Here it is, the last one of the year. I’ve put this piece and the others that I’ve posted this year, together in a little ebook on Amazon. It’s called 500 Wrds. Be warned this has a bit of black humour init, you may find it a little distasteful especially if you’re an animal lover. You have been warned…
The Christmas Jingle
‘I’m sorry, but it’s not the kind of thing we want to be associated with.’
Pete winced as he heard the refusal. Her principles would get this place closed if she wasn’t careful.
He heard the office door slam, and a large man came out, muttering to himself. Sighing, he stopped at the water cooler.
Pete went over. ‘Everything ok?’
‘No, I came here looking for a jingle for the Christmas must have toy, and she says no, because it’s bad taste apparently. It’s making shed loads of money though.’
‘Oh, right. Look I’m only freelance here, so if you want to meet me in the Coffee Hut next door in a few minutes, maybe it’s something I can help you with?’
Pete could feel the excitement rising in him. He wasn’t freelance, but he’d had his fill of writing jingles for washing powder, shampoo or coffee. He wanted something exciting, something big. Maybe this was it!
‘Well.’ The man said. ‘I need a jingle for Splattered Animals. They’re soft toys…’
‘Splattered Animals, I know what they are! They’re huge, all over the internet, the news, but your TV ad isn’t great.’
‘I know, that’s why I need a great jingle.’
That night, Pete was sat in his room, ready to create a jingle, only his mind was blank. He knew all about them; there were splattered hedgehogs, badgers, foxes, cats, supposedly killed by Santa landing his sleigh on them. Then there were birds, bats and owls that had been splattered by Santa’s sleigh as he was flying through the sky. No wonder they were controversial!
Then it came to him.
Jingle bells.
Jingle bells.
Santa’s on the way.
Can you see the animals,
that he’s splattered with his sleigh?
Hey!
Jingle bells.
Jingle bells.
Santa’s on the way.
Killing birds and bats and owls,
with that great big sleigh
On Monday morning he was sat in Prescot’s Toys, playing the jingle. When it finished, Pete waited for the reaction. Mr Prescot stood up, opened his office door, and shouted into the factory.
‘Tom!’
A guy of a similar age to Pete appeared.
‘Tom, listen to this.’
‘Play it again.’
Pete did, and this time he got the reaction he had been hoping for.
‘Oh, that’s bloody brilliant, we’ll take it!’
‘And don’t forget our agreement dad,’ Tom added in between laughs.
‘These toys were Tom’s idea Pete, and apparently there are plenty more where they came from. I agreed to set up our own in-house advertising if we found someone we liked. Looks like you’ve got yourself a new job if you want it young man?’
Pete beamed.
By lunchtime he was back at work, and she already knew.
‘Look Peter, you can’t just jump ship on a whim, what if it doesn’t lead anywhere?’
‘The only place that’s going nowhere is this place.’
‘I can’t believe you’re being so ungrateful. I gave you a chance.’
‘I’m sorry, but it’s time to fly the nest. And mum, Merry Christmas.’
Janet Stock 