Don’t we all love Madonna????
In a way, I REALLY DO…
To be continued….
Don’t we all love Madonna????
In a way, I REALLY DO…
To be continued….
Once upon a dream there was a very special blueberry tree.
Its fruits refused to blend into muffins so they only showed at night, when they talked funny gossip about the garden bugs’ adventures.
And everyday, at nine o’clock, the flower delivery guy stole a fruit, dropped a braid and hopped away, happy to keep Ron the gardener’s secret during one more shift.
But the secret would soon become a muffin.
The antiques dealer and her charming servant lived towards the West of the garden. They never got tired of receiving a delicate bunch of flowers from an anonymous sender.
No, the flowers were not for the mistress, but for her jolly loyal servant Milly, who used the flowers to keep busy pressing them into cards or diadems, or anything she could come up with… but what Milly did not like, was to bake half a dozen of muffins at night , for Ms Jane to enjoy breakfast with her time-rich clients.
– ” You haven’t told Milly, have you?” The gardener would enquire from time to time.
– ” Sort of…. NOT.” And so Ron the gardener would mess up the flower driver’s dreadlocks.
– ” I hope I don’t catch you nicking the blueberries”
– ” It’s a small price for a secret”
– ” Are you suggesting Milly’s heart is of a small value?”
– ” Oh, no, I didn’t mean that…. I mean you need to water the blueberry plant with brandy next time, so they grow plumper…” said John, trying to redo all his hair.”
– “Same time tomorrow!”
Ron the gardener had first met Milly on her third day of work, when she rushed to him for help to mend a Vase she dropped while dusting. The girl was so worried that she didn’t say a word while glueing the pieces back together, one after another, until the vase was whole again. He was still hoping for a chance to talk to her- but all he got was ironical messages sent back by John, such as
“Please could Mr Love talk John into a haircut instead of sending the fifty- eighth bunch of gorgeous flowers. Thank you.”
* * *
One morning there were no flowers delivered to the doorstep. The two ladies felt surprisingly unspecial.
“I just wish my fan would actually turn out to be….. John.”
Later in the day Milly received a call from Ms Jane saying she would be late, for a very fine deal had been reached for some new acquired goods.
No pretty flowers to do artwork that day. Milly felt like having a break, so she went for a stroll down the lane.
She saw John picking some berries.
– “Where’ s my bouquet? Has my admirer given up so easy?”
– “Hey Milly! You scared me! Do you want some blueberries? The gardener’s away- there’s a rumour he won the lottery last night!”
– “The….. what? ”
– “Yep! The lottery.”
What a strange day this was, thought Milly. Maybe it was another fib.
– “John! Stop chewing that dreadlock !”
– “ooops… don’t tell Ron…”
– ” About you biting your own dreadlocks?”
-” No, silly! about the blueberries…”
– ” Actually, I was just thinking I might take some for tomorrow’s darling muffins…. you won’t say anything?”
– “I might…. NOT”. They both laughed as usual.
– “See you again tomorrow when you bring my fan’s art supplies”.
Just before she turned away from him, some familiar car brakes pulled like the sound of a nightmare snorer, just in time for Jane and the gardener to catch the conversation.
The stalky man stepped out. The look he gave Milly was like two slaps accross her face…. This strong fellow with those calm, cloudy eyes was the one sending the flowers everyday! Dropping the stolen berries from her skirt and all over the floor, she was even more vexed by the gardeners spontaneous gesture: he was helping her pick the blueberries!…..
Ms Jane, who knew her servant just like a daughter, could follow the full story.
The gardener was firm,
– “I experienced the archaeologist’s dream yesterday while pulling out some roots. The Council insisted I could keep the old coins, so I was planning to buy some land for you and I Milly, and even build a flower art workshop for yourself, just so you needn’t bake a single more muffin again. I already had in mind a lady who would do the housekeeping for you. You were to me the freshest flower in the bouquet, but now I see you are an ungrateful blueberry thief who mocked my feelings while taking the gifts.
– ” I’m so sorry, I…..”
– You’re not sorry. Today we found out who my real lady is… one who you should have learnt from.
