Fur Coat No Knickers Read Online Free PDF

wings. I begged him to start flapping his little bird arms, but his feathers just dropped off all over mammy’s bed. He was ice cold, so I wrapped him in cling-film, not over his face now, Father - I’m not that stupid! Anyway, I popped him in the microwave because he was so cold, Father, so I did. I thought I had put him on defrost… but instead… I think I nuked him. I mean, there were a few of us alright that had polluted the air with, err… let’s say, “plant fumes”, Father, but sure, I’m confessing and you don’t need to know every detail of the murder, do you?’
    That was it for Katie. Off to rehab she went. I don’t think Father Murphy was ever the same after that.
     
    I felt a gentle tapping on my arm. The huge man sitting next to me informed me that we’d touched down. I must have dozed off.
    Feeling drowsy, I collected my luggage and was relieved to find that Laura was already at the airport entrance waiting to give me a lift to mum’s. Here we go, I thought.
     
    On Christmas morning in Rathmines, Dublin, I woke up to my phone beeping from my handbag.
     
    [Text from (Unrecognised)]
     
    Ur not gunna feckin believe this. Danny #2 found out about Danny #1 and tried 2 go thru me phone… so I swallowed my sim card! My throat is feckin’ killin me! Luv ya babe, Siobhan Xxxx (ps. this my new number). PPS… MERRY PISSEDMAS!!! xxxx
     
    [Text to Siobhan]
     
    Omg! I’ve only been gone 1 day and you are in trouble already! I’ll call you later. But if you were able to swallow it, you should be able to pass it. Just keep your eyes peeled for a shiny shite coming down your chimney! Merry Xmas Xx
     
    I shook my head. Siobhan was crazy. Only she would do something like that.
    I stretched out in my cosy bed, basking in the feeling of having nothing to do; no bickering to breakup (well, apart from my sisters), just a few days of eating and drinking in front of me.
    Mum’s house was so warm and inviting. I loved being there. You could lose yourself in the big, soft, brown velour sofas whilst your feet sank deep into the shagpile carpet. The house was a medley of beiges, browns and oranges. Nothing matched, but it all worked somehow. There were little multi-coloured trinkets dotted around the place, but the one that tickled me the most was in the bathroom, in the form of a legless plastic doll, who’s meringue-esque, pale blue frilly skirt concealed the toilet roll beneath it.
    At this time of year, mum has her usual plethora of brightly coloured, gaudy Christmas decorations up. And of course, there was always a real Christmas tree; overloaded to the point of collapsing, with ill-matched, yet strangely aesthetically pleasing bits and bobs. Mum had hung Katie’s embroidered stocking on the mantel above the roaring log fire and surrounded it with tinsel. I’d always have to duck here and there whilst walking around the house, in fear of being strangled by mum’s hanging pullout paper chains. And, of course, there was the wave of two thousand or so cards, supported by cotton string and thumbtacks.
    Santa’s grotto had nothing on our over-illuminated beacon of Christmas trash.
    By the time I wandered downstairs at the blissful hour of 11am most of the hard work had already been done. The table was beautifully set for Christmas dinner, with wine glasses all placed accordingly. There was a brand new carafe filled with red wine on the table; Laura saw me and instantly poured us both a glass.
    ‘Slante ,’ we both chorused and took a gulp.
    ‘ Eww… what the hell is that ? Is that… RIBENA?! ’ Laura and I spluttered at the same time.
    Mum waltzed in on cue, ‘the doctor said your sister isn’t allowed to be near anything ‘mind altering’ while she’s on release from rehab. She could end up with one of those corse-diction things.’
    ‘I think you mean cross-addiction, mum,’ Laura corrected spitting out the remains of the offending Ribena back into her wine glass.
    ‘She’s such a pet, sure