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January 2005 Week 3 The
date on Sunday with Trudy McGruder went as expected - badly, very very badly. I
was late meeting her coz I over slept. And I overslept because of the sodding
talking crow again! Yes, he/she/it/whatever was back again, tapping on my
window and making deep ominous sounds; "THOU ART THE ONLY AND TRUE
BEGOTTEN SON OF THOR, ACKNOWLEDGE THY MOST ROYAL AND NOBLE BLOODLINE. DENY THY
MOST VENOMIOUS SPITEFUL MOTHER. SHE SPEAKS LIES TO CLOUD AND CONFUSE YOU!!". By
the time I caught up with her outside "Where
the bleeding hell've you been? You were supposed to be here at 12, it's sodding
half one now!" "Uhm,
sorry, I...overslept." She
gave me a turd-choosing look and started walking quickly towards the Garden
Centre; I was half-running/skipping/hopping to keep up with her. Apparently her
plans for the day were all messed up. She had worked out an exact plan, kind of
like they do in the army and we were now behind schedule. She wouldn't stop
walking and she wouldn't stop talking. 
"Come
on, come on, keep up. We've supposed to've done the
garden furniture by now and should be half way through the soft furnishings, oh
shit, this is the long way round, we'll have to go
back to the photo-prints to catch up with the phototographer, where the sodding
hell is he? Oh, no he's over by the giant toys, quick come on, before he moves
on. Here! Here! Wait! Me! Yes, me I'm next, me me! Look here see, I have a
photo-booking for 1, so if you don't mind, thank you, if you wouldn't mind
taking that little brat off the giant toy zebra.."
And that's when the kid's father grabbed her arm, quite roughly I thought, and
pulled her off the zebra. "It's my daughter's turn - thank you!" he
said and Trudy froze and then sort of just slumped to the ground, in a kind of
low moan and started making duck noises, not funny haha duck noises but creepy
I-want-to-go-home kind of noises. Everyone just stood around staring in a not
too obvious British kind of way. I thought I'd better do something, seeing as
how I was her official boyfriend; "Trudy, you alright? You want something
to eat?" The low quacking stopped and she slowly looked up at me, all
bloated cheeks & puffy eyes with exploded mascara. "YOU!
YOU! IT'S ALL YOUR BLOODY FAULT!!
AAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!" she shouted and lunged at my throat and we started
rolling on the floor. I was trying to keep her finger-nails out of my eye and
didn't notice her left-hand snake down and grab my balls in a death-pinch! I
screamed as she dug her fingernails in. The
Garden Centre security staff managed to subdue Trudy with an out-of-date insect
spray; although she managed to head-butt one of the security ladies in the
crotch - pointless really. While they were trying to get her name & address
I managed to slip away by pretending to be an innocent by-stander - "I
think she's a looney - should be locked up!". Next
day as I limped to school I told Darren what had happened, and he laughed so
much some Coke went into his lungs and he started choking and went a funny blue
colour until he vomited fizzy phlegm out of his nose. Worse
was waiting for me when I got to school. Trudy had got her revenge in first and
had spread a vicious rumour that I was a poof. Darren said we would have to
counter this and he would come up with a strategy. Without telling me, he took
things into his own hands and spread a counter rumour that, yes it was all
true! And that I was secretly in love with Mr McGruder and planning to run away
with him and Trudy's date was a desperate act to keep her family together. This
rumour has confused everyone and now some people think Trudy is my sister and
that I am shagging Mrs McGruder. It's an utter abortion of a mess. After
lunchtime the pain in my crotch was absolutely murder and I had to go to the
school nurse. She
insisted on having a look. "Are those fingernail marks?" "Uhm...don't
know!" "Are
you being abused?" "Uhm...don't
know!" "How
can you NOT know you're being abused??" "Uhm...don't
know!" "You're
not abusing yourself, are you?" "Uhm...don't
know!" "Oh,
bugger off then." Kelly
phoned the next day - she'd heard the rumours in school - how could she not?? -
and wanted to know if I fancied her or her dad! I took
it badly and started shouting and then we got into a fight and she slammed the
phone down. The pain in my scrotum was getting worse - I think it became
infected from Trudy's fingernails - and I was also running a fever. I was
looking at them in the bathroom and decided to wash them with some bleach. Luckily,
my scream only brought Mr Morris Morris running, and not mum,
and he found me passed out on the floor with huge swollen bright red testicles.
