4
EGGS ANYONE?
Felicity had always been aware of the concept of tit for tat. Unfortunately, she had limited tit and therefore the last time she got tat was a very, very long time ago. To make matters worse she was ginger, which alone is salvageable, but coupled with the life sentence of fried eggs, would be enough to drive her insane if it wasn’t for the magical words ‘boob-job’. November the fifth was the day that her crappy little bee stings would become fully-fledged unadulterated fun fat, mounds of happiness, thrusting themselves into the room before her. Never again would she be dismissed as the geeky librarian whom people presumed would much rather read ‘War and Peace’ than shag like a rabbit. This was categorically untrue. Felicity, in fact, had a rabbit, of the rampant variety, and if that was what a rabbit could do then she was more than happy to get down and dirty in the warren.
“Watership Down’… do you have ‘Watership Down’?’ a tiny framed lady of about ninety asked.
Felicity giggled at the irony but stopped suddenly with the realization that this little old lady could be getting more sex than she was. Disgusted at herself for visualizing the thrusting of her wrinkly frame, she pointed the lady in the right direction and quickly looked away.
It was Saturday morning. This was good for two reasons: Firstly, because the library closed at one and secondly, and more importantly, because Saturday was the day that she got to see the love of her life. His name was Sean Murbank. Sean was a big, bulging hunk of meat. Prime, solid animal muscle covered by a thin layer of silky chocolate skin. Sean hadn’t been blessed with a variety of organs, where there should have been brain cells there was a fatty like liquid, where there should have been a heart there was fluff and where there should have been a small sausage there was a fantastically formed donger hanging like a genetically modified German salami between his bulging legs. Unfortunately for Sean, he was rarely able to use his manly miracle. It was like swimming with sharks; an exciting concept in theory but when it came to the crunch, girls were just too darn scared of getting ripped to shreds to even jump into the water.
Sean was not the brightest of lights. Having been distracted as a teenager, he had left school with no qualifications and only a basic understanding of how to read and write. He had possessed no interest in education at all and had wanted to concentrate solely on a career in fitness. He was a muscular man and this was his only goal. With the inability to read and write adequately, however, he had soon found that he had limited options. So he had been working at the local gym as a cleaner for the past five years. A year ago, he had decided that enough was enough and that he had to learn to read and write properly. So, with limited funds, he had joined the local library, much to the delight of Felicity who was always keen to swipe his card and give him a stamp or two.
To begin with it took him a whole month to get through the first book but now he was like a bookworm on speed, getting two books out a week and reading them cover-to-cover. His reading had come on so much that the gym had signed him up for a personal training course.
Now his career was on its way up, all he needed was his man truncheon to be on its way up as well. There were two problems with this: The first being that no amount of mood lighting was going to disguise the fact that Sean’s Tour d’Eiffel was an overwhelming sight to anyone with an average sized cavern de femme and nobody likes a bucket. The second being that, despite a distinct lack of holes to rummage in, Sean was picky. Not for the sake of being picky, but for the sake of not compromising his beauty. He was pedigree and pedigree needed pedigree, otherwise he would be just another mongrel. But the famine was beginning to get to him and he was determined to find some relief.
Of course Felicity had never really spoken to him properly and knew none of these details but she knew his name from the card.
She had just sent Jessica, who worked with her on a Saturday, to sort the shelves. Felicity would be at the reception for the morning, or at least until Sean had been. Eager to look her best, she adjusted her chicken fillets, before leaning under the desk to get her lip-gloss, banging her head violently on the way back up.
‘Shit!’ she cursed, cupping her head in her hands.
Blood was beginning to spit out, dripping first onto her brow, then down onto her inconveniently white top.
‘Shit, shit, shit, shit,’ she mumbled, looking up to come face to face with Sean. ‘Shit,’ she repeated, giving him an embarrassed smile as blood dripped down into her eye.
‘You alright, girl?’ Sean asked, trying to hold back the laughter.
‘Mmm hmm,’ she lied, not knowing whether to try and wipe it up or to continue as if nothing had happened.
