Saturday, 25 June 2011

Another Family Reunion

Warning: Some may find content offensive.

“There is no way you’re my son!” I shouted at the naked assailant standing in the doorway.

He saw the look in my eyes and grabbed his gonads protectively, “I am your eldest son.”

“Shut up. You’re beginning to annoy me again. None of my sons—I have three of them—look like you!” 

“Then what’s this?” He said pointing at a scar.

“Don’t know; a wound from an irate elderly person who you’d just fleeced for their life savings, perhaps?”

I picked up the bottle of whisky, ready to smash it and ram it into his groin.

“Dad, you really are the most stupid person I’ve ever met.”

I paused; that had sounded more like a son of mine. I looked at him; there was a vague similarity with my eldest boy.

I studied the man for a few moments and said, “my name’s eez. Stop calling me dad.”

The naked man looked me in the eye and said, “no it’s not. Your name’s dad as far as I’m concerned and if you ever crush my balls again I’ll pay you back for all the shit I’ve taken from you. Also, you’re a drunken bastard that has never helped himself, always helps out others, albeit with a bit of commission on top, and you live with a woman, my mother, who has put up with you for far longer than necessary and if you don’t shake my hand I’ll pour your breakfast down the sink.”

“You don’t look like my son,” I replied. “My son is fat, has no scruples whatsoever and makes me look like a saint!”

“Dad, nobody could make you look like a saint. You’re an arsehole.”

I had to confess, he had a point. “If you pour my breakfast down the sink, I’m going to stamp on your scrote again.”

“No you’re not. I’m bigger than you, fitter than you and I don’t have an ounce of fat on me; take a swing at me you old bastard and I’ll fucking annihilate you!”

I shook the hand of my eldest son.

The three of us finished breakfast about three hours later and stumbled to the pub.

Katie, having had too much breakfast, fell through the doors.

Her mother, Gertie, came from behind the bar and punched me.

My son shouted, “Keep your hands off my dad! And if any other fucker in this hole of a pub has a go at him I’ll rip their bloody throats out!”

I turned to the boy and said, “Er, son, you’ve just shouted at Gertie.”

He looked at me in horror. “Gertie? Gobbling Gertie? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Before I could answer, Gertie and her daughter, Katie, who my son had been banging for the last four days, jumped on my eldest boy and began to assault him in horrific fashion.

Behind the bar, I poured myself a large whisky and watched as a barstool, swung by Gertie, slammed into his abdomen. “Ladies, that’s my son you’re killing; I’d prefer it if hostilities ceased.”

“Your son? If that’s true, eez, it’s all the more reason to give him a damned good beating!”

I pondered for a moment.

I walked from behind the bar and stood between my son on the floor and the two women.

“Enough. It’s not his fault I’m his dad.”

Wednesday, 15 June 2011

Naked Women, Naked Men...And a Lack of Brandy

Warning: some may find content offensive.

I threw a large shot of brandy into my coffee, grabbed the newspaper, threw my waffles and maple syrup into the bin and settled down for breakfast at the kitchen table.

The feel of the worn pine table flooded my mind with fond memories: I’d had so many spectacular and bloody arguments with the wife at the table.

“Morning, eez.”

“Good morning, Katie.”

I thought about myself and decided that an entire adult lifetime of self-abuse doesn’t necessarily mean a miserable old age.

“Katie!” I called out.


“Have you got a minute? There’s something I’d like to ask you.”

Katie, bare-footed, padded into the kitchen. “What is it eez? I’m busy.”

“Busy? Are you too busy to put on some clothes or at least a dressing gown? I have to say that I’m a bit uncomfortable with you walking about the place with no clothes on.”

“Shut up, eez; forty years ago you’d have humped my arse off.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, young lady!”

“Piss off.”

“It’s more like ten years ago. Now, go and put some clothes on before I get angry.”

Katie looked at me. “You actually do care, don’t you?”

“Of course I care! I might be a complete arsehole, but it doesn’t mean I have no principals!”