– “Don’t talk to her like that!” Said John, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, “She works hard everyday and cheers up my mornings!, and it was me who offered the blueberries just now…”
– “Then take her hand… take it! I shall ask for Ms Jane’s on my knees.”
After a brief exchange of amusing glances, both men fell on their knees. The ladies felt a warm blush of complicity.
A sudden gush of wind blew a few ripe blueberries away like confetti, while the happy bugs flew and crawled towards the spot where the fruit spilt over.
– “One more thing, Ron continued, my lucky messenger, if you could spare a couple of hours this evening to do a spikey dreadlock coiffure over this foolish head of mine, and it looks good- I promise you – all four of us will enjoy digging more coins out from the soil… and then we can do a proper sausages and blueberries barbecue!
The drivers behind, who had been listening while they waited for Jane to move her car out of the way, started to beep and cheer….
– “Hey, we’re engaged!” Cried Milly, “can’t you wait? And please don’t drive over our blueberries! I’m trying a new muffin recipe in the early morning!”
* * *
More posts coming soon…
in the meantime, do share with friends!
It was a sleep-through Saturday when a very pleasant, multi-dimentional dream got spoilt by a truck horn.
In the dream, a jeweller shouted „all items free today!”
As reality quickly hosted the small space in Lydia’s living room, she didn’t even bother brushing her hair to fly to the grocer’s for energy drink supplies.
The door squeaked rudely when she got back and there was mail on the floor. It looked like a greeting card.
She laughed to herself for the first time in a week.
Who would want to greet a bankrupt, overweight, cheap energy drink addict who had to dump the mail into the reclying bin just as the Doctor ordered her to ?!
The card was an ounce heavy and she forgot the shopping bag on her doorstep (recession times turn neighbours into either theives or best mates).
Lydia W. mechanically groomed for the card ritual and cleared a few empty cans dotted around. She still had a smile on her face.
”This is a joke I predict”.
As she opened it, image and sound memories surfaced from a hectic airport: a golden ring had fallen out of the envelope.
Three years back, she had missed a very crucial business flight because of that braty ring.
That jewel was the beginning of the life events that made her believe someone had given her the „Evil Eye” -but she never thought she knew who it was.
It was during a summer heatwave. She was queuing for the Lost & Found Desk and determined to return the ring she had stepped over while using the escalators. Not in time to catch her plane.
When she got back to the office her job and bits and bobs of her perfect life started crumbling apart.
As she held the card, her heart was beating slightly faster because she felt like ripping it.
Luuuuuckily, she read it.
„Dearest Mrs W, thank you for returning my ring to the desk in summer 2016. It is a very precious charm. When I got it back, I was very happy, especially because I could pawn-broke it to pay for my Nursing Diploma.
”I have been working for some time in the addiction field and Dr Shanti and I are getting married.
„We have lots of future plans and are coming to the island to open an addiction clinic for women.
„I have had the chance to google you- please forgive me for this- and Dr Shanti had the idea of employing you to do all the Marketing…. which is the least we could do.
„We are ever so grateful you changed our lives and we pray for you.
„Please consider our proposal with the ring on your beautiful left hand.
„We look forward to getting a positive answer.
Anne and Dr Shanti.„
A tear tickled Lydia’s hand as she squeezed the ring tightly onto her finger.
Mineral water…. expensive mineral water….. a wild craving took hold of her…. but she grabbed a fountain pen and her last sheet of paper to reply to them instead.
More books here!
Thanks for sharing!
Abi was about to become the last person in Pimlico Village, London, to give up on Fix.
Yes, he was the local grocer who sold him forty small plastic bags everyday for Fix to stuff weed in, the very despicable mature man who felt that any minute Allah was to punish him with lightening for exchanging his pound coins for notes- just for the buzz he felt when being called ” boss” every night.
That very morning Abi had done his morning prayer in the same stolen t-shirt bought off from Fix, this notorious fifteen year old who had even made his mother ill.
A new stock of cherry tomatoes was dumped by the delivery man.
