Howard awoke early having barely slept. He ached
horribly and there was a nasty, putrid taste
in his mouth. Miserably he limped downstairs.
The lounge was empty. It reeked of stale cigarette
smoke. Flicking the light switch, he saw his
bag with some lecture notes and cheap biros
in it. To assuage his guilt he tried to tackle
an astrophysics problem but no matter how often
he reread the question his mind veered before
he had contemplated it.
He had blown up
Granny Grail! The police would be round!
Slowly he hauled himself upstairs and examined
himself in the mirror. He peered with disrespect
at his imperfect face and mediocre body. Such
raw material didn't exactly give him a head
start in life, but maybe it was a blessing in
disguise. If he could not impress by looks
alone then he must nurture skills to impress
by other means and later in life when looks
fade at least his skills would remain intact
and enhanced. Somehow this philosophy did not
cheer him. He would get laid if only he had
better looks.
The phone rang noisily in the hall. He heard
Gallie's bedroom door open. Sprightly footsteps
pattered down the stairs. Howard surreptitiously
opened his door.
'
Hello.' It was Gallie's voice. 'Oh,
yes, I'll just see if he's in his room.'
Footsteps pattered up the stairs just as Howard
had managed to silently shut his door. There
was a gentle knock.
'Yes?' asked Howard innocently, without opening
his door.
'Howie, it's the phone for you!' shouted Gallie
through the barrier.
Howard jerked open the door.
'Who is it?' he asked suspiciously. 'Tell the
bastards I'm not at home!'
'What?'
'You certain it's not the coppers?'
Gallie giggled at him. 'Why, of coarse! Why,
have you murdered someone?'
Howard gazed at her suspiciously. She furrowed
her forehead.
'Hurry up! It's you're
Dad on the phone.'
'My
Dad? Oh,
thank God!'
Gallie stared at him quizzically. He eased himself
down the stairs and grabbed the clunky, coil-tethered
phone handset that lay on the floor in the hall.
The grubby twisted wire stretched and lifted
the main body of the phone off the floor. It
bounced to the ground again with a heavy clunk.
'Hello.'
'
Hello Howard'.
'Hello Dad'
'Howard, I have the most curious news. Guess
who's dead!'
'No idea.'
'Your grandmother! You're Grandmother passed
away last night.'
'Oh shit!' said Howard tetchily. He had just
had a depressing, mournful thought: he had lost
the hope of the herbal love potion, the
expensive
love potion: the
potent potion. His
optimism of capturing Gallie's heart was vanquished
along with the unfortunate Granny Grail.
'How did she...?'
'Well, truth be told, you might read it in the
press. The old crone incinerated herself! Gas
explosion!' explained Howard's father gleefully.
He could hardly have sounded chirpier if he
had announced he had just won the pools.
'Really? Any other relatives with her at the
time?'
'No, I'm afraid the body count is just one so
far, Son.'
'I suppose you have an emergency fishing trip
to Scotland lined up to get out of attending
the funeral?'
'I'm trying to organise that, Son. Those emergency
fishing trips come in very handy to tell the
truth.'
'You've got no chance. Mum won't let you get
out of going to the funeral. Just think, now
Granny Grail's kicked the bucket, no more emergency
fishing trips to Scotland!'
'Not necessarily, Son. I'm rather hooked on
those emergency fishing trips to tell the truth.
I'll be going on a few more, I don't care what
your mother says.'
'How's Mum coping?'
'She's upset. She's busying herself with the
funeral arrangements at the mo.'
'You say there was a big gas explosion?'
'Yeah, blew the roof off that creepy cottage
of hers. Perhaps she had a gas leak in her cauldron,
Son!'
Howard and his father shared a belly laugh at
this. It was a joyful moment. Soon the conversation
ended. Howard was still chuckling as he slotted
the receiver into its cradle with a clack. Gallie
walked past. Howard's high spirits seemed to
lift her own and she beamed brightly.
'Happy news?' she asked casually.
'Apparently my Granny died. Gas Explosion,'
he said, joviality still flourishing within
him.
The beaming smile froze and then slowly ebbed
from Gallie's face.
'Ohhhh!' she exclaimed. She edged away from
him nervously as if trying to put a safe distance
between herself and danger.
Howard was about to try to reassure her but
she disappeared into the living room. He decided
he needed tea to help him think so he wandered
into the kitchen and filled a saucepan with
water, which took some effort as the sink was
choked in cruddy washing up. He put the saucepan
on the stove and turned on the gas. Reaching
for the big box of kitchen matches he extracted
a light, struck it and held it to the stove.
