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Friday, 11 October 2013

New Toilet Story snippet

A brief update on the migraine side - I am currently pain-free, and cautiously optimistic that it may stay that way for a bit. The Botox appears to have kicked in. Not this is not migraine-free - I still have aura, and I doubt that will go anytime soon. I can live with that quite happily has long as I can function. There will hopefully be a reduction in actual pain and severity of the pain when those break through - paralysed muscle or not, nerves that swell up to 300 times their regular size are logically going to play the funky chicken with me on occasion - so I'm crossing my fingers and hoping.

Here's another excerpt on the toilet saga. The usual warnings apply - this is a first draft; things may change - but in the meantime, have a bit of a giggle with me.

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Thursday. 06:48
Tabs opened the bathroom door and was rewarded with an indignant howl.
"Jason! It's for you."

He groaned and trudged down the passage. "Again?" He whispered incredulously.

"Be nice." Tabs rapped him on the forehead affectionately as she passed him. "The poor thing went all out for you today."
Jason hauled out the toilet roll and selected Wild Lavender from the air freshener row. "I couldn't get the mermaid grow a crush on me?"   
He opened the door and blinked rapidly at the elderly chupacabra perched on the pot. 
"Mavis," he said. "You look adorable. Are those new pearls?"
She was wearing a wig. It was shocking pink and was styled high enough to brush the light fitting. Jason watched it brush against the hot bulb and start to drip strands of melted nylon down its prodigious length.
Sharp little white teeth simpered under a muzzle never designed to showcase ruby red lipstick.  A pair of large, rheumy eyes fluttered false eye-lashes at him. The aqua glitter eye-shadow winked and sparkled.

"Y'all have a good day now, Mavis." Jason said, handing his gifts over and closing the door.
The bouffant hair bobbed precariously as a little paw waved goodbye. The claws were painted in a shade that matched the wig.
Flush. Spray. Whistle.  

Jason shook his head and headed for the coffee and his giggling wife. At least this time she hadn't tried to give him a live goat, although the last three were safely corralled out back, where they made excellent organic lawnmowers and supplied pretty good milk. Still, another one would have had the neighbours kicking up a fuss for sure.