” These are the smaller version of myself!” said Lesly Windrum, the enlightened old schizophrenic from the third floor upstairs.
Hearing this, Abi dropped the customer’s change all over, and the lights flickered again. The electrician was four hours late already.
This was a message from Allah. So he viciously hid the tomato case behind the counter. Then he looked at his watch. It was a Hugo Boss that Fix had sold to him- and it hurt Ali’s eyes.
It was going to be a long day til Fix turned up at his shop, whispering “hello, Boss. Anything for me?”
But as Destiny has it’s own funny way of synchronizing, Fix turned up at 4 PM. He needed baby milk again for his secret son or Suzy, the betrayed mother, would give his name to the Doctor and reveal his fatherhood.
Fix had that smile on him, this different kinda a smile he only put on when he needed something off credit.
” ok I’ll give you your milk boy. Stay here, I have got something for you.”
“Thanks, said Fix. You’re a sick devil. And I’m not a boy.”
All customers were served quickly but roughly. Abi put finger on his lips as if he were about to pass on a deadly secret:
” I got new stock today. “Magic Tomatoes”. They’re grown at the feet of an old volcano that has just erupted. See. You take one. It’s like gas pumping you up.”
” Yes. You take it, you become superman. You clean the house. After you clean the house, makes you wanna write. You take paper and you write down your future.”
“Um. That’ s cool.”
” Wait I’m not finished. After you design your future plan, your heart is filled with soapy love. You love everybody again and makes you go apologise. Makes you in peace with everyone.”
“You’ll never feel like this before. But you can only take one a day. Twenty quid for you.”
“Shut up and gimme some of that shit. I’ll pay you as usual.”
“No. I want the money now. This is special shit”
“What’ the matter with you today?”
” Okay. I’l give you Suzy’s milk and the magic tomatoes, and you pay me next week in clean money. I don’ wanna have no blood on my hands.”
“Please. Give me that shit!”
Abi said the shortest prayer he knew and popped the cherry tomato into his mouth. He was thanked with a gangster’s twist of the eyebrow.
The electrician came in. Abi pointed out
“Not now, you’re late, got to do my prayer now.”
” I can wait.”
* * *
The week was this time different and unexpected; Fix was coming around everyday at a different time for his magic tomato, to not be spotted by the dealers.
Talks in the neighbourhood spoke about the young lad having started window cleaning with his elder brother, having also gotten back together with Suzy and even being seen pushing the pram in the park.
He wasn’t getting anymore plastic bags. The nasties appeared nervous while looking for him.
” You got his new number?”
As Abi was very concerned about the outcome of his trick, Fix’s father walked in on Sunday looking serious.
“I’ve got a good spanking to give you Abi. ”
Electricity through the grocer’s body rushed. Oh, no. Had his mission failed? Had he done something terribly wrong?
Not so. The wounded father trembled and threw himself into Abi’s arms, sobbing
“My child, my man, you gave me my child back. This is for You, my dad’s Army Veteran Watch. Put it on. Take it. My wife is getting better and has asked me to bring some vegetables home from here. Magic vegetables, ha, ha, ha! You are a snake-charmer!
” and the baby is getting christened next month, we’re grandparents now!”
Abi looked as his watch, at his tomatoes, at the plastic little bags and the lights flickered again.
A couple of dealers from Fox’s previous gang came in and looked down as they met Fox’s father’s eyes. After hesitating, one said
“Can we have three of your magic tomatoes please boss?”
More Humour here.
A twenty-pound note and an American Express card are getting all philosophical while left over the night table.
– “You are really lucky, says the note to the card. You’ve got a nice life. You get to see great new places and you’re value is unlimited. I’m just caught inside the human mainstream of Need vs. Temptation.
– I’m not sure I get what you mean, Blue Queen…
-Well, put it this way. I go round in circles. I pay a KFC dinner, then am used to buy pesticides with, stuffed in the pockets of Dictators, then thrown onto a casino table where they swear at me and all of my sisters, and before I realise it I’m back in a KFC till.
– That’s not so bad.
