Cullybacky only does three wishes a day

Cullybacky only does three wishes a day
(Cullybacky is a village in Ireland)

Imelda was doing a bit of light dusting with one of those furry things on a long blue plastic handle. She wore a pink shell suit with tomato ketchup stains down the front. Her feet shuffled around in pink fluffy slippers covered in grease spots. A fag hung from her pale lips.

Garibaldi her three year old son was dressed in a Spiderman suit that was too small.. He was banging a drum his thoughtless Granny had given him for Christmas. His mother christened him Garibaldi because she had a craving for Garibaldi biscuits during pregnancy. She had considered calling him after the location he was conceived in, just like the Beckhams. Thankfully this was quickly rejected; she remembered the back seat of a Ford Fiesta in Cullybacky.

Just think how embarrassed you’d be calling Cullybacky in for his tae.

“Hey, Cullybacky, get your arse inside, your tae’s on the table.”

Garibaldi continued banging his drum.

“For God’s sake quit banging that f-fing thing”

He just ignored her. He seldom did what he was told.

“I wish to God Spiderman would turn into a real spider.”

To her amazement he did and scuttled out the French Windows into the garden before she could plonk her pink fluffy slipper on him.
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Jack Daw, Jack Jack to his friends, was perched on the branch of an Apple tree in the garden. He was wondering what he’d fancy for his lunch.

“Maybe a worm or two. Come to think of it I haven’t had a nice big juicy spider for ages.” He mused. “Yes”, he thought,”I wish I could find a nice juicy spider.”

There, coming out the door, was his wish. He swopped and gobbled up Garibaldi the spider.
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Freddy the urban fox was not in a good mood. The cubs had given him an ear bashing about not bringing home enough food. He set off searching around Cullybacky. The new black bins were not as easy to knock the lid off as the old metal ones.

“If only I could catch a big fat Black Bird that would shut the weans up.” He thought. .“Yes, I wish I could catch a Black Bird.”

At that moment he turned the gable end of a semi and there before his beady eyes was, you’ve guessed it, a big fat Black Bird. He grabbed it and raced back to the den.
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Imelda saw it all before her very eyes through the door. She dropped the duster, stood riveted to the spot and peed in the pants of her pink shell suit.

“I wish, to hell, someone would tell me how to explain thon to Garibaldi’s Dad.”

Nobody did, Cullybacky only does three wishes a day.