‘Think you need a tissue, here.’
‘Uh…yeah. Thanks. Sorry. Thanks,’ she muttered mortified, as he handed her a pack of tissues.
She took one out and pressed it to her forehead.
‘Thanks,’ she said, trying to hand them back.
‘Keep ‘em,’ he replied, ‘looks like you need them more than I do.’
‘Thanks. I’ll just scan these back in for you,’ she said, avoiding eye contact.
‘It’s a good look. Suits you,’ Sean joked unsuccessfully, as Felicity handed back his card. ‘See you later then,’ he said, disappearing between the bookshelves.
‘You idiot! You fucking moron!’ Felicity muttered to herself, the blood now beginning to dry. ‘Jessica!’ she shouted, ‘I need you to cover. Can you cover?’
‘In a minute,’ Jessica replied relaxed.
‘No, now!’ she squawked, running towards the toilet, tears streaming down her face.
By the time Felicity returned to the desk, it was ten-to-one and ten minutes before Felicity could close for the day. She had cleaned up her head but dried blood still formed an unattractive rim of congealed gunk around a long cut and there was now a dirty wet patch on her top. The day couldn’t have been any worse. It was better when Sean didn’t know that she existed. Now he knew who she was but she looked like a knob; a flat-chested, bloody headed, ginger knob.
‘Just these ones, please,’ Derek said, as he handed her the ‘Guinness Book of Records’, ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and an array of thrillers.
‘Card please,’ Felicity replied, not in the mood.
‘What did you do to yourself?’ he asked, alarmed as he noticed her cut.
‘None of your fucking business,’ she snapped, passing him his books back.
‘Right, yeah, sorry…um…sorry,’ Derek muttered mortified, as he hurried to leave. So quickly, in fact, that he forgot to pick up his card.
‘Derek! Mr Stone!’
But it was too late. He had gone.
‘Fucking great! Fucking, fucking, fucking great!’ Felicity mumbled to herself, whilst turning off the phone and computer for the day.
‘Jessica can you lock up, I need to get home and sort this fucking head out!’
‘Yep,’ Jessica replied from somewhere between camping and collage. ‘Go home!’
‘Thanks, Jess, you’re a legend. See you next week.’
Felicity was not actually going to go home, she was instead going to go to the pub. She needed a drink and nobody had better stand in the way of her getting one.
It was ten-past-one and Derek had recently left the library, having been brutally rebuffed by the captivating girl behind the desk with the dent in her head. Usually at this time on a Saturday he would go home and spank the bald man before tucking into his newly borrowed books. He liked to submerge himself in a world of literature, desperate to jump into a life that wasn’t his. Today was different, however. Derek couldn’t bring himself to go home, to be on his own. He was sick of it. Sick of being dismissed by the world, sick of not mattering and sick of letting his life pass in front of him. Unfortunately for him, this was all he had ever done and he had no idea how to change it. So he was left pacing the streets, nowhere to go, no one to see, just him and thirty-two years of pent up anger.
‘Derek? Derek!’ he heard as he co
ntinued walking, looking around for the source. ‘Mr Stone! Over here!’
He turned to see the delicate redhead from the library. Derek was baffled as he looked around himself for another Derek Stone, looking to the redhead for clues.
‘Yeah, you! Come over here!’ she shouted from a bench outside the ‘Black Bull’.
Confused and growing ever excited, Derek tentatively made his way over, still slightly worried that he would be shouted at again but sympathetic to the fact that this was a natural reaction from a ginger.
‘Hi,’ he said, tripping on the pavement, too scared to get any closer.
‘Hey, listen I just wanted to say sorry for being a complete and utter red-panty-day bitch earlier. I’m a whore and I deserve to be sent to hell. Can I get you a drink to make up for it?’
‘You’re not a whore!’ Derek burst, realizing only after that this was perhaps not the best part of the sentence to cling too.
Felicity giggled, sucking softly on her straw, her pink lips juicy and succulent.