Only when I get the chance to be used to purchase perfume or a cartoon film it might get slightly exciting, but other than that I don’t even get to see any daylight, find a boyfriend coin, and everything they use me for is outraging.
” If only they could finance a rocket with my help and discover alien life or some’ink, I’d get a great buzzy feeling…
– Come on, stop whining! Look at myself. I’m owned by an egocentric, impotent, boring businessman who only needs me to show off around. He even lets the edge of me show out a little to proove a point in front of the ladies.
” I can’t stand the idiot. Sometimes I block my own function for a few seconds just to embarrass him. He’s a waste of drinking water. You see, so what if I am loaded, I’m just used for petty purposes and it brakes my heart.
“I often dream that a cool gangster comes and steals me off this jerk and then I get my last few hours of hilarious Jokes cracking with the bad guys- who are actually way more noble in heart than this jerk who carries me on him like a war trophy.
– I see. Maybe you’re right! But give us some advice, Gold Prince- what can I do to change my miserable routine?
– Easy! Just let yourself drop on the floor somewhere busy and cosmopolitan. You will be frightened at first, but it could change your Destiny. Then we will not be having these chats anymore. You might be picked up by a groovy mechanic who plays reggae and flies to the Caribbean, then tip a happy mother of twelve, Blue Queen.
“But the important bit lies here- before you let yourself drop into the unknown, take a look back and make a lasting picture of all the happy memories you’ve had- you certainly should have many- and not be scared.
– Yeah! I’ll do that!
– But wait. Look at the jerk. He’s snoring with his Armani spectacles on. Now that cryptocurrency has emerged and we are thus endangered species, bear in mind that you have a chance of a very prolonged life in the distant future within collector’s treasuries or in a museum, so give it a chance and bet on survival.
-Yes you’re saying all this, so why don’t you just let yourself drop out of his wallet next chance you get?
– Well. That’s because of my nature. I got comfortable with Hating someone to the gut all the time, so I am staying here til the day I expire….”
More Humor here.
To make the most of this free vacation, here are some great ideas to make the leap!
1- Create your own glamour strategy.
For instance, if you like doing the shopping, take a cabin light suitcase instead of plastic bags or a trolley. You will notice the globe-trotter effect.
2- You are always in the public eye. Even at home. This is why I always advise to invest in a quality night robe- because you never know who will be knocking on your door, at anytime.
3- Make two separate “errand outfits” available. Something casual you can easily slip in preferably in neutral colours.
4- Develop a unique original cooking recipe from your own taste buds. It may take time, but once you’re good at it you will conquer the world through its belly.
5- Make technology work for you, and not others. Set your privacy and availability preferences- you don’t want the 24- hour- on – call stressful feeling making you paranoid.
The same applies to becoming dependant on technology- you will look pathetic -and your existence will be pathetic- if your life is at your fingertips’ mercy.
Cut down on social media and switch your devices off for at least an hour a day.
6- Choose comfort over glamour. That doesn’t mean chopping your hair off a la garconne… but you know how unappealing high heels look when the ankles are blistered.
7- Be the Real Princess. Never do anything in your own company that you would not do in front of Prince Charming. Habits are creepy little Devils that create reflexes.
8- Have a favourite secret little place where you feel you connect easily with yourself. It may be a bench at a park, the office roofterrace or even a nightclub. Make sure you do not disclose this location even if you happen to believe you’ve “found the One” and can’t resist sharing the very place where you feel empowered.
9- Learn a few words or funny phrases in another tongue everytime you chat with a different language speaker. Some funny, positive words they ‘ll be proud to teach you.
10- Memorize at least two clean jokes.
11- Plan an “I’m not interested- leave me alone” strategy.
If you can walk away, it can be something like
-Oh, no, my beans are burning on the fire!
or if you’re on a plane, train or waiting room, you can think of anything like ” I haven’ t slept for two nights and I need my hours not to get wrinkles “.
12- Acknowledge your origins.
” I’m from the nineties, I need my shot of dancing”.
” You don’t mess up with a Spanish woman”.
” My grandma slaughtered cattle on her farm”.
It will show you’ve had a Youth and are still kinda living it, and you have pumping blood in your system.
