Blast! Time to tidy up. But I haven’t done the Torygraph Crossword yet. Nor taken steps to dispose of the turkey’s remains. Not even chosen the wine for my dinner. Never mind; read the latest tank catalogue from Bovington. ‘TanksRus’ I think. Must try to pace myself; Festina Lente. And now bloody Ermintrude, the computer, is trying to tell me how to conjugate Latin? Beat it, daftie, before I kick you in the testicoli! [Hello? Captain Stupid? I’m meant to be female; which tends to rule out the aforementioned. Ermintrude] (Did I tell you he sits down to pee?EdZilla) Be quiet! Besides. I’m ill. So there! I have to find my puffer. I’ve been wheezing like buggery for the last couple of weeks. Consumption probably. For all the sympathy I get from anyone! Boo! Hoo! Still, even if the toddies aren’t working, they don’t half taste good. Might even try and force one down just now. (Hypotwatiac! EdZ)
No; really. I’m ill! [Just sickening, actually. Ermintrude] Seriously. Finally managed to drag my broken body off it’s death bed to see the quack. Such a nice, understanding, sympathetic sort, too. (Poor, deluded cow. EdZ) Apparently it’s not Beri Beri, nor consumption. (Nappy rash, in fact. EdZ) Silence! Not that I ever complain. And even when I do; no one listens. Aunty Biotix for me. And lots of puffers – I always had a weak chest; ‘Cough. Cough.’ [God, he does go on, doesn’t he? Ermintrude] According to Valkerie, I’m not breathing in deeply enough when I use the puffers. According to EdZilla, the problem is, I’m still breathing. Cow! Still, at least it contributes to the image of a starving writer in his garret, coughing out his last. ‘Absinthe makes the heart beat faster’. I tried a couple of pained coughs on Valkerie, EdZilla and Bronco, but the bitches just fell about laughing. Wait till I include the tragic pastiche in my book. How many zeds in Yellow Fever? [‘Swine fever’ more like. Ermintrude] (Oink! Oink! EdZ) You’ll miss me when I’m gone. [Rubbish. Our aim’s improving every day. Ermintrude]
Don’t forget to remember
Aaaarrrrggggghhhhhh! I’ve only gone and flooded the bloody kitchen! Again! The second time in six months! What the hell is wrong with me? – Don’t answer that! – I left the hot water running into the sink to do some dishes; only I must have come through here and forgotten all about it. Blast and damnation. If I hadn’t gone through for a repeat toddy, I might be up to my tits in tidal waves! At least it let me use some bits of the Sunday Torygraph to help mop up the tsunami. Even cleaned the kitchen floor. I’d quite forgotten its true colour. Then a few hours later, I was about to venture out when I couldn’t find the car keys. I know I’d left them on top of the Sunday Holiday Section of the paper – that I had used to mop up the deluge… So I found them ten minutes later in the rubbish bin.
I hate everybody, again.
John J McCabe. Copyright.