Friday 12th August 2011

 

I managed to incur the men folk's wrath this morning, especially Dick's. He wasn't best pleased with me and spanked my arse. He spanked it bloody hard too, it smarted for ages and all because I played a little joke on him. Honestly as he gets older I swear he's losing his sense of humour. It was his birthday on the first of August and I think someone must have given him a gift card for a humour bypass operation. He obviously cashed it in on one of his lunch breaks at work.

So what happened I hear you ask? Well, let me start at the very beginning as a singing nun impostor once said.

I had a fancy for a couple of squares of really dark rich chocolate with a cup of tea before going to bed last night. A couple of squares weren't enough for this foolish and greedy houseboy and I actually scoffed the whole bar. I think it acted as a stimulant. No matter how I tried I just could not relax into sleep. I tossed and turned and heaved and sighed and moaned. I was too hot so I got up and opened the window. It was still too hot, so I stripped off my tee and then dangled my feet from under the duvet. I lay on one side then the other, on my back, on my front, back onto my side and so on.

The men folk finally exploded and not in a good way. The rafters rang to the blasphemous tune of  'for fuck's sake, Gilli, what is fucking wrong with you tonight, it's like bedding down with a fucking jumping bean. Lie still and go to sleep or go in the other fucking room.'

Ears ringing I huffed off to toss and turn and moan alone in the single room. As I twisted and gyrated I cursed my inability to resist a bargain. The chocolate I'd eaten was from a stack of bars I'd bought from Sainsbury's yesterday morning. It was Lindt chocolate and it was on sale for the princely sum of fifty pence a bar because it was nearing its sell by date. It usually costs an arm and a leg so being a thrifty house lad I HAD to have it at such a knock down price. I cleared the shelf of all but two bars - I didn't want to be too greedy. I felt it was my duty to leave a bargain for someone else.

I managed a couple of naps in the end, but all in all it was a lousy night. I finally chucked in the towel and got up at quarter past five this morning. It was raining and a bit chilly so I slipped back into the master bedroom to retrieve my top from the bedroom floor.  I spied the lube bottle on the bedside cabinet and experienced a small stab of jealousy. It hadn't been there when I'd left. The men folk had obviously enjoyed coitus at some point after my departure from the bed of cohabitation, the selfish pair of horny swines.

I loped downstairs and put the kettle on to make a cup of tea and then went to get the milk off the doorstep. I picked up the bottles from the porch step and clasping them against my chest stood for a few moments surveying the rain soaked garden. We have several rose bushes in the front garden and with all the rain we've had lately they're ruined. Most of the petals lay in sodden heaps on the ground and I made mental note to clear them up later.

Something suddenly made me glance down at the milk bottles I was holding. I almost shit a bin lid. There was a huge black slug on top of one of them. It was a fucking gleaming, fat ebony monster. It must have been on the side of the bottle when I picked it up and I hadn't noticed. Snails and slugs often congregate around the plant pots on the porch when it's wet and it wasn't the first time I'd found one suckered to a milk bottle. Skin crawling I thrust the bottle away from my chest in revulsion before the beast clambered onto me.

All of a sudden a wicked idea popped into my mind and I was powerless to resist it. I can only think bad fairies were abroad in the garden and decided to magic me into mischief.

I sneaked upstairs carefully carrying the slug topped milk bottle. I crept into the bedroom and over to the bed where the men folk were peacefully slumbering. Shane was lying on his side, but Dick was on his back with one hand above his head. Perfect.

I positioned the milk bottle over his bare chest and shook it. The beast resisted at first, but I shook harder and it plopped off the bottle and onto Dick's chest, near his nipple. He stirred, but didn't wake up. I put the bottle down on the bedside cabinet and bending down put my mouth close to his ear.

 

The Scene That Followed:

 

Me, whispering urgently:  "Dick, wake up, Dick."

Dick, opening his eyes, but not fully awake, murmured sleepily: "what, what is it, Gilli, what's the matter, honey?"

Me, making my face look alarmed and still whispering: "lie still, Dick, don't move whatever you do. There's something on you. It must have come through the window during the night. It's one of those things that's been in the news lately."

Dick, lying stock still and beginning to look worried, also whispers: "what things, what do you mean?"

Me, in tones of deadly seriousness: "a flying leech, the press call them vampire slugs. There's one on your chest. It's sucking your tit. I think it's feeding off you."

