Can't Take The Pace!

As I stared blankly across the table at Patrick, cursing the headache I’d had since the summer holidays began, it took me a few seconds to register that Chickie’s little friend didn’t look quite right. He was rocking gently as Chickie prattled on at him about cheese and light sabers.

“SSshhhh” I said, trying to focus on Patrick, who hadn’t blinked in over a minute. Chickie moved onto flip flops and nobblybobblies.

“Patrick” I said softly, waving a hand in front of his colourless face. He continued to stare ahead, through glasses that now rested at a 45 degree angle to his sunken eyes.

“Patrick!” I said, more insistent as I heard his mother walking back towards us.

Chickie joined in the fun. “PATRICK, PATRICK,!!” he yelled, leaping up and down like a ‘Pop-Up-Pirate’.

The gentle force of Chickie’s interest brought Patrick round momentarily before he fell asleep, once again, with his eyes open.

“I’m so sorry” I said to Patrick’s mother as he collapsed into his plate of cheese and pickle sandwiches. “I gave him loads to drink to compensate for all the sweating...” I trailed off as she lifted his head from the worktop and began picking crumbs out of his matted hair.

She tells me it took Patrick over a week to recover from his playdate with Chickie.

Then came Megan. A sweet little girl, with blonde waves in her hair and innocence in her eyes. At Amazon Adventures, she waited patiently as Chickie changed into his thermoregulation sportswear before skipping off holding his hand.

The next time I saw her hand, it was been dragged in the opposite direction to which it wanted to go, up three levels, through a giant mangler, up the rope nets, to infinity and beyond.

Whilst she was being pushed to her physical limits, her mother and I sipped tea and chatted about her night waking.

Megan would reappear briefly every now and again, each time, her hair slightly curlier than before. She’d gulp down some fluids before Chickie would reappear, much like Jaws, to take her again.

At one point, she broke free, hiding behind her hands, cuddling up to her mummy.

Chickie found her and nodded enthusiastically when asked if the girl cowering behind her fingers was his girlfriend. Megan peered through a gap at her mummy, desperate for it not to be true.

“Let’s go again!” he yanked at her, unbothered that Megan’s core body temperature had exceeded recommended levels.

When we left, Chickie skipping, Megan hobbling, I waved another friend goodbye. Forever.

Or so I thought.

Then a text arrived.

“Megan didn’t move all night! She stayed in her bed! Say thanks to Chick!”

So, if your poppet’s not sleeping, just call ‘Chickie Extreme Sleep Solutions’ – so effective, they’ll be unconscious even when they’re still conscious!