13- When you go shopping, choose items you would wear on a week- end escapade or on your best friend’s Hen night- as opposed to work or dating. This way you will dress like the Real You.
14- Elaborate a fantastic lie to sound test people- you will find the right time when you Laugh and ask “did you really believe I had a microchip implant fitted in my navel?”
15- Embrace tradition. Wear a wrist watch. Use a paper diary that will not let you down. Carry a pen, tissues, and cash.
16- Erase sentences starting with ” I hate…” from your daily speech.
17- Learn something useful for life and not only career: First Aid, Deaf Sign Language or mending a car. Now you’ve got the time!
18- Go and Splash some cash on that Cabbage Patch Kid you dreamed of adopting when you were eleven years old- and never got, or that motorbike you wished you had as a teen or even a that trip to the Niagara Falls your selfish first husband kept on postponing. Time hasn’t managed to change you that much!
19- Making new healthy habits at the same time your ditching old bad habits proves there’s no time to waste or to procrastinate.
20- Be extra careful with who you tell last night’s freaky weird dream to- people will be able to read your subconscious mind- so beware of the competition!
21- Instead of using foul language when you really gotta swear, make up your own funny personalised words which can range from a food you dislike e.g “hairy chicken!” to a politician you loathe “X in pajamas!”.
And remember, fantasizing with romance is equally as healthy as any other subject of fantasy- so allow your imagination to flow while you’e the Queen of Your Castle!
Thanks for sharing!
More humour here.
“I knew it!”
The golden ring found on the floor- right in front of my face- that the dishevelled foreigner handed me for ten quid was made of brass, said the jeweller, holding a scorn.
I learnt two lessons. First, you’ve gotta be really smart and lucky to take advantage of someone, like I had just tried to do.
Second, right from the moment the actor picked up the ring from the floor, I had the remote but tangible feeling I was a Muppet on a Stage.
Modern upbringing completely deconstructs our instincts to reset us into polite, pleasant, non- conflicting, non- judgemental complying “citizens”.
But isn’t there a very thin line between following a first impression given by your heart- and Judging?
“Judging is sinful.”
If you’ve been an overprotected kid who has been denied the joys, lows, emotion-release or dangers that come with fighting- verbally or physically- then mate, you’re gonna have a steep mountain to climb.
When we go to bed, we think “tomorrow will be a good day, cos I ‘ll be doing this, and this, and so on”. Then we forget there’s a good seven or eight hours where we are helpless in the webs of our psyche. We wake up startled and terrorised. Traumatised. But – thank goodness- it was just a nightmare.
A signpost maybe? [sociallocker][/sociallocker]So we open dreamsdictionary.com .We read that dreaming you are in a morgue means you are ” about to receive some distressing news very soon.”
Eight years down the line there has been not one distressing news. It was the Democracy of the World Wide Web at work.
You learn to trust, mistrust, like, not like, love, and Yes, Hate. In some cases there is nothing wrong with Hating, It’s a natural emotion which we shouln’t act upon, but allow ourselves to feel and Channel away. And it can be a warning of trouble in many cases.
Animals are born equipped with instinct- so why does it take a good twenty years of replacing with academic, moral, and ethical knowledge, with the side trauma that comes with exams and correction?
I will encourage my kids to Follow Their Gut Feeling, like many noticeable Leaders have, instead if googling ” dream interpretation” like I did or ending up in a Tarot Reading Parlour when their First Love doesn’t Like their new post on social media.
The good news about instinct is- it is unsurpressable. So pick up your adventure bag, look people in the eye and don’t let anyone spoil your jolly good fun again!
Thanks for sharing!
More humour here.
His flight to Tokyo had been cancelled until further notice. Not a fan of waiting at the Airport bees nest, Antoine had left his luggage at Heathrow, and then felt free and weightless exploring the darker side of London: Soho.
Not used to the rude crowds and always getting in the way of busy smugglers- “je m’excuse, je m’excuse“, his smartphone was ringing inside his pocket, but he was too absorbed as an outsider to hear it or feel it vibrate. The co-founder of his Fur Fashion company needed his e-signature desperately that morning.