The doctor was called and a course of anti-biotics and a soothing cream were
prescribed. I didn't sleep well that night, horrible dreams of Edward
Scissorhands coming at my crotch going 'snip snip' and the sodding crow again
with some warnings I couldn't remember. I
was feeling better in the morning but still not well enough to go to school. At around lunchtime, Ten-Oz, self-styled as The Titan of Titan,
turned up in another mini-cab. He has hundreds of mini-cab cards and
uses each one once, only ever once, and then throws it away. I asked him once
why he did this - but he became all secretive and shy and didn't come & see
me for ages; so I've learned not to bother him. He took up his usual position
at the kitchen door and seemed surprised to see me in a dressing gown. When I
told him what happened he just smirked and smiled his toothless broad grin. He
kept looking past me at the kitchen table and then explained he was a bit
hungry and did I have any food? Food? This from a man who goes everywhere in mini-cabs. I gave him
some of last night's Shepard’s pie and he happily sat on the back step eating
away. "What
happened to your mince?" Oz has a habit of buying 2lb's of mince beef
every week and then cooking a bit of it everyday. "Baddies
& Scoobies come in. Mess it up. Big kunch on
choppy-choppy in pingu!" In Oz-speak this meant that some bad
people had broken into his place, messed it all up and had, incredibly, done a
big turd on his mince beef in the fridge. I pulled a face when I realised what
he meant. "Wathca
do?" He
looked up at me sort of puzzled, "Throw bit away!".
I choose not to say anything and then I started to feel weak, so I held onto
the kitchen table and sat down. Oz stopped eating for a second and looked at me
concerned. "You sleepy sleepy ok? ok?" "Whatcha
mean?" "No
bad dreamy weamy's? Subconchy talkings in thee noggins?" he said tapping
at his head with the spoon and getting a bit of potato stuck in his eyebrow. "Why?
Whatcha mean?" He got scared then and quickly looked away. "Nufink, nufink. No mind me, blabbery jabbery's - just so so. no mind me." He finished the food, licked the plate a
couple of times and jumped up when the new mini-cab sounded it's
horn. "Must
go, leavy leavy." Then he did a strange thing - well alright, another
thing among many - he moved very close to me and whispered, "gotta a secret, secret secret. Can't tell tell no-one. me secret, me secret, secret secret, shhhh" and then he
was off; running down the garden path, throwing away another mini-cab card and
jumping into the car. I've
not spoken about my dad before and I'm only doing it now coz of the sodding
talking bird. If, and I mean a great big sodding IF, if what the bird says is
true then it means; either me dad isn't me dad or he's really a Thunder God and
he's pretending to be normal. And both of these options are very unlikely. His
name's A Thorley and, oh god give me strength, he's president of the Viking
Pillaging & Raping Re-enactment Society. And to be frank he's a total
sodding embarrassment; coz he goes everywhere dressed like a Viking chieftain
with a huge red cloak, massive boots, a golden chest-plate, a huge bloody
helmet with great sodding curled horns and a giant XXXX with the name
'Skullsplitter' on the side. I
remember the last time he came around was for my birthday, what a great sodding
day that was. It started badly when he came in and scraped the artex ceiling
with his pointy helmet - mum was absolutely livid; we'd just had it done. His
latest girlfriend was with him - a weirdo called Lady A'Sif. I asked her if she
was a real Lady and mum butted in and said, "Not
if she's hanging around with your dad!!" There
was a bit of atmosphere after that and then mum smoked all through dinner, even
though dad's girlfriend was shooting her evil dagger eyes. And
guess what he gave me for my birthday, another bloody Nordic Scroll; to go with
all the other sodding Nordic Scrolls. He went on about how old it was and the
sacred writings and that I should be really really grateful for getting it and
that not every boy was lucky enough to get one. I just smiled weakly and