Dick, eyes wide and now fully awake, slowly lifts his head from the pillow and looks to his chest. There's a kind of split second of silence as he eyeballs the 'flying vampire leech' nestling his nipple and then all hell let loose: "JESUS CHRIST!" 

He vacated the bed faster than a pilot ejecting from a burning plane. The slug flew off his chest and landed back on the bed. Shane, alerted by Dick's scream of horror, snapped out of sleep and sat bolt upright demanding to know what the bloody hell was going on. Dick, still in a state of shock, pointed a trembling hand at the slug on the sheet and began babbling about flying leeches. It was too much for me. I creased up. I was laughing so hard I thought I was going to crack a rib.

It soon became apparent that the Daddies did not share my mirth. Dick was seriously put out and made a lunge for me. I ended up sprawled over the bed with my shorts around my knees and his hand whacking my bare backside. Shane had no sympathy for me and brushed aside my sulky complaints about it 'only being a joke' with the words, "you're a menace with your tasteless juvenile pranks."

Dick had thawed a bit by the time he left for work and this 'naughty' houseboy got his usual kiss. Poor sod, he really was shaken up. I suppose it would give anyone a fright to wake up to find they were apparently breast-feeding a large slug.

I've turned some of the chocolate bars I bought into a rather lush chocolate and coffee cake to serve as dessert after dinner this evening.  Hopefully it will win over the men folk and make them fully forgive my wicked ways.

If there are any slug lovers out there worrying about the fate of the ebony vampire leech then worry no more. It was safely released back into the wild.

I've had a few emails asking if I have any more books in the works and the answer is yes. I'm still working on my 2008 memoirs, so bear with me. Hopefully I'll get properly in the writing zone soon and make some headway with it.

 

Got to go now. Men folk finish early on a Friday. 

 

Monday 22nd August 2011

 

Thanks to that swine Leo I've got chronic acid indigestion today. I'm guzzling gallons of emulsion paint to try and neutralise it before it burns a hole in my stomach. I didn't dare kiss the men folk goodbye this morning in case I burped mid-snog and shot flames down their throat. 

It's not just my stomach either. Going to the toilet this morning was a bit of an ordeal. Talk about a hot shit. I swear the water in the lavatory bowl boiled as I jettisoned my load. I had to open the window to let out the steam. I made sure to have a fire extinguisher on standby when I wiped my botty in case the toilet paper burst into flames. I know, I'm disgusting, so sue me

By the way I'm not drinking real emulsion, so for God's sake if you have acid reflux don't go galloping down to the hardware shop to buy a can of Dulux. The stuff I'm drinking goes by the trade name of Gaviscon. It looks like emulsion, has the consistency of emulsion and tastes like shit, but as long as it soothes my churning guts I don't care. 

Shane as per usual had no sympathy for me. He told me it's my own stupid fault and it might teach me a lesson about showing off and trying to get one up on Leo. We went over to his place for lunch yesterday. He's into cooking Mexican food at the moment and had prepared a hot buffet with lots of different dishes including one called Pollo De Fuego, which roughly translates as chicken of fire. He warned me off it, saying it wasn't for the faint hearted and I might be better sticking to the milder dishes. It sounded like a challenge to my ears. I immediately helped myself to a generous portion and slapped some jalapenos on the side just to prove I'm no wus when it comes to spicy food. 

Oh foolish houseboy!

My gob was on fire from the first mouthful and it took all my willpower not to spit it back onto the plate. I could see them all looking at each other, exchanging grins. It made me determined to eat every last bite on my plate, and I did. It was tasty in an agonising kind of way, a bit like culinary bdsm, the pain almost had a pleasurable aspect to it. 

By the time I finished sweat was running down my back and between my arse cheeks. I was praying that no one would release a heat-seeking missile in the close vicinity because I'd be a fucking dead man for sure. I had more glow around me than a kid from a Ready Brek advert.

I drank loads of cold water and even slipped into Leo's kitchen and ate a mound of chilled sour cream from the fridge when I thought no one was looking, but boy did it take a while before my mouth stopped burning. My stomach soon let me know that it didn't appreciate being made to process what amounted to nuclear fuel. 

There's a wasp buzzing around in the study and while I may not be a wus when it comes to spicy food I'm a total wus when it comes to wasps. They're evil creatures and I don't fancy being stung so I'm going to sneak away before it gets scent of my fear and comes to get me.

 September 2011

 
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