Posted by: docdenbow | March 5, 2011

Christmas Eve 1999 – What can you say?


I wrote this little tale 12 years ago.

What can you say?

What can anyone say to something like that?

If you are really quick witted, then you might just think of the right words. Most of us wouldn’t. How many days would it take the average person to think up a suitably witty riposte?

How many could think of anything either suitable and witty? Maybe one may think of something suitable OR witty. But suitable AND witty?

Well, that would be pretty difficult. It could be done, of course it could be done. It has been done. He did it. That’s what makes him a special person to most people. He thought of something both suitable and witty that he could say. Suitable and witty!

How long did it take him to come up with this response? No time at all! He did it immediately.

Straight away!
That, with the benefit of hindsight was where his problems began. One brilliantly witty put-down, the high point of his life at that moment. from there it all began to go wrong. Horribly, and irrevocably wrong…………………………………………

The day began much the same as any other. The alarm clock jangled him into consciousness, and he realised within seconds that he had a hangover. His mind was clouded with a thick fog, with disjointed thoughts of last night popping in and out of focus. His mouth, or rather the stale taste within it, was a testament to the lagers and cigarettes that had passed by his now scaly front teeth. He tottered to the bathroom and had that first piss of the day. The pleasure he derived from emptying his almost bursting bladder, bordered on sexual. However, the churning he felt in his stomach and the waves of nausea that washed over him made sex quickly disappear from his mind. He reached for the mouthwash and swilled it around his mouth.

Tilting his backwards and looking towards the peeling paint on the ceiling he began to gargle the minty mixture. Bad move! As it swilled about the back of his mouth he suddenly had the urge to be sick. Turning back towards the toilet he…………………..but it was  too late. He managed, not unlike a giant hamster, to regurgitate the curry he had consumed at the “Bengal Brasserie” the night before. He missed the toilet and had spewed into the bath. The bath is not usually a bad place to spew. Not usually. In fact it is one of the better places to spew if one is going to spew. (Just think about that for a moment; think of your own home, and think of the possible suitable receptacles for vomit, and my bet is that the bath would be most peoples’ Top Ten. Up there with the toilet, sink, buckets and so on.)

However, if one is aware that the date was 24 December, and lying in the bath was the defrosting Christmas turkey, then one would realise that a house has many more suitable receptacles for vomit than a bath, which would be descending the puke receptacle chart like a Cliff Richard Christmas Single in January.

Barking again, he wretched still more of his tortured stomach’s contents into the bath, and over the recumbent bird. Many phrases passed his lips, most were nonsensical and consisted of questioning the Good Lord as to why He had it in for this unfortunate vomit stained wretch. The Good Lord in His infinite wisdom chose not to answer, but merely contented Himself with a smile.

He looked himself up at down in the full length mirror and groaned. Some bastard  had removed half of his beard and both eyebrows. To say that he looked a little strange could be construed as being something of an understatement. To say that he looked like a loony would be spot on. He decided to get dressed, or at least cover his nakedness so that he could wander about his flat this Christmas Eve without fear of causing offence to his girly flat mates. He hoped they weren’t awake yet, as it was their turkey he had so originally and thoroughly basted. For his own part he was having his Christmas dinner with his parents, which would be an encounter worth viewing if he didn’t remember to remove what remained of his ratty beard. First though the turkey needed a shower.

He was standing naked under the shower holding the turkey in his arms trying to wash off the vomit with vigourous hand movements, when Kelly his blonde nubile flat mate walked in unannounced. She was in the habit of doing this as she was a nurse and took great pride in telling everyone that once you’ve seen one naked body, then you’ve seen them all. There was nothing to be embarrassed about, she would say. She’d seen him naked thousands of times, but his part he had never even glimpsed one of her nipples unless it was covered by at the least a bra.

However, on this occasion there was plenty to be embarrassed about. Plenty. To Kelly watching the syncopated movements of his arms and buttocks, it appeared for all the world like he was having sexual intercourse with something, or at least w***ing. He hadn’t heard her enter so when she cried out, “Peter! What the hell are you doing? I want to use that shower after you!”and he turned around to reveal Christmas dinner next to his loins, Kelly discovered the true meaning of the word embarrassment, and left Peter alone in the bathroom with the words,“You stinking dirty pervert!” ringing in his ears.

Pete flung the turkey down in the bath and leapt out, and chased after Kelly – still naked. She had, after all, seen it all before.

“Kelly!” he called. “Kelly, I’d been sick on the turkey I was trying to wash it!”
These words were shouted as he chased down the hallway towards the living room to where Kelly  had retreated. He ran into the living room, and was about to attempt to explain that he wasn’t trying to have sex with the turkey when his Area Manager entered from the kitchen carrying a two mugs of coffee. Kelly looked at Simon Reynolds, who was Pete’s boss, and said,
“I’ve just caught him in the bathroom doing Christ knows what with the turkey!”

“Well Pete, just what were you doing with that turkey stark naked in the bathroom.” Simon grinned.

“Well it is Christmas, so I was just trying to stuff it, mate!” Pete replied.

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