‘So can I get you that drink?’ she repeated.
Derek was cautious. He had never been asked to join anyone before, other than at the work ‘dos’ at the council. At which he would stand in the corner, sip wine through a straw and eat half the buffet. Then he would get stuck talking to his line manager because he had seen Derek standing on his own, pressed against the wall like mould and felt sorry for him.
‘Go on, I could do with the company,’ Felicity did her best to persuade, aware of the discomfort that she was causing him. ‘I won’t bite I promise,’ she teased, poking her tongue out slightly as she grinned.
‘Glass of white wine would be lovely,’ Derek braved.
‘Good choice, I’ll get on the vino as well then. Take a pew, I’ll be back!’ Felicity bantered in her finest Schwarzenegger accent, before squeezing her way around the smokers at the door.
As she walked, Derek noticed her bottom wiggling like a prize-winning-pet, her long red hair bounding down her slim frame. Mesmerized, he stood watching the empty gap in the door before parking himself down on the bench and adjusting his trousers awkwardly in an attempt to make himself look more presentable. He shouldn’t have bothered, no amount of adjusting could justify tucking a yellow polo shirt into his beige trousers and he suddenly knew it. But at that moment in time it didn’t matter. Derek just took a deep breath and smiled at the realization that he was sat in the sunshine on a Saturday afternoon with a beautiful girl, instead of being stuck at home all on his own.
‘Uno vino, Monsieur,’ a returned Felicity said, handing him a large glass. ‘I didn’t know if you smoked, but I got some anyway. I don’t usually smoke anymore but I’ve had a shit day and I don’t see how lung cancer is gonna make much of a difference considering I’ve had brain damage and a broken heart today already! Do you want one?’ she offered, ripping the outer packaging off and pointing it in his face.
‘Uh, no thanks, I don’t smoke,’ Derek replied, wishing that he did.
‘Wise decision,’ she said, immediately sparking up and puffing on it like a cure for cancer. ‘So it’s Derek, isn’t it? Or do you want me to call you Mr Stone?’
‘Derek’s fine,’ he laughed awkwardly.
‘Good to meet you, Derek, I’m Felicity,’ she grinned, as she thrust her hand at his chest.
Derek shook her hand tentatively and inhaled before braving the question that had nearly cost him his life earlier
‘Is your head okay? What did you do?’
‘I’m not gonna shout this time, honest,’ Felicity joked. ‘It’s pretty embarrassing really.’
‘I won’t laugh, I promise,’ Derek reassured sincerely.
‘Right, well, there is this guy who comes into the library every Saturday, right, and he’s beautiful. He’s got massive muscles and every time I see him I get a little bit hot, if you know what I mean, Derek?’
Derek laughed reluctantly, wishing that he was the hot one.
‘Well, anyway, like a fanny I was leaning under the desk to get my lip-gloss…’
‘Did he do this to you?’ Derek burst, standing up. ‘Did he do this to you?’ he repeated, suddenly brimming with anger and alpha male.
‘No!’ Felicity squeaked, gently guiding him back down to his seat. ‘Of course he didn’t. No, I was bending over to get my lip-gloss out of my bag, cause he’d be in soon and I didn’t want him to think that I had shitty, dry lips and I whacked my head on the way up, didn’t I. Anyway as I looked up afterwards he was in my face and laughing at me!’
Derek’s heart sank at the thought of Felicity with another man. He knew he wasn’t good enough for her but he couldn’t help but feel a little bit gutted.
‘So how come you’re not married?’ she asked, looking at his ring-less hand. ‘Girlfriend?’
Derek grimaced as he shook his head, looking down at his lap as if for support, ‘I don’t have much luck with women.’
‘Join the fucking club!’ she retorted. ‘Nobody wants a scrawny ginger with no tits!’
‘I think you’ve got lovely brea…’ Derek stopped himself.
Felicity burst into laughter spitting out her drink as she did, whilst Derek looked bewildered and embarrassed. Felicity was trying desperately to stop laughing but failing to keep the smile off her face.
