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Story to Forget


Rusty Broadspear

The Intro

A planned evening, with drinks in the garden of an olde worlde pub,
By a lake, in the heart of the English countryside.
The sun still has a way to go, the gnats are flying,
The lake is still, yachts gently duck and bob.
The sweet scent of nature
Mingled with the aroma of English real ale.
Aside from the two couples, (as cast),
Maybe a dozen, mostly younger people, shared the patio.

The Cast

The point of the discussion became rather blunted.
Harry and Jack talked 'car disembowelment'.
Sybil and Hester talked of local shops and their decline.
Prior to this, loose plans were laid, to share a winter holiday.
Truth is, Harry couldn't abide Jack's worst half, Hester.
Jack couldn't think of Sybil without a saddle and whip.
Sybil thought Hester's red hair matched her poisonous mind.
Hester thought Sybil's insincerity could be far less blatant.
Harry and Jack were OK mates, since childhood.

The Evening

With tray of drinks balanced on the palm of one hand,
Jack stepped nimbly through the french doors on to the patio.
"Drinks for the Princesses and ale for the court jesters!"
The evening imperceptibly became frivolous with undertones.
By now, Harry and Jack virtually sat at an adjacent table,
Talking of what they remembered of life in the Sixties.
A wet dog, wandered between tables and under chairs,
Looking for scraps or sweet whiffs.
Between Hester and Sybil, the dog shook, as dogs do,
Starting at the head, then snaking all the way down to the tail end.
In shock, Sybils arm, (the arm with a full drink at the end),
Flew involuntary into the air.
Sweet, amber, bubbly fluid leapt from the glass,
As if Sybil had conjured up a mini lake serpent.
The lake serpent made straight for Hester's face,
As if to bite it right off.
As Hester abrubtly stood, her chair crashed into the table behind.
Her right foot stomped down hard on the mutt's tail.
The pub dingo released a howl and headed swiftly for the lake,
On the way, knocking four youngsters to the concrete.
Their raucous fun-filled evening, was now stunned silence.
Harry and Jack laughed 'til their bodies ached,
Containment was not an option.
They reeled to the bar, ordered more ale,
No fancy drinks this time.

Moments later two taxi drivers appeared,
Calling for Jack and Harry.
Jack and Harry, mouths full of ale,
Locked eyes, silently shared the humour of the moment,
Then once again burst into rib aching laughter,
Spraying ale like two aging fountains.
They'd all shared a taxi to the pub,
Now Hester and Sybil had made other arrangements
For the journey home.
"So, where shall we all go this winter?" asked Jack.
"Where ever you like Jack,
But we leave those two behind."

The Moral

There isn't a moral.
Maybe a little could be said about blokeship
And wenchship.
This story, re-enacts throughout the world,
Throughout the years.
Petty, unimportant, trivial..................

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