Katie leant over the kitchen table, breasts swinging freely, and kissed me on the forehead. “eez, you’re a good man.”

“If I’m that much of a good man, I don’t deserve to have a breast spilling my morning coffee, so piss off and put some bloody clothes on!”

“I’ll pour you another coffee! Be quiet.”

I stood up and shouted: “I don’t care about the coffee; that was the last of the brandy!”

“You have brandy in your coffee? In the morning?” She asked.

“I don’t like sugar. Fuck off and get dressed.”

As she left the kitchen and turned left towards the bathroom, a hand from the right of the hallway gave Katie’s backside a gentle smack.

I must confess to a certain amount of guilt. But, I like to think that any fine and honourable man would have done the same and protected a woman in obvious trouble.

After smashing my empty coffee cup into the man’s face and then jumping on his groin, I’d returned to the kitchen, discovered a half bottle of whisky and resumed enjoying my breakfast.

After a minute or so, the guy’s groaning and moaning began to annoy me, so I returned to the hallway and shouted at him. “You will cease moaning this very instant! You, sir, are pissing me off! I’m trying to have breakfast for God’s sake!”

I realised the still-naked Katie was standing in the hallway.

“What are you looking at? You’ve got that look in your eyes that Gertie sometimes has. I’ve done nothing wrong here. I’ve just stopped you from being assaulted.”

“eez, this man has no clothes on.”

“Obviously.” I said smugly, “That’s why he didn’t put up too much of a struggle; when the love spuds are in full view and unprotected, then any man is vulnerable.”

Katie joined me at the kitchen table, took a swig from the whisky bottle and said, “Do you know why the guy on the hallway floor has no clothes on?”

“Because he’s a cranky bastard, I assume. I’ve never seen him before in my life and I know that he wasn’t here by invitation. Therefore, he deserved what he got…and when he stands up again, he’s going to get a repeat treatment”

I looked at her. “And by the way, put on some clothes; if the wife’s sister comes round, I’m a dead man drinking.”

We both turned to the man standing in the doorway:

“Hi dad. You haven’t changed much.”

Sunday, 12 June 2011

Snouty and Friends

Warning: some may find content offensive.

Snouty was told to sit. And, obediently, he sat.

Gertie and her daughter smiled at each other.

I looked first at mother, Gertie, and then at daughter, Gertie.

It had to be said: “What the hell is that?”

Gertie senior looked at me and asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on, you know what I’m talking about. That dog is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen! Look at his fucking nose! It looks like a huge chocolate muffin! And its bollocks are almost dragging on the floor! The animal’s a freak!”

Gertie’s daughter smashed a pint glass over the back of my head. “Don’t call my little puppy a freak! He’s cute and he’s better looking than you!”

“I’m bleeding!”

“That, Mister eez, is because you have a piece of glass in your head. If you insult Snouty again, you’ll have a piece of glass in your scrotum.”

I turned to her mother. “Gertie, which finishing school did you choose for this one, fucking Auschwitz?”

Gertie let Snouty off his lead.

Snouty charged at me and rammed his head into my groin; any other chocolate muffin stuck to my bollocks would not have been a problem for me—in fact, Gobbling Gertie has been known to entertain with various foodstuffs throughout her career. However, a chocolate muffin underscored by teeth presented me with a dilemma.

“Gertie, darling, is there any chance you can call off the puppy?”

“Snouty’s not my dog; he’s hers!” She gleefully announced, pointing at her daughter.

With Snouty still clenched, and copying my movements, I slowly turned to her daughter. “Gertie, darling, is there any chance you can call off the puppy?”

She smiled and said, “Snouty, down.”

Snouty dropped obediently to the floor. I followed him to the floor, my whisky glass smashing as I landed. “The bloody animal’s got one of my spuds in his mouth! Call him off!”

As rare as it is for a female, let alone two, to show compassion, the two Gerties shouted in unison: “Snouty, let him go!”

Unfortunately, Snouty was having none of it. It appeared that Snouty was more than happy to have Mister Lefty clamped in his teeth.