Comics shops, sex shops and betting shops seemed to wink at his presence.
Until he spotted a trace of blood on a short-cut alleyway. A rush of excitement got his heart pumping and taste buds alive and greedy.
Wasn’t he the enfant exemplaire, the perfect husband, father, citizen, cart racer? Not today.
He looked around him, and looked down to the relish stain again. He hadn’t seen any cops patrolling. The stain drew a line, jotted with little burgundy spots like French wine, and he just followed it.
Through a window above, the four Romanians quickly took their leather jackets off.
A door. A broken door.
-“Hi! I know you from somewhere. You want girls?”, asked a strong bold man with golden chains, smiling as he knew all Antoine’s sorrows, longing and achievements to the gut.[sociallocker][/sociallocker]
-“Ah, me, no, I’m just a businessman from Toulouse”.
-“Come have a Whiskey then!”
Antoine saw that the trace of blood disappeared at the door step, and not knowing why, what or when, he followed the bold bouncer up the narrow stairs. He would never have done this on a normal day, but the Bouncer had caught him off guard.
-“This is Alex, Dumitru, Constantin and I’m Victor. You?”
-“Err.. Antoine Salesse.”
-“Noroc!” All four cheered, almost forcing him to sit down and giving him a drink.
-“The cat is Maya, but be careful- she’s dangerous! Ha, Ha, Ha!”
On the walls there were pictures of the Beatles on Tour which made him feel safer. The coffee table was unusually low, but the sofas squeezed his behind oh so comfily. He had been walking alone for two hours already and so he appreciated the company.
Maya the cat sat on Antoine’s lap as the men were conspiring with looks and secret signs.
-“You been to London Dungeon?” said Dumitru. “Makes the kids strong for this bad life!”
-“A long time ago. Does it still exist?” And they all laughed. Alex played “Help” by The Beatles on a very old cassette player.
-“We best customers of London Dungeon. Do you have enemies?”
-” Enemies? Why do you ask this? Every successful man has enemies. It’s Life’s Law.” Antoine helped himself to another drink, reminded of the thought of Animal Campaigners who had made him relocate his business elsewhere, almost making him bankrupt and mad.
-“You wearing fox scarf? Nice one!” Victor touched his glasses which meant the other three could proceed to opening business.
-“You want to buy some? We produce three thousand a year!” Antoine suddenly felt very proud, goal driven and very at home in this little derelict flat. The cat was staring as he stroked her.
Dumitru got to the point.
-“We are your friends, Antoine! You tell us what’s the problem, we make one call, fix stinky problem- and then you go party with very young girls! We have our own little private London Dungeon here.” They all looked very serious. “Nobody takes the piss from us. It’s Life’s Law“.
If Antoine would have followed a different path in life, he wouldn’t be mesmerised by their offer. He could only think of Belinda Millson, the top Animal Rights Campaigner from Amsterdam who shamed him on Social Media, took him to Court and almost ruined his health.
Were all those useless foxes really worth the hassle of stressing Antoine Salesse, the French Aristocrate who had won the Paris Cart competition at age ten only, And paid his mother’s Bingo debts to save the family House with the prize?
“Help” by The Beatles played once again.
-“One more whiskey please my friends.”
Victor poured more whiskey into his glass, and then brought a yellow piece of paper.
-“I have only one bitch enemy”. Antoine bit his lips.
-“The good news is if she’s on Facebook, then we take her to London Dungeon. Ha, Ha, Ha!” All four strangers laughed.
Antoine’s mouth watered, but something at the back of his mind was taking him sixteen years back in time -and telling him off badly. Those poor animals. But the whiskey was getting into his system quickly, and Temptation of Revenge was growing as strong as an airplane taking off.
-“Sign here, give us a check and go.” Alex was fatherly.
Antoine signed thinking today was one of those once-in-a-life awesome days people talk about on their deathbeds.
As he pulled his check book out, there was a misunderstanding over the currency. Now these men turned into Foxes. The Foxes his firm had been slaughtering for almost two decades.
