Read Online Drive Me Crazy by Portia MacIntosh - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Portia MacIntosh
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Saturday evening when the cleaner found him – and the toilet he’d blocked with his vomit.’
‘Nice.’ New guy nods, almost impressed by Karl’s antics. ‘What was his second strike?’
‘That took place in this very room last Halloween – we had a costume party,’ I explain, widening my eyes, pre-empting his disbelief.
‘This lot in fancy dress?’ He laughs. ‘It’s mostly middle-aged women and old truckers.’
‘Yes, a superhero costume party,’ I continue, and he finds this even funnier.
‘Who were you?’ he asks, quick as a flash.
‘I was – of course – Wonder Woman,’ I tell him, modestly.
‘This I need to see pictures of!’ New guy looks visibly surprised as he says this. ‘I’ve never seen you in anything but your office Stepford get-up. I bet you were a hit with the fellas.’
I flash the new guy an unimpressed side glance.
The truth is that my outfit was actually a big hit with the drivers, who were also only used to seeing me in my office attire – although back then it wasn’t quite as Stepford as it is now. With my big, brunette curled wig, my boobs pushed up underneath my chin and the red thigh-high boots I had to visit a sex shop specifically just to find, I actually felt like I looked pretty cool. Will didn’t agree, and he took me to one side to tell me as much. He thought that it was far too revealing, and not really me. I remember the exact words he used: ‘not right for my body’. I glanced over at Stephanie in her red-belted mac and her red fedora, that he was obviously fine for her to leave the house in. I had accidentally whipped Will with my lasso of truth, and that’s when I realised he didn’t want a thigh-flashing Wonder Woman with her cleavage on show, he wanted Carmen Sandiego, in her figure-hiding clothes and with her educational agenda. That’s when I realised I needed a Wonder Woman makeover circa 1950s, when they took away her whip to get rid of any bondage overtones, and made her more traditional and Christian. I’d already been watching my mouth and behaviour, but that’s when I stated dressing more appropriately.
‘Karl came dressed as Mr Incredible and at some point in the evening, the Flash decided to tell him a superhero-themed joke.’
‘Dare I ask what the joke was?’
‘I believe it was something along the lines of: “What’s the difference between Batman and a Scouser?”’
New guy widens his eyes.
‘I know the one.’
‘Well Karl didn’t, and when he heard the punchline…he got a bit punchy himself. He launched at The Flash, the two of them crashed through the buffet table and they had to be pulled apart. If you look over at the table, you can see where the leg was repaired. The best part of the tale is that no one actually knows who The Flash was. So not only did he not get into trouble, but Karl doesn’t feel like he properly avenged Liverpool. He swears he’ll find out who it was, one day.’
As I realise how quickly I’m getting through my drink, I puff air out of my cheeks and I examine my glass.
‘Gosh, what is this?’ I ask. ‘It’s…powerful.’
‘Just a little something I picked up while travelling Europe. Balkan vodka – there are thirteen health warnings on the bottle,’ he announces proudly. ‘I was in Serbia and there was this rugby team from Yorkshire on a stag party. One of them thought he could knock back neat shots. You should’ve seen the paramedics trying to get him onto the stretcher. You don’t drive, right? Probably don’t drive today.’
‘I don’t drive,’ I assure him. ‘Do you?’
‘Yes, but not today, babe.’ He laughs. ‘Maybe not tomorrow if you come back to mine after work and have a drink with me.’
We are interrupted by a loud, exaggerated cough. For a moment, Will just hovers near our table, staring at us, before walking over to grab a glass of orange juice and taking his position in the centre of the room to make a speech.
‘Think the boss thinks we’re up
‘Nice.’ New guy nods, almost impressed by Karl’s antics. ‘What was his second strike?’
‘That took place in this very room last Halloween – we had a costume party,’ I explain, widening my eyes, pre-empting his disbelief.
‘This lot in fancy dress?’ He laughs. ‘It’s mostly middle-aged women and old truckers.’
‘Yes, a superhero costume party,’ I continue, and he finds this even funnier.
‘Who were you?’ he asks, quick as a flash.
‘I was – of course – Wonder Woman,’ I tell him, modestly.
‘This I need to see pictures of!’ New guy looks visibly surprised as he says this. ‘I’ve never seen you in anything but your office Stepford get-up. I bet you were a hit with the fellas.’
I flash the new guy an unimpressed side glance.
The truth is that my outfit was actually a big hit with the drivers, who were also only used to seeing me in my office attire – although back then it wasn’t quite as Stepford as it is now. With my big, brunette curled wig, my boobs pushed up underneath my chin and the red thigh-high boots I had to visit a sex shop specifically just to find, I actually felt like I looked pretty cool. Will didn’t agree, and he took me to one side to tell me as much. He thought that it was far too revealing, and not really me. I remember the exact words he used: ‘not right for my body’. I glanced over at Stephanie in her red-belted mac and her red fedora, that he was obviously fine for her to leave the house in. I had accidentally whipped Will with my lasso of truth, and that’s when I realised he didn’t want a thigh-flashing Wonder Woman with her cleavage on show, he wanted Carmen Sandiego, in her figure-hiding clothes and with her educational agenda. That’s when I realised I needed a Wonder Woman makeover circa 1950s, when they took away her whip to get rid of any bondage overtones, and made her more traditional and Christian. I’d already been watching my mouth and behaviour, but that’s when I stated dressing more appropriately.
‘Karl came dressed as Mr Incredible and at some point in the evening, the Flash decided to tell him a superhero-themed joke.’
‘Dare I ask what the joke was?’
‘I believe it was something along the lines of: “What’s the difference between Batman and a Scouser?”’
New guy widens his eyes.
‘I know the one.’
‘Well Karl didn’t, and when he heard the punchline…he got a bit punchy himself. He launched at The Flash, the two of them crashed through the buffet table and they had to be pulled apart. If you look over at the table, you can see where the leg was repaired. The best part of the tale is that no one actually knows who The Flash was. So not only did he not get into trouble, but Karl doesn’t feel like he properly avenged Liverpool. He swears he’ll find out who it was, one day.’
As I realise how quickly I’m getting through my drink, I puff air out of my cheeks and I examine my glass.
‘Gosh, what is this?’ I ask. ‘It’s…powerful.’
‘Just a little something I picked up while travelling Europe. Balkan vodka – there are thirteen health warnings on the bottle,’ he announces proudly. ‘I was in Serbia and there was this rugby team from Yorkshire on a stag party. One of them thought he could knock back neat shots. You should’ve seen the paramedics trying to get him onto the stretcher. You don’t drive, right? Probably don’t drive today.’
‘I don’t drive,’ I assure him. ‘Do you?’
‘Yes, but not today, babe.’ He laughs. ‘Maybe not tomorrow if you come back to mine after work and have a drink with me.’
We are interrupted by a loud, exaggerated cough. For a moment, Will just hovers near our table, staring at us, before walking over to grab a glass of orange juice and taking his position in the centre of the room to make a speech.
‘Think the boss thinks we’re up
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