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.
“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!”
“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.”