But Antoine was now bonded. The paper had disappeared into Constantin’s jacket who had quickly left the flat.
After a struggle, and showing a prowess of matter-of-life-or-death strength he never knew he had, Antoine was running the streets of Soho, pushing passers aside and making cars pull the breaks very loudly. He sheltered himself at a Museum and camouflaged into the queue. What a fool, they hadn’t even been chasing him.
What a fool. What a fool.
-“It’s eleven pounds fifty pence for a single adult” said the blonde, baby-faced cashier.
As Antoine reached his pocket, the National Gallery metamorphosed into the London Dungeon. Because he had left his Wallet, Cheque Book and Boarding Pass at the flat.
-“Are you injured, Sir?” asked the Museum’s Security Guy. “You are leaving blood footprints all over the floor!”
More humor here.
Madhura had been walking for twenty minutes under the rain through the streets of Uxbridge. It was half six AM and the whole world had embraced her new freedom -which could be described as her favourite belongings in a small suitcase, purse and smartphone… and her fully loaded travel card.
No. She was not going to be forced into marriage with Fadil, her father’s favourite driver from the family’s mini-cab business. A decent member of the community.
She had spoken to Betty about her plans to leave the house. “You’ll get in trouble, you’ll end up murdered, you’ll be begging to be let back in and then they’ll treat you like crap” Betty kept warning. But Madhura wasn’t going to take any advice from a spoilt, white girl.[sociallocker][/sociallocker]
The first thing she had to get rid of now was the scar on her hand from when she refused to come down to the living room to meet stinky Fadil, getting marked by the struggle with her father.
She had a little Tattoo book that she had started a year ago and managed to keep hidden inside the mattress. That scar had to be covered- she didn’t want to remember that year. She didn’t want to remember the terror of being “handed” to Fadil.
Now she started to laugh under the rain, even though she was getting soaked- Fadil, my husband? Ha, Ha, Ha! And I was going to get free taxi rides to the Market everyday!
She started to notice people passing by, and for the first time she realised that pedestrians actually have stories inside, stories of captivity and regained freedom- she just wanted to hear each and every one of these!
Madhura didn’t quite know where she was going, maybe to a Restaurant where she could use her cooking skills to start an adult life. She was going to contact Sheila and Betty in a couple of days, once she found a place where to stay.
After getting off a bus ride and wondering through Finchley street, and having been scorned by about four restaurant staff as she asked for a ” cook position”, she noticed a Tattoo and Piercing studio. There were Tattoo designs on the window in every colour possible, skulls, angels and elves. But she had her own Tattoo in mind and on paper.
“Aren’t you popping in young lady? It’s not raining inside!” The Tattooist was ever so cheerful she felt she wanted to let go and let him take charge.
“Sure” she said, shyly.
“Another teenage self harmer! I can fix that!”
“I’m not a self-harmer. And I have my own design to choose from. I want Cobalt Blue”
As she pulled out her precious Tattoo Book, and fearing he might stain it with inky hands, Brad’s eyes became very serious. He went slowly through every design without mumbling a word, until the last page, then he went through it all again.
“What’s your name?”
“My name’s Madhura. I’m looking for a job as a cook.”
“Did you do all these?”
“Well, Madhura, you ain’t gonna chop one more carrot in your whole little life again! This kind of designs are exactly what I have been looking for for the last two years. I’ll pay you three pounds per design and the Copyright is mine. I will teach you the craft. Soon you’ll be tagging punks from all over the world. As for the scar on your hand, darling you’ll make enough money here to get it sorted with surgery. Go leave your bag upstairs, I’ve got a customer coming in at seven. And put some lipstick on please!”
More Humor here.
Lipstick? Sticky, Filthy… Lipstick….?
What was this all… a home? a pre-wedding shelter?…
She got the chills as she walked up the Oak stairs, confused- and missing home in a newly strange way…. when she heard a sweet, sweet, shout… echoing around…
“Me luv, choose from these four sticks… the bosses birthday present, I don’t pretty like lippey myself… either, but we’ve got to keep professional….
