I’d had a good day.
In the morning I’d had a small altercation with a traffic warden (for those that don’t know what a traffic warden is, it’s a creature that, whilst being human, is, in fact, devoid of all human traits such as kindness and compassion and has the task of making sure that no parking violations are taking place within a certain area). In the past, I’ve had more than a few run-ins with traffic wardens.
On this occasion, the traffic warden (male) had repeatedly insisted that I had been illegally parked. I had repeatedly insisted that he’d had nothing but horseshit between his ears since birth. It was obvious he was new to the area.
In the end, as pub opening time rapidly approached, I merely told him to go fuck himself.
He didn’t like that one little bit. “Take that back right now, or I’ll call for police assistance!”
This threat didn’t worry me in the slightest. Over the years I’ve met many police officers and I’m on first name terms with most of them. Indeed, having spent so many hours in their company, I often think the police have provided me with more hot meals than my wife has.
“Okay,” I said, “I’ll take it back. Go and unfuck yourself.”
I drove off and had an enjoyable lunchtime drink.
Later, in the evening, I was sitting at the table reading the newspaper. The wife sat watching me.
The wife began to drum her fingers on the table. I ignored her.
“When are you leaving?” she asked.
“What do you mean ’leaving’? I’m not leaving. I own this house. You can piss off if you want”
“I meant, leaving for the pub.”
“I’m not going down the pub.”
“You’re not going down the pub?”
“That’s right. I’m not going down the pub.” I answered.
“Jane’s coming round tonight.” She said.
“And her friend’s turning up later.”
“That means there’ll be three women in the house.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I continued to look at the paper.
“You never go out when Jane’s coming round, do you?”
I knew Jane before I met the missus. We were together for just three weeks. But, in those three weeks, Jane copped more of my spud juice than any other woman has since. Thinking about it, I probably used up ninety percent of my lifetime’s quota with Jane.
She was, though, always ambitious and eventually married a very wealthy guy who manufactured ‘multi-occasional, non-permanent, vaginal inserts’, as my wife refers to them.
It’s probably a good thing that Jane married ‘Dildo Dougie’, because I would never have kept up with her ambitions.
Jane and I are in agreement that my wife should never find out about this brief and exhausting episode. It’s an agreement based on fear.
“Bloody hell!“ I said, trying to change the subject. “Have you read this? It says a forty five year old woman has been taken to court for claiming child benefits for 87 children. By my reckoning she’s been pregnant for a total of sixty six years. Amazing.”
“People like that should be banged up and the key thrown away!” offered the wife.
“For the sake of the nation’s wealth it would appear that being banged-up again is the last thing she needs,” I said, beginning to laugh.
The missus didn’t laugh. She never does.
Jane wasn’t due for another twenty minutes so the wife went outside to practise for next month’s axe throwing competition.
Shortly, she returned and, again, joined me at the table, grunting with satisfaction as she pumped her muscles.
Jane’s car pulled up. We heard the slam of a car door, hurried footsteps up the path and then the kitchen door opened.
“Blinky!” I shouted.
Blinky and I hugged each other, as the wife glared.
Moments later, Jane walked in.
“Hello, Jane,” said the wife, “I see you’ve brought your brother with you.”
Blinky’s a great friend of mine. At fifty six, he’s ten years younger than I am, and is the only man I know who’s never been married. Actually, he is still a virgin.
It’s exactly half a century ago that I nicknamed him Blinky; when he gets even mildly excited or his emotions are heightened, his right eye starts blinking rapidly and his head jerks violently to the left and back for several seconds.
His other main ailment is that he also suffers from involuntary ejaculations when his emotions are raised.
He has no chance of ever pulling fanny. Whenever the poor guy spots a woman he fancies, his eye starts going scary, his head starts to move about as though someone's using a corkscrew on it and he has to rush to the loo, running in a way that suggests he could never catch a pig in a corridor, to clean himself up
So, alas, Blinky will never know the softness of a woman’s flesh between the sheets. But his porn collection is a sight to behold.
“Jane, where’s your friend?” asked the missus.
“Should be here any minute.”
There was a brief, awkward silence at the table as I poured the drinks, and then we heard the sound of another car.
Moments later, I watched in horror as Jane’s friend walked past the kitchen window to the door. Before I could stop her, the wife called out, “come straight in!”
I turned to my mate, “Blinky, you have to get out of here, now!”
It was too late.
Several things happened: Jane’s friend stepped through the door; Blinky immediately started to spray the contents of his mouth over my missus as his head went this way and that way, at an ever-increasing speed; and Jane, seemingly enjoying the moment, took advantage of my wife’s distraction and winked at me as she ran her tongue across her teeth.
Blinky must have taken a good mouthful of beer. With his head going from side to side it was like having a garden sprinkler in the kitchen.
Jane’s “drop-dead-gorgeous” friend started to scream as she took in the scene of Jane and three complete strangers in a situation that would make anyone question their sanity.
I knew this would all be my fault. I knew the wife would kill me for this.
My life was going to end very soon, but I experienced one last moment of joy as Jane’s left breast fell from her bra and swung freely over the table, as she gamely tried to control her brother’s movements.
I jumped up from the table, ran behind Blinky, held him under his arms and pulled him to his feet. The wife, still sitting, was shaking with anger. I had to get Blinky out the kitchen.
Then, the missus started to scream like I’d never heard her scream before. She was hysterical. I looked her straight in the face ready to shout and bring the woman back to her senses.
Blinky had left his flies undone.