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Authors: Stan Arnold
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- they tasted
like…’ He paused and screwed up his face. ‘…like fruit or somethin’!’
‘You stay
propped up in bed, and I’ll get it ready.’
It was true
Aubrey was abrupt and appeared ungrateful. But she knew that mutton vindaloo
with chana bhuna side extras was his favourite meal. She also knew that, if
anything went wrong tomorrow, it would not just be his favourite meal, it would be his last meal.
The
microwave microwaved merrily. The meal was delivered and demolished in record
time.
Aubrey lay
back and belched.
‘Bleeding’
great, darlin’.’
She looked
down with some satisfaction and a little concern on her face. The thing was,
she hadn't told Aubrey anything about her plans for tomorrow. She wisely
decided to wait until the morning to reveal they would be visiting Charlie
Sumkins. This was much better than telling him now, and having to deal with,
what she feared would be, mutton vindaloo-chana bhuna projectile vomiting on a grand
scale.
Chapter 14
Next
morning, Aubrey reacted badly to the news.
He clutched
his throat and gave a stifled scream. Then he gave an un-stifled scream, which
nearly burst Mrs Hathaway’s eardrums. He staggered back from the breakfast
table and ran out of the kitchen into the living room-gymnasium where he
continued to bounce uncontrollably off the furniture and equipment like a
foul-mouthed ping-pong ball that has just been fired from a howitzer.
‘I ain’t
goin’. I ain’t fuckin’ goin’. No way, Ho-say - whoever the fuck he is. I’m a
fuckin’ goner. I’ve ‘ad it. ‘E’s ‘omicidal. ‘E’ll make fucking mincemeat out of
me - an’ you. I’m fuckin’ toast, I tell you. Fuckin’ toast. He’ll make fuckin’
mincemeat outta my balls and have ‘em on toast.’
Mrs
Hathaway stood quietly watching this extraordinary performance from the door of
the kitchen. She assumed, quite wrongly, that Aubrey’s culinary references were
down to the fact that he hadn’t eaten any breakfast. And it was such a good
breakfast too - scrambled egg and steak - just like the astronauts have before
they go on their missions. Although she assumed, quite rightly, that what she
had to do this morning was going to be a lot more dangerous than whizzing round
the earth and having to cope with unimaginable toilet facilities.
Mrs
Hathaway decided to call a halt to Aubrey’s antics when he tried to unzip her
punch bag and get inside. Entering this perceived refuge had proved more
difficult than he imagined. When she reached him, Aubrey was hanging upside
down with one foot in the bag and the other waving helplessly in mid-air. She
started to wonder whether the vindaloo-chana bhuna projectile vomit option
would have been a lot easier.
With the
help of a rather benign Kyusho pressure
point on Aubrey’s neck, she calmed him, helped him up to the kitchen table, and,
after cutting his steak into little pieces, managed to get him to eat up all
his breakfast.
It occurred to her the
pressure point might not have been too benign,
as Aubrey seemed to have forgotten everything about his panic attack, including
the impending appointment with Charlie. She decided to leave it that way.
*
At 10 minutes to 10
o’clock, the cab pulled up outside Charlie’s office building. As he had been
throughout the journey, Aubrey was staring out of the window, happy and silent.
This was not good,
thought Mrs Hathaway as she paid the fare. Aubrey didn't even show signs of
recognising the building where he must have been many times before.
At five to 10, they
were in the corridor, close to Charlie’s door. There was no reception. People
just went straight in, and from what Aubrey had said, sometimes, if they were
lucky, they came out again.
She bent down and
looked into Aubrey’s battered eyes.
‘Aubrey?’
‘Yes?’ he said
vaguely.
She had to act. More
Kyusho, but this time from Manual Two. She pinching the back of Aubrey’s neck
and placed her hand on his forehead. Then after three
like…’ He paused and screwed up his face. ‘…like fruit or somethin’!’
‘You stay
propped up in bed, and I’ll get it ready.’
It was true
Aubrey was abrupt and appeared ungrateful. But she knew that mutton vindaloo
with chana bhuna side extras was his favourite meal. She also knew that, if
anything went wrong tomorrow, it would not just be his favourite meal, it would be his last meal.
The
microwave microwaved merrily. The meal was delivered and demolished in record
time.
Aubrey lay
back and belched.
‘Bleeding’
great, darlin’.’
She looked
down with some satisfaction and a little concern on her face. The thing was,
she hadn't told Aubrey anything about her plans for tomorrow. She wisely
decided to wait until the morning to reveal they would be visiting Charlie
Sumkins. This was much better than telling him now, and having to deal with,
what she feared would be, mutton vindaloo-chana bhuna projectile vomiting on a grand
scale.
Chapter 14
Next
morning, Aubrey reacted badly to the news.
He clutched
his throat and gave a stifled scream. Then he gave an un-stifled scream, which
nearly burst Mrs Hathaway’s eardrums. He staggered back from the breakfast
table and ran out of the kitchen into the living room-gymnasium where he
continued to bounce uncontrollably off the furniture and equipment like a
foul-mouthed ping-pong ball that has just been fired from a howitzer.
‘I ain’t
goin’. I ain’t fuckin’ goin’. No way, Ho-say - whoever the fuck he is. I’m a
fuckin’ goner. I’ve ‘ad it. ‘E’s ‘omicidal. ‘E’ll make fucking mincemeat out of
me - an’ you. I’m fuckin’ toast, I tell you. Fuckin’ toast. He’ll make fuckin’
mincemeat outta my balls and have ‘em on toast.’
Mrs
Hathaway stood quietly watching this extraordinary performance from the door of
the kitchen. She assumed, quite wrongly, that Aubrey’s culinary references were
down to the fact that he hadn’t eaten any breakfast. And it was such a good
breakfast too - scrambled egg and steak - just like the astronauts have before
they go on their missions. Although she assumed, quite rightly, that what she
had to do this morning was going to be a lot more dangerous than whizzing round
the earth and having to cope with unimaginable toilet facilities.
Mrs
Hathaway decided to call a halt to Aubrey’s antics when he tried to unzip her
punch bag and get inside. Entering this perceived refuge had proved more
difficult than he imagined. When she reached him, Aubrey was hanging upside
down with one foot in the bag and the other waving helplessly in mid-air. She
started to wonder whether the vindaloo-chana bhuna projectile vomit option
would have been a lot easier.
With the
help of a rather benign Kyusho pressure
point on Aubrey’s neck, she calmed him, helped him up to the kitchen table, and,
after cutting his steak into little pieces, managed to get him to eat up all
his breakfast.
It occurred to her the
pressure point might not have been too benign,
as Aubrey seemed to have forgotten everything about his panic attack, including
the impending appointment with Charlie. She decided to leave it that way.
*
At 10 minutes to 10
o’clock, the cab pulled up outside Charlie’s office building. As he had been
throughout the journey, Aubrey was staring out of the window, happy and silent.
This was not good,
thought Mrs Hathaway as she paid the fare. Aubrey didn't even show signs of
recognising the building where he must have been many times before.
At five to 10, they
were in the corridor, close to Charlie’s door. There was no reception. People
just went straight in, and from what Aubrey had said, sometimes, if they were
lucky, they came out again.
She bent down and
looked into Aubrey’s battered eyes.
‘Aubrey?’
‘Yes?’ he said
vaguely.
She had to act. More
Kyusho, but this time from Manual Two. She pinching the back of Aubrey’s neck
and placed her hand on his forehead. Then after three
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