Rhys Rodgers.

This month is Nanowrimo - in which i attempt to write This is not a Book by the end of November. One of the features in This is not a Book is the life story of Chardonnay; a resilient girl with an upside down nose. So I’m instigating “Chardonnay Sunday” in which i serialize the life and times of this amazing little creature. Enjoy my prettys!

1st bit:

This is the story of a little orphan called Chardonnay and how she lived and (more interestingly) died. It was the year of 1970 when Chardonnay was born. Unfortunately their had been an over stock of babies in the North Pole. What most people don’t know is that when Santa’s little helpers are not busy making toys (which only occupies their schedules from October to December) they are busy making babies. Although partly so that the human race wont become extinct, their main motivation behind this unusual past time is because they love making toys so much and they need children to break and eventually burn them so they can have the excuse to make new ones.

Anyway, in the summer of 1970 (summer being a superfluous term because in the north pole all seasons do a very good job of discussing themselves as winter) Cherry bottom was putting the noses on the babies. He hated the work because of all the screaming they made but mostly just because he was allergic to nose hairs. He didn’t realize that even if he wasn’t handling baby noses from nine to five with 10 minute tea breaks every hour he would still have allergic reactions to his own nose hairs (which flowed out of his nose and got in the way when he ate his snow sandwiches which were generally soggy, but cheap, so he forced them down every tea break with thoughts of the extra 45c he was saving and how this would contribute to his holiday to Hawaii, which he would have saved up for by the time he was 298. In fact, it was Hawaii he was thinking of when he stuck Chardonnays nose on. And that is why when she was born. Her nose was upside down. This did not help her to make friends but did give her the ability to smell Saturn and Jupiter (if you point your own nose upside down you will find you can do this too).

Of course, Chardonnay was never officially born. As I was saying previously, in the year of 1970 there was an over production of babies due to an unforeseen change in circumstances. It appears that a popular French chef publicly denounced the use of pumpkins in any way shape of form and the world went mad uprooting their pumpkin patches and replacing them with fish ponds which would attract snails that they could boil and serve as escargot. Because of the lack of pumpkin patches there was less birth opportunities, (as elves cannot enter houses without pumpkin patches or they will be instantly incinerated by unknown forces).

So what was done with the hundreds of babies that didn’t have a pumpkin patch to call home? Well, they were all deconstructed and placed back into giant jars labeled “ears”, “elbows”, “tongues”. But not little Chardonnay who, as you may have guessed by now, was shot to the moon on the back of a wild bottle of chardonnay. Of course, back in the day every one thought that the moon was round; so little chardonnay slipped right off and fell down to earth again. Fortunately when babies are first born they are rubbery like little bouncy balls and that is why if you drop a baby on its head when it is young, it will bounce right back into your arms a few hundred brain cells dumber. Go on, try it some time. Millions of parents have done it but nobody knows because they are all too ashamed to admit it. Of course little Chardonnay did not land on her head, but on her bottom which to this day remains shinny and smooth thanks to the product “bum slip” which she will come to mass produce when she is older. But right now, she is simply a miserable little baby with an upside down nose, an affinity for the moon and a subconscious urge to destroy France and turn it into a sanctuary for all snails and their relatives.

…Until next time…