thanked him but it was all pointless really as I don't read ancient Nordic. And
unfortunately it is not an option at Trentham High. Unfortunately
I was well enough the next day to go to school and, as an evil and bastard fate
would have it, it was School Psychologist day. Mr Murcock was all smiles
and secret glances, I think he'd heard something and he wanted to talk about my
sex life. "Do
you think about sex?" This
is what is known as a trick question. If I say no - then he thinks I'm weird
for not thinking about it as that's what everyone does and if I say yes he
thinks I'm frustrated because I can't get any!! I just sat there and counted
the little black hairs sticking out of his nose. I
managed to find Kelly at lunchtime and make up with her, even though she kept
giggling and making claw signs with her hands. I didn't mind though, I was just
glad to have made up with her. I did have to persuade her not have chips at
lunchtime though; I couldn't face the prospect of Natasha-my-date-for-tonight
finding out about Kelly. Russians can be a right merciless lot. The
date with Natasha started off surprisingly well, this
wasn't that surprising coz she paid for everything. She works longs hours at
the Emporium and doesn't have much time to spend her money. I tried to keep her
in the shadows and apart from the crowd, top of the bus & at the back, on
the whole she didn't mind, though she did complain when we ate our McDonald's
Deluxe Meal upstairs in the far corner - all alone apart from a bored cleaner. The
date was going great until we got back to her place - a room over the Emporium
shop - and she asked: "you want coffee?" "don't drink coffee - makes me hyper" She
looked confused, not understanding what hyper meant, so I started jumping up
& down and making strange screeching noises. "Ah you looney. You want tea, da?" "No,
makes me pee." "Stupido
- come up now - we make foreplay" "Oh
bugger...." Here
room wasn't too bad, clean and reasonably tidy, but everything smelt of chips.
She suddenly turned around and lunged towards me. "You
want oral sex?" "What's
that?" "I
put penis in mouth and suck" She made a horrible sucking noise - like
Hannibal Lecter. "Who's
penis?" With the tache, I was beginning to wonder if she had some other
little boy secrets. "Your's idiot!" "No,
no thanks. Uhm, uhm I’ll give it a miss for tonight." "You
want hand-job?" "What's
that?" "Oh,
you know nothing - you sure you not retard? (I shook my head) You know!" -
and she made a wanking sign with her hand. "no - I'll just have some tea if you don't mind." "Ahhhh
- I understand - you virgin - you no have sex." "Uhm,
why don't we start off with a snog and see how things go?" "Snog? What snog?" I sat on the sofa and invited
Natasha over. We
had a break from the spit-sucking and decided to just cuddle on the manky sofa.
I started thinking about the last few days and what the
rook/raven/whatever-the-bloody-feathery-thing-was had said. It wasn't true, it
couldn't be true. That me, Colin Thurson, a Stokie was
the son of Thor. It just didn't make sense.
She
was lying back in my lap and I was gently stroking her face and silky hair when
I realised with a start it was her tache. "It's
a pity about your tache!" "Tache - what tache?" "You
know, that - the moustache - otherwise you'd be really good looking." "What
fooking moustache?" "That!
That - the hair on your lip!" "What
fooking hair??" "You
know..." And then I realised with a start - both of us were in denial. "You fooking English pig-shit. I pay and pay for everyting
and you call me hairy face! I fooking kill you and piss on your grave."
She started to throw things at me and I thought a bit of humour might cheer her
up. "Piss
on my grave? I was thinking of a sea burial actually! Agghh!"
She caught me on the nose with her hairdryer & I decided to leg it.
"See you around!" "Fooking cheapskate bastard English
shit-eater." The
ramifications of the Date from Hell with Natasha are still on-going. I no
longer go into the Emporium but wait outside for Darren to get my chips. He
brought them out and said she'd gobbed on them. "I
don't mind, it's not the first time I've swallowed her saliva!" |