Relating this development to Sir Fleming, he's squinting and raising the chin my direction.
"Well, true, she needed her sleep" I'm saying. "But two and a quarter minutes wasn't gon' make a terrible lot of a difference."
Turned out even one and a quarter was pushing it. Mean, three and a bit years, for the love o' God.
I'm looking at Gerry there, and at The Minister, and I'm listening to the sounds of hunger being staved off a whiles longer by the meals lain out o'er the dining room tables, I'm listening and looking and what I'm thinking is three and a half years or thereabouts, aye, but tell me now, how long since Gerry or The Minister or any o' these folks done found themselves in that magnificent mesh o' mucus and gametes and pantin' and pushin'?
Neither Gerry nor The Minister wear a wedding ring, but neither do they wear shoes 87% of the time, yet I'm fairly sure they wore them plenty afore they came here.
It's all the reasonable in the world to assume both are widowed, like Johnny Cash when he was laying down a rendition of Hank Williams' "On The Evening Train" by way of waving a gnarled hand at the carriage done swallowed his soulmate on that red-raw mid-May morn.
How many folks have Gerry and The Minister helped onboard that self-same steamer, waving misty-lipped as it trundles on t'wards those celestial shores, how many folks leaned out those windows waving hankies and hollering about "We'll always have Paris" and if not Paris at least the bedsit 'side the cinema or the corner o' the kitchen where God himself was spied tottering around the thrusts o' a glorious grind?
No doubt Gerry and The Minister've seen manys a hoo-hah or, who knows, maybe even a rogue willy in their time, manys a fine filth they've spun from the threads o' loves altogether far too intense for to be totally numbed by the chippin' and choppin' o' senility.
Probably they remember very little most o' the time, except when the brains get all Goddard with the narrative and start flinging the C and D in the middle of the X Y Z unfolding here and now. There and then they raise the eyes t'wards the ceiling and they call on Margaret or Susan or Michael or Phil, they call and then a nurse says all about how "You ok there, pet?" and they'll pause afore nodding the head and sighing. They're ok.
Few hours afore yon filth-limb debacle, myself and Beautiful Ms Gillian were watching The Notebook, being in the mood for a soppy ol' gangle might get the soul all a-quiverin' and the eyes all a-splurgin'.
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 â€" 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 â€" overwhelmed!