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    The Plastic Christmas Card
    The Plastic Christmas Card
    The Plastic Christmas Card
    Ebook15 pages12 minutes

    The Plastic Christmas Card

    By Frankie Lassut

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    About this ebook

    The Plastic Christmas Card is a quirky little ‘wodzeon’ Quick Flash story about creating Christmas happiness.
    But, what is happiness? This following ‘history’ took hours and hours of research in huge libraries and on the net. Wodzeon? That’s what sometimes happens when someone reads my stuff, they say ‘what’s he on?’... fresh air actually.

    Happiness’s root is an old Latin word ‘Hopiness’ meaning ‘to feel good’.
    It hailed from the hop plantations of Evesham i.e. hops (as in malt and) meaning ‘happy crop’, planted and tended originally by Latins. That’s because Latin people (originally French tin miners i.e. ‘La-Tin’) felt happy when they drank the liquid made with hops (and malt). That’s why at Christmas, the hopiest time of year is when people are at their happiest (or hopiest). All the dancing at Christmas is due to these sacred flowers that grow on countless bushes in Evesham, the organic mothers and fathers of Eveshams favourite dance, invented by actor and dancer and buddy of William Shakespeare, William Kemp (Kempe) The Evesham Hop, full of quirky skips and jumps. Evesham was named after the church managed to convince the world that the serpent tempted Eve to eat an apple, when really it helped her discover the magic of the hop; yes you’ve guessed it was actually a hop plant/bush the serpent was on/in and not the church’s apple tree which was a thought constructed Eve ‘Sham’.

    The serpent was a bit fed up (although it is impossible to tell when a serpent is fed up due to limitation of facial expressions) because it was a very mild Christmas (hence the nudity) and it fancied a few drinks while chilling on the branch, but needed someone to make it first from hops (and malt); the serpent was very wise and knew how to have a good time by making hop juice so it spoke instructions to Eve; God had taken the serpents arms away to save its liver, not to mention the livers of several local hedgehogs that also liked a drink, especially after eating a sticky slug. Adam was therefore the first man to get drunk and hop around dancing.
    How would Adam have got home from the garden? Easy! Eve would have driven him, and that is why when a woman drives a bloke home from the pub it is seen as natural, simply because it is.
    Christmas is so good because of that serpent. Kane and Abel were both the results of hopiness and man’s downfall was the hangover, making it hard to make a choice between bad and good ideas.
    Whisky is also good and the history of it could be called ‘The magic of Bar LEY’ a wine bar near a barley field where whisky was discovered. If the sign-writer had been rubbish and written Bar LEE, anybody called Lee would have felt honoured and gone for a discount, but whisky would have remained obscure.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherFrankie Lassut
    Release dateJul 18, 2015
    ISBN9781311125491
    The Plastic Christmas Card
    Author

    Frankie Lassut

    I am the one being shaved; the other one Nim, is is a looney bin now!I went to see a psychic years ago who ended up as my girlfriend; she didn’t see that one coming! But she was extremely honoured. However it ended badly i.e. it rained heavily as I buried her body and I got soaked. No! You don’t really want to hear about it, it’s depressing; I was joking about the burial. She told me that I was to uncover a talent I had ... Well, another psychic told me that as the first one was dead; I was lying when I said I was lying. Nothing happened for quite a while. Suddenly I realised I needed a ‘job’ quite badly as I was beginning to drink halves. No, not a boob ‘job’! I went for the cheap option i.e. the surgeon gave some socks to shove up my jumper when I go out. I got a ‘job’ (have you got boobs on your mind?) because someone told me that bus-driving was easy because you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel. She was about six, a wise woman ... that’s called an oxymoron. Fantastic! I thought get the job and in a couple of days I’d be driving all the nice passengers around and about seeing all the sights for a fraction of the cost of a tour bus; and we’d have a roof in case it rained. Easy! First of all though there was the training; and I entered hell.I was born in Cumbria in a little ex-iron ore mining town called Millom. It was only small, a one- horse town; the horse was called Peg. It had a pedigree name too, but I can’t remember it at the moment: Peggy Suss? However, I got fed up and left as I was the only man in a town full of women and they were all lesbys; I’ve always been lucky. I went to Blackpool and attended the photographic college. I then moved to Coventry and met the psychic who would tell me what was going to happen. I could say now that the rest is history. Well it is, but obviously not history as that’s all made up anyway. Then I got the job bus-driving, which as I said is easy ‘you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel’. The bus station management weren’t pleased that she had said that though, so she was tried and sent to Guantanamo Bay; they have a section for young kids who are bad to the bone.The job was so mad that I thought it would be a good idea to write out some posters and stick them all on the wall of the bus station. The other drivers enjoyed them, but the management tore them down, the badstars (that’s an anagram of astards +B). I carried on and ended up with a manuscript for a book, which, by the way is ‘brilliant’. The management didn’t like it, but bollocks to them.I couldn’t stop writing after that episode and I’ve been writing ever since, mostly cheques to people, such as the mortgage people and the gas board etc. I am so brilliant that I’ve lost all my friends because I wrote about them in my style which I believe is called Bizzaro. My inner being is a bit of a crazy horse, because whatever I write it has to be in that style, even the horror. It just goes that way. ‘Ordinary’ writing to me is like lemonade minus the bubbles ... I can’t bring myself to do it; but thank God I can still bring myself off. I need a selfie stick as I do that because the close focus on the phone won’t do it; how else am I going to post them on the Dark Web?Writing is like a drug. When I was writing my Millom book, the pictures that flashed into my head were so funny to me that I laughed myself into hernia-ville; my stomach tore. I got injured writing.You see, hernia-ville, a retirement home for people with stomach hernias; no comedians are booked to appear at that place.So, my writing is brilliant, so read the bloody stuff!I have actually suffered for my art. I won’t go to hospital to get it fixed because, well, I’ve written about that friggin place too.All that and now I’m an international bestselling author. I’m the only author in this world who has sold books on Mars (eat your heart out Tony Robbins), so I can say with certainty that Martians have fabulous senses of humour.What a profile!

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      Book preview

      The Plastic Christmas Card - Frankie Lassut

      The Plastic Christmas Card

      Copyright 2015 Frankie Lassut

      Published by Wonky Books at Smashwords

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      ***

      Before Plastic, I feel like I should give a little introduction as I have been doing right from QF1. In these little intros I have been boasting about the amount of money made by indie writers (I’m the only Pentertainer). Someone told me that it might make readers fed up. I then was inspired the other night (early evening actually) to inform people that the

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