Arghhh!!! Those birthday cakes we had still not gone down the gym…. come on girl! Take them all …
STOP! Don’t trip on the last step…. it’s wobbly….”
Baffled, Madhura was at the time enchanted with her new colleague- and blinded by the shiney gifts…. and she was thinking…. when will it be my next birthday?
But she had forgotten her birth date….
Betty was now on her mind and she needed to change her robes quickly and check her phone…. her beeping, beep beep beep, beep beep phone….
“WHAT WAS YOUR NAME AGAIN, ME LUV? ??? MAHENDRA??? THE BOSS ASKED ME TO RUSH FOR KEY COPIES FOR YOUR ROOM WHILE…HEY!!!! YOU GIRL ARE GOING TO GET ME BACK TO MY SIZE 14 AGAIN…”
Madhura… whispered the teen….
But the blonde sweetheart was already fitting her uncomfortable jeans back up, trying to catch her breathe…. and out in the rain she was, with no umbrella!!!
* * *
He was on his break at the local coffee shop, amused by a foreign woman who was complaining to the waiter about not being served Blueberry Syrup in her Lattee. Oh what an accent.
Before heading back to work he checked the rain through the massive window and went to the Toilet. A new Gender Neutral toilet they had built just to make him feel naughty.
As he was waiting she walked in and ignored his smile. A smile that had got him quickly up the social ladder and was even better than any techie gadget that was yet to be invented. Was he losing his appeal?
She stood in silence like a bronze renaissance statue making him feel more and more self conscious.
“After you!” Jeff cried.
She looked surprised.
” Are you a time traveler? Because real gentlemen only exist in the olden days.”
“I am indeed a time traveler, but where I come from I struggle with undoing tight women’s corsets.” He said, surprising himself.
“Watch this” she snapped and smiled. Pulling a lipstick bar out of nowhere she wrote
OUT OF ORDER
on the door, grabbed him by the collar and pulled him inside, just as very bad thunder stroke.
A Kiss. Another Kiss.
“Give me your phone” and she switched it off.[sociallocker][/sociallocker]
” Your watch” and she flushed down rhe loo his 4K collector’s item.
The cabinet was the right size to satisfy both of their repressed instincts, with UV lights taking them to forbidden land on the Baby Changing Table.
“I don’t have…” he hesitated
” Shut up! This bitch is doctored” and pointed at a scar on her belly- button.
She snatched his wedding ring and swallowed it.
He felt taken away by a vicious flood, helpless and grateful and merging into civilisation like he had never known it before.
The Blueberry woman had actually just tied her hair into a ponytail, unlike all the women before her who let their hair loose for interaction.
Jeff Adams, the PR Executive at Tengams & Co was reclaiming a missed out teenagehood.
He had no idea how long this lasted, but as he tied his shoelaces she rushed out, grabbing her Blueberry- less lattee and undoing her hair.
After the shaking event Jeff had to make the building receptionist buzz him in because he couldn’t find his Pass.
He didn’t keep this woman in his heart- he kind of carried her in his pocket everywhere he went, now with eyes wide open to any blowing encouter a sudden weather change could bring.
As for the ring, his wife only noticed it was missing after three months – forcing him to lie like a kiddo about it.
But the second best reward he got from this fling was -his very annoying sciatic pain vanished like Black Magic.
About a year later, on a rainy Tuesday morning, he saw an “out of order ” scribble on his office door.
” Great, I get the day off” he thought, but opened the door anyway…. to see…. the Blueberry Latte Woman sitting on his desk with a baby who was playing with his collector’s watch.
Their eyes met like a fox’s looking into wolf’s on a hungry full moon night.
“These belong to you.” She handed his Pass, ring and… watch! and also the heavy baby. She immediately walked out before he could say anything, leaving the buggy behind.
The medical papers of the kid were carefully filed in a bag inside the buggy, and it only took him a DNA test and a cheeky lawyer to claim his father rights.
He couldn’t believe his “perfect” wife understood and welcomed the baby, as they had been trying for one for over eight years.
Since then, he always checks with the local waitress that they have a full stock of Blueberry Syrup…
Thanks for sharing!
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