Myself and Gerry, we're watching the world trundle on outside the window, watching the sun shred the streets asunder with fierce lashes o' heat the likes of which, so the papers lined neatly 'side the TV assure us, this island has never once seen for as long as folks have bothered to make note o' such things.
The sun, it runs those inquisitive fingers round the necks and legs and foreheads o' a quintet o' twentysomething lassies lain on a grass-verge far side o' the car park directly faces this room. The lassies in question, wearing none but a few wisps o' Clingfilm attire on the most sensitive of areas, they're passing round a bottle of cooking oil, dabbing tiny dollops here and there o'er their already well-tanned forms that the pleasant browns may birth a glorious corn-flake cocoon o' blistered red / black terror.
"Look at that" Gerry mumbles, gesturing to the sunbathers in an odd moment o' coherence. "Sure as fuck I'd be up to the eyes in thon if'n the knackers permitted. Last time the bugger so much as hiccuped I was in a coma for a fortnight."
Following this somewhat disarming proclamation Gerry turns his attentions again to the joins atween the walls, the eyes all shades o' colors none but Gerry will ever taste.
The Minister, he's mouthing something or other about Moses, the left hand trembling on the arm-rest, the right hand similarly a-quiver and held out afore him.
And me, aye, I'm thinking of a conversation took place few nights ago twixt myself and my Beautiful Lady-Friend, the two o' us sat on the edge o' the bed, my head-holes afire wi' mourning for the delirious lust would've surely, for the first time in three years or more, been blessed by the beatific hum o' consummation, been carried t'wards fulfillment on wings o' holiest limb-locked abandon, if'n it hadn't been the victim of a sore barbaric penile mutiny.
"I'm sorry" I'm saying. "Mean, I dunno why. He was ragin' mental 'gainst the loins ten seconds afore we… y'know. Got all naked an' stuff."
She takes hold my hand, aye, and she's saying it's ok, she's saying it's plenty alright. Nothing for to even consider worrying about, that's what it amounts to, the whole situation.
Himself slumped sluggishly o'er the thigh there, dribblin' useless gunk round about like a drunkard lain pukin' his Thursday evening o'er a kerbstone. A fierce grotesque mockery o' the maniacal throb careered 'long the fucker ten minutes hitherto this pitiful, deplorable scene.
A packet o' the jim-bob bindings lain on the floor beside us, ribbed to within an inch o' anything tolerable by mortal hoo-hah, and one o' the articles in particular lain listless and redundant o'er a paperback collection o' John Milton.
Article comments
1 - Gordon Hauptfleisch
You truly wield a mean 'postrophe,Duke, but I'll never quite think of the mantlepiece in quite the same way again.
Another great read--Thanks.
2 - Mark Saleski
once again duke, outstanding stuff.
3 - Mary K. Williams
Gerry and The Minister'I keep thinking..."Jerry (or Gerry) and the Pacemakers"
I think Gerry and the Minister is a right proper title of something. Mark my words Duke! You'll be wanting to use this for something!
Now, to the actual writing.
You do not disapoint dear Duke.
4 - Duke De Mondo
thank you folks! this is a touch longer than i'd expected it to be, but there you go. still, i think i don't dislike it. (i've never heard THOSE words uttered, alas. that'd make for a fine Mind Wax in itself)
mary - i kept thinkin of gerry and the pacemakers too! i was gonna go back and change all the Gerry to Jerry, just to see if it might ease that somewhat. but then, havin Gerry And The Pacemakers flutter front the eyes every so often isn't at all bad.
thanks again, folks.
5 - Mat Brewster
So beautiful my filth-limb wept.
6 - Duke De Mondo
HA! well i hope you wiped up... and thank you, Sir Brewster!
7 - Aaron Fleming
Excellent stuff! I think you're right, keep the bad memories, for they make the good experiences all the better by way of contrast.
8 - Festive Dave
You are insane. hahaha. Now I'll think of you every time I stare at my gangling, flaccid manhood :(
9 - Duke De Mondo
Festive Dave! Saint's preserve us. wonderful to see you here, and i think it's only fair you should think of me in those circumstances, since i surely think of you every time the tweeds shuffle.
and sir fleming, thank you, and apologies for missing your comment. how in hells name did that happen?
10 - Sir Rodney Dinkle- my Delight.
I fear you have become a caricature of your own overstressed rhetoric, which delights itself in saying very little at all. All in all a fine display of vocal masturbation spun with the integrity of a child molestor’s charm. The cretins will think this a harsh review. Well I say it’s not in so much as it lacks detail, but thank fuck, finally someone tells a man what must be said! Indeed that’s what I say on the matter and I say no more.
p.s. I’m pathetic in so much as ill be back. Perhaps even with a tale of my own.
11 - Duke De Mondo
Sir Rodney Dinkle, you, sir, have voiced what i myself have been thinking for much of the past whiles. and hurrah that you've given such thoughts such marvellous words to play with. thank you, but i dunno that i delight in sayin very little at all. i try of times to say something. it's with none much delight whatsoever that i find an altogether savage emptiness remaining therein of occasion.
surely you couldn't have said it at a better time! thanks, man.
12 - sir Rodney Dinkle- my Delight.
I must retract my bitter scorn, for I meant no malice and I suspect I have portrayed much. I truly do admire your work and dedication; it is a triumph I lack considerably. A shit day makes me project my own self-loathing onto undeserving others. My review has credit in so much as it reflects the truly shameful nature of its author, nothing more. Forgive me, and do keep writing, your work is clearly a deserving joy to many.
13 - a distant void
I suggest you, tighthen up your expression, condense your images and refine your narrative into a more fluent and digestable form. At time your articles can be more exhausting to read rather than enjoyable, which is a shame because they harness huge potential. I insist you keep the lyrical tone that pervades your work, but try not to let it, distract away from the precision of the point or emotion your trying to convey " it’s a simple matter of subtlelty more than anything. And most importantly use your often brilliant metaphors more sparingly, build up to them with suspense and excitement, so they suprise the reader with original perspective, as opposed to being exhaustively distracting in nearly every sentence. All this will inevitably, i think, make you writing more striking and memorable to the reader as opposed to making them feel with a current of rhetoric compossed, aye, i say of o's and ar's not dissimilar, or very much alike of those, perhaps cast by many, or if not many then one, squibbling sailor upon the spendiforous retreat of unspoilt and afreshly discovered ancient shores, Alas! Or if you will " overwhelmed!