‘Sorry, Derek, I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just…well, it was just really sweet. Do you really think I’ve got nice tits?’ she said, begging for a compliment.
Thinking carefully before answering, Derek replied, ‘Yes, I think you are very beautiful.’
‘Ah, you are so lovely,’ she cried, bursting with oestrogen. ‘And do you know what, you’re a pretty good-looking guy yourself.’
‘No I’m not,’ Derek retorted like a sulking teenager.
‘Yeah you are,’ she pressed, ‘I think you’re really lovely.’
Derek went silent, the corners of his mouth beginning to rise.
‘Another drink?’ she asked.
‘I’ll get them,’ he announced, feeling as though his balls had finally dropped.
Walking to the bar he felt a sudden burst of pride. It felt good, really, really good.
It was now ten-past-four on the same balmy Saturday afternoon. The table in the beer garden was now covered in a variety of glasses with only the dregs remaining. Felicity was straddling the bench with her green floral skirt hitched that little bit too high for sobriety but perfect for the quest for inebriation that she was working towards. A blue, sugary spirit concoction balanced in one hand whilst the other tried to push a cigarette into Derek’s mouth.
‘Another one!’ Derek harked, with an air of drunken desperation.
‘Just smoke it and shut up,’ Felicity bantered, placing her hand on his leg.
There was silence as she leant over to give him a light. She giggled at the closeness of their breath, whilst her thumb attempted to spark the flame
‘hanks,’ Derek accepted, not having mastered the art of smoking, let alone talking with a cigarette in his mouth.
‘Did we ever get those drinks?’ Felicity asked, confused
‘I’ll get them,’ Derek immediately responded, rising from his seat and sprinting towards the bar.
‘Derek!’ Felicity shouted after him, but it was too late, Derek was already inside.
She needn’t have worried though, as ten seconds later he reappeared again looking sheepish. He sat silently, hanging his cigarette down out of view.
‘Let me guess. Can’t smoke at the bar?’
‘Mmm hmm,’ Derek muttered embarrassed.
Felicity burst out laughing eventually dragging a timid Derek with her.
‘You’re a fanny!’ she chuckled, touching his arm as she did.
‘Thanks,’ Derek replied, taking it as an insult.
‘No it’s a good thing, silly. I like fannies.’
At this point Derek thought all of his Christmases had come at once. Had he not been in such a public place there might have been some rain in
his briefs. Instead he just smiled. She was beautiful, captivating and beautiful. He just wanted to kiss her and feel those ripe, cushioned lips pressed gently to his. He wanted to taste her. He wondered whether it was possible to guess what she had eaten earlier in the day or whether she might taste like her last cocktail and cigarette. Like a newly charged magnet, he stormed at her, opening his mouth around her lips as he pressed himself tightly to her. Unfortunately for Derek, the magnetic charge did not work both ways and he was soon repelled mortified.
‘What are you doing?’ Felicity squawked.
‘Uh… umm… uh…’ Derek stammered clutching his balls for support. ‘I….uh…I’m sorry,’ he panicked, running off.
‘Derek!’ Felicity attempted, trying to chase after him.
But he was gone.
‘Shit!’ Felicity blasted. ‘Nice work as usual,’ she thought, sitting back down. Before wiping her mouth, downing her drink and sparking up another fag.
She liked Derek, he was a good guy, so why did he have to go and do that?
5
LUMPY SHOWERS
It was evening now on that same Saturday as Derek sat optimistically clutching his lottery ticket. He had won nothing more than a couple of tenners since Camelot and his bountiful balls had began and yet he still got a shiver of anticipation every time one of the numbers dropped down and squeezed itself into the tube.
‘Ten,’ the voice over bellowed, as a cheap-suit clad man watched over proceedings with a look of importance and an air of ‘what the fuck is my job?’
Derek looked down at his ticket knowing full well that he didn’t have ten but hoping that it would miraculously appear.
‘Thirty-one,’ the voiceover started again.
The Coming of Derek (a quirky comedy) Page 2