The bright blue flame lashed the base of the
saucepan.
From the kitchen Howard heard Greg's heavy footsteps
pummelled the stairs. A woman's giggles followed
him.
'Take it easy, Poppet!'
'Ciao Gregory!'
Howard heard a kissing sound and the front door
opened and shut.
Dressed in a scarlet dressing gown and whistling,
Greg came into the kitchen.
'Hello Howie,' he said cheerfully. 'Frigging
tasty slice of tottie that! I'll send her your
way one of these days. What about your Granny
then eh?
Sodom and Gomorrah! It's not
everyday you have your Grandma blown to smithereens,
eh?'
'No, Greg, actually it's the first time. Anyway,
how did you know Granny Grail?'
Greg shoved some toast under the grill, struck
a match and sparked a whoosh of violet flames.
'She called round to drop a package off for
you the one time. I answered the door. She said
she had some herbs for you and did I want to
buy some. "No thank you very much",
I told her, "I don't need any
lucky
heather". Then she showed me some pot.
I thought she was joking. So I blasted a stick
and
Sodom and Gomorrah! Honest to goodness
that sorceress sold some magic ganja, this was
none of your usual crap from the seedy bloke
in the pub, I can tell you. She was the greatest,
your Granny!' Greg's voice became rueful. 'And
you went and did for her! I'll not find more
shit like that in a million years!'
'Christ.'
Greg grew angry.
'She was better than bleeding Christ. Christ
never got me boom that could blow yer bleeding
balls off.'
'And she sold herbs to Steve too?'
'Dunno what that fucking maggot was doing there.
Think Karen must have told him, the stupid bitch.'
Howard felt intimidated, as he often did in
Greg's company. His fear was mixed with resentment:
Granny Grail had sold drugs to his housemates
and yet she had never offered any to
him.
Perhaps she had thought him unworthy, she had
still thought of him as a boy. It
served
her right, what happened to her. Dazed and
indignant he wandered into the lounge. Karen
and Gallie were curled up on the sofa.
'My Dad sings in the bath,' laughed Gallie.
'I bet he's not, like, as completely over the
top as my idiot brother actually,' said Karen,
'He sings out of tune and, you know, just sounds
horrid. The trouble is that he thinks he's,
like, fab. He's got quite a good voice actually,
but you get fed up with it after a while, he
reckons he's Elvis!'
'I
love those earrings Kaz. Where did
you get them?'
'You know that trendy little shop just down
Ring Stone Alley?'
'Ohhh I know.'
'Yes, they really caught my eye and actually,
the more I looked at them the more I liked them
so I just thought
what the hell and went
for it,' 'They're
really nice. I've got
this pair of earrings back home which were a
present from a cousin I really get on with.
They're kinda bluey with a tinge of lilac and
diamond shaped with this lovely gold trimming.
Trouble is, they don't match my dresses. It's
typical really.'
'Oh I know.' Gallie shrugged her small shoulders
and sighed deeply.
'I'm always, like, buying bits and pieces only
to find that I can't actually wear
anything
with them. My sister's got the right idea though,
she just buys more clothes 'til she can match
most things. Spends every penny she gets on
clothes. Trouble is, she put on weight. All
those clothes she bought don't fit her anymore.
She's desperately trying, like, to trim down
because she can't afford, you know, to replace
her wardrobe. None of her clothes fit
me
unfortunately. I wish they did, she won't be
needing them again, if I know
her. She
sort of hasn't the willpower to stick to a diet.'
'Nor me,' bemoaned Gallie.
'For Christ's sakes, you don't need to diet,
Gallie, because actually you're like really
good looking, for a fattish girl.'
'I
wish I didn't!' said Gallie self-depreciatingly.
Greg marched into the lounge with his toast.
Howard returned to the kitchen, wiped a few
cups with an oily jay cloth, made everyone tea
and distributed the drinks to his housemates
in the lounge.
'Actually,' Karen was saying, 'I don't know
anyone who has stuck to a diet for more than
a few months and actually kept the weight off.
It's frankly impossible. We women are really
being exploited by the diet industry.'
'I'll hold a tenner that the diet industry is
run by fat cats' said Howard.
'Fat
men cats,' asserted Karen, 'like
Greg. Actually he's a fat
dog.'
Greg placed a huge hand on his belly.
'This is just puppy fat.'
'Puppies can grow into scary wolves,' laughed
Gallie.
Greg growled by way of imitating a wolf, and
his mimicry was fearsome. Gallie moved over
to Greg and slