Divorced and Deadly

I’m learning the ropes so I can achieve fame and fortune; though so far it’s been an uphill struggle.

While I was preparing the books for the accountant, I had a visitor. Imagine my astonishment when I looked up and saw her draped in the doorway, half-naked boobs peeping out like fat puppies from a sack, and her cheap, heady perfume blocking my common sense. ‘SHELLEY! What are you doing here?’ In the midst of chaos, I always managed to find a semblance of authority.

‘I came to see you,’ she purred, stepping closer.

Backing away, I told her in no uncertain terms, ‘Haven’t you women done enough damage? I’ve lost my home and my marriage, and now I’m back with my parents who think I still need my nose wiping. Thanks to you lot, my life’s a mess and there’s no way out.’

She didn’t answer. Neither did she show any remorse, the spiteful cow. Instead, she sauntered right up to me; thrusting her large, fleshy boobs into my chest and wrapping her snake-like arms round my neck. She kissed me full on the lips…right there, tongue out, tonsils quivering, with four kennel-girls and the dog-walkers staring in at the window.

‘GET OFF ME!’ Blushing to the roots of my hair, I shoved her away, masterfully taking hold of her arm to march her out the door.

‘You can throw me out of your office, but you will never be able to push me out of your life,’ she warned. ‘You’re a free man now. You and I belong together, and I won’t let you go, Ben. It’s no use you fighting me.’ With that she blew me a kiss and wiggled away down the lane and out of sight.

‘Clear off! Haven’t you lot got work to do?’ The kennel-girls and dog-walkers were still there, peering in the window and giggling crudely.

‘Cor, just think, Ben…’ That was Poppy with her nose pressed so hard to the window it was covered in a film of snot, ‘…that Shelley is head over heels in love with you. I reckon you could have asked her to turn somersaults and she would have done, right there on the spot.’

‘Huh!’ That was the new boy, Andy. ‘If you ask me, she’s anybody’s!’ He gave one of the idiot grins he’s getting known for. ‘I don’t think it’s you, Ben. I think she just wanted to play, and d’you know what? If I’d been brave enough to give her the nod, I bet you, she’d have been all over me…’

Well, that was it! I just lost my rag, ‘What d’you think this is…a bloody peep-show…GET BACK TO YOUR WORK, THE LOT OF YOU!’

Well, I never…they all shot off in different directions. So! I do have a masterful streak when I make my mind up.

So, maybe from now on they’ll learn to respect me.

Not so! Because that same afternoon, I was preparing to leave, when I had another visitor, unannounced and baying for blood, ‘YOU FILTHY TWO-TIMING NO GOOD BAGGAGE!’

My ex-wife was never more attractive than when fighting mad, ‘Don’t think you and that slut have got one over on me, because you haven’t. She’s been bragging all over the place, about how she means to have you. Well, I’m telling you now, she’s welcome to you…and good luck to the pair of you!’

With that she stormed off with me running after her, ‘What the hell business is it of yours anyway?’ I didn’t care that the kennel-girls were staring at us, ‘You were the one who asked for a divorce and never mind that I didn’t want it. So don’t come here with your high-faluting values, telling me what I can and can’t do. I shall do what I damn well like, and with whoever I please! And if you don’t like it, then tough tittie!’

I swear I didn’t see it coming. She swung round, grabbed the hose from young Danny’s hand and turned it on me. There was a great whoosh, a blinding curtain of freezing cold rain, and my whole body was soaked to the skin. She then flung the hose back to Danny who ran about like a lunatic, trying to catch it, as it leaped up and down swilling everybody in sight.

The girls were laughing and screaming, and poor Danny came off worse when with a look of triumph he deliberately trod on the hose, which then forced itself up his trouser leg and gave him the biggest surprise of his life.

Humiliated and dripping, and wishing I was a million miles away, I watched Laura storm off with a sinister warning, ‘I know she was here, Ben Buskin. And I’ll be watching you!’

Like one of the half-dead creatures from Michael Jackson’s Thriller, I hobbled after her, ‘How did you know she was here…are you spying on me?’

‘Yes! Same as you’re spying on me. Do you think I haven’t seen you hiding in the shrubs to see what I’m up to…DAMN PERVERT!’ She screamed.

With the weight of my wet trousers pulling me down I sulked back to the office, where I slammed about like a sulky kid who’s lost the fight.

‘Here…let me help.’ Poppy had seen it all, and as always she was there to pick up the pieces. Before I could stop her, she’d stripped off my trousers (taking far too long if you ask me). Then she wrapped a fluffy dogblanket round my nether regions and was about to rub my chest with a flannel, when I thanked her kindly and sent her away…I mean, I’ve already got more trouble than I can handle.

But all in all, it was a day to remember.

What puzzles me is this…why would my ex-wife get herself in such a state when she’s already divorced me?

Maybe she still loves me.

Well, well. Whoever would have thought it?

Mind you, tomorrow could tell another tale.

BEDFORD OCTOBER, FRIDAY (#ulink_4a25d703-2f56-5d80-89c6-359583dddb09)

‘Ben!’ Mum’s voice screamed up the stairs, ‘Ben, it’s time for work.’

‘Go away.’ Covering my head with the sheet I did my best to ignore her.

‘Ben!’ Ignore her.

‘Ben, are you awake?’ Double ignore her.

‘BEN…it’s half past eight, you’ll miss your bus!’ Dammit!

‘ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT! I’M ONTO IT!’ I yelled.

There was a long pause. I knew instinctively she was at the bottom of the stairs, coiled and hissing, ready for the kill.

With a groan I leaned out of bed, fished my shoe out from under the chair and banged it three times on the floor. That usually got me another ten minutes.

God, am I tired. Thank heavens it’s Friday. It’s my Saturday off this week, and I’m brimming with ideas. I plan to trawl the clubs and pubs and find a woman who will take care of me.

I am not going to go to the cinema with Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants. He must think I’m stupid. Why would anyone in their right mind want to go to the cinema with a saddo like that?

My weekend plans were interrupted by hideous yelling. ‘BEN! IF YOU ARE NOT OUT OF THAT BED AND DOWN HERE IN FIVE MINUTES FLAT, I SWEAR I’LL COME UP AND DRAG YOU OUT!’

She won’t. She’s said that before. What’s more, my clock said quarter to eight…she’d played that trick on me before. Let her shout and rave, I knew I was good for at least another five minutes yet.

I heard on the grapevine that Shelley has been putting it about to anyone who’ll listen, that me and her are an item. Brazen-faced liar! I can see I’ll have to pay her a call and put her in her place once and for all. If she thinks she can play me along and sort my life out without my permission, she’s got another thing coming!

‘I KNEW IT!’ The door was flung open and there she was…my mother in full war paint. ‘Your father’s gone to get a haircut, and I’m off shopping with Winnie Arriss…if you don’t mind I would like to get to the shops before they close.’ With a swoop she was on me…Grabbing the bedclothes, she flung them back with no thought whatsoever for my bared manhood, not to mention my red face.

‘OUT!’ God she was a frightening sight; standing there arms folded, face like a bulldog and frothing at the mouth.

Covering my modesty, I gave her one of my fiercest stares, ‘I don’t know what all the fuss is about.’

Casting her gaze down, she snorted, ‘Neither do I.’

‘Look! It’s not even eight o’clock!’ I pointed at my bedside clock, ‘See?’

Grabbing the clock she gave it a shake and threw it at me, just missing my head. ‘You forgot to wind it up again. How many times have I told you, being as it was your Grandma’s…Lord rest her soul…it needs winding up every day…’ As she went out the room, she added snidely, ‘That clock and you belong together. Grown lazy with age, the pair of you.’

It took me ten minutes to finish in the bathroom, though when I came out I looked like a refugee from a war zone. I had patches of blood and sticky paper all over my face and my hair stood up like it had been through a wind tunnel. ‘It’s your fault,’ I sulked as I came into the kitchen where my mother was waiting with another packed lunch.

‘You’ve got no time for breakfast now,’ she said lovingly. (One minute she’s going crazy, and the next she’s sweet as apple pie. I’m sure she’s an alien.)