A
Chrisbut Story With A Difference
From
Knees Monthly #11, December 1966
Editor:
Mary Wingert
Printed
in High Wycombe
This
story was inspired by Kenny Everett, who said he wanted a plastic kneecap
dispenser for his 21st birthday last year
It
was two weeks before Chrisbut when Mummy asked little Kenknee what he
wanted for his Chrisbut present. Kenknee knew what he wanted; he'd had
his heart set on it for a long time.
"Oh Mummy!" he gasped, his eyes round and shining, "I want a plastic
kneecap dispenser."
"But darling, where can we get one? And anyway, you'd only get tired
of it and leave kneecaps all over the living-room floor. Besides, we
can't really afford one."
I wonder why she bothered to ask me, thought little Kenknee.
"Yes, Mummy, I-I'll have something (choke) else instead (gulp),"
he said, but a big tear rolled down his cheek.
So Kenknee went to the big store to see Father Chrisbut.
"Come and sit on my KNEE, dear little boy, " said F.C., grimacing through
his beard. "And what would you like for Chrisbut?"
"Please, Santa, a plastic kneecap dispenser!" replied Kenny.
"(Oh boy!) Well, I'm afraid there are none left at all. Wouldn't
you rather have a nice Batman outfit, like all the other kiddies?" Kenknee
ran home, screaming.
Feeling very upset, Kenknee decided to write Santa a letter and post
it up the chimknee. On Chrisbut Eve, Kenknee hung up his stocking (he
was funny that way) at the knee of his bed, hoping and praying that
Santa would bring his longed-for Chrisbut present.
During the night, there was a great big PLOP and Santa's sleigh fell
through the roof, Batman outfits, reindeer and all.
"That flippin' great thing there!" (or words to that effect), muttered
Santa. "Some kids just have to be awkward. Every other kid in the neighbourhood
wanted a Batman outfit, and what does he ask for? A plastic kneecap
dispenser. Well, I hope it makes him happy now that he's got it. Now
let's get out of here before his parents start asking awkward questions
about the roof."
Little Kenknee's eyes shone with joy when he found his Chrisbut presents
in the morning. His parents' eyes blazed with rage when they saw the
roof.
"Well, you got it, Kenknee, so we want to know what you're going to
do with it."
"Oh Mother, it's so obvious! I'm going to mass-produce brightly-coloured
plastic kneecaps and sell them to shops in Carnaby Street. I'll make
a million!"
"Oh. Um... well, I don't think it's quite suitable as a present
for little Kenknee, do you Sydknee? I think we'd better confiscate it."
"Oh yes. Definitely. Sorry, son."
And suddenly, Santa's big voice boomed down the chimknee.
"This is a magic kneecap dispenser and it won't work for anyone but
Kenknee. Tough, Mum and Dad!"
©
Mary Wingert Payne 1966, 2001