The pain was appalling. My eyes misted, but a survival instinct kicked in and I reached for my broken whisky glass and grabbed Snouty’s bollocks with the other hand.

I held the jagged edge of the glass to his ball bag and quietly said, “If I’m going to lose one of mine, this bastard’s going to lose both of his…frankly, I’d have a lot more understanding of the present situation if the bloody animal had a gash between its legs!”

Mother and daughter looked at each other nervously.

“Ten seconds!” I shouted. “You have ten seconds to get this poxy animal off my conker or I’m cutting the puppy!”

“Give me an ashtray.” Gertie ordered her daughter.

“Gertie,” I enquired, “what are you going to do with that?”

“I’m going to thump Snouty on the head. That should make him loosen his grip.”

“No! If you whack him on the head, then his jaws will clamp down! Can’t you just stab him or something?”

Gertie hit me on the head with the ashtray. “Don’t be so cruel! That’s a horrible thing to say! I could get you arrested for that!”

“For God’s sake woman, he’s got one of my knackers in his fucking mouth. Do you really think I’m worried about being arrested at the moment? Get a knife and stab him. Nothing else is going to work!”

Suddenly, Snouty let go of my left testicle and started to hurtle round the pub.

“Thanks Gertie,” I said.

“I didn’t do anything, eez. He just sort of unclamped and began running round the pub.”

I got to my feet, gently swung towards the bar and asked for a drink. “Dear Gertie’s daughter, I would like an extremely alcoholic drink in an extremely large glass. If you fail to provide me with this drink, I will kill your puppy and your mother and then set fire to you.” I looked at her. “Do you consider this request for a drink to be a reasonable one?”

“Coming right up, eez.”

With an intact scrotum, I settled on a barstool and watched Snouty charge round the pub, with Gertie in pursuit, as he continuously sniffed the air, ate furniture and ripped a radiator from the wall.

“Tell me,” I said to the daughter of my good friend Gertie, “where did you get the bloody animal?”

“Mum got it from a home for retired police dogs.”

“So, it’s most definitely not a puppy, then?”

“Well, no. But he’s kind of cute, don’t you think?”

I didn’t answer her.

I watched the unfolding scene of destruction as Snouty continued to pull apart the pub.

I turned back to her. “Look, I know your name’s Gertie, but I can’t carry on calling you Gertie. You’re Gertie, your mum’s Gertie; it’s all very confusing.”

“So what do you suggest?” She asked.

(It was tempting.)

I thought for a moment and then asked, “What would you like me to call you?”

“Well, I’ve always liked the name Katie. But it would be daft if you called me that; my name’s not Katie.”

“Katie? Yeah, that sounds like a good name. I think that from now on I’ll call you Katie…And I’ll let you into a secret: my name’s not eez.”

Katie laughed and topped up my glass.

I took a gulp of my drink, winced as the alcoholic concoction burnt its way to my stomach and said, “Katie, I don’t suppose you know just what exactly Snouty did while working for our fine law enforcement officers?”

“Haven’t got a clue.”

“Well, considering he’s just discovered what looks like three kilos of cocaine hidden in the fixtures and fittings of this shit hole of a boozer, would you be at all surprised if I suggested he is a sniffer dog trained to look for illegal substances and narcotics?”

Katie looked at Snouty as he ripped some panelling from a wall, behind which was a hole containing rather suspicious looking packages.

“eez, I think I’d better put my handbag outside. And by the way,” she called as she left for the car park, “you’d better get rid of the joints in your trouser pocket or Snouty’s going to be having another chat with your gonads.”

I followed her into the car park. “Katie, one more thing.”

She walked back towards me. “What’s that?”

“Your mother’s the nicest woman I’ve ever known. Of course, as with most women, she’s a complete bitch, but she’s good at it. I think the world of her…don’t hurt her.”

“Mum loves you to bits eez. She’s always spoken about you. I just felt like giving you a hard time. Of course, as with most men, she thinks you’re a complete cunt, but you’re good at it…don’t hurt her.”

It had been a hard way to gain a friend, but I figured it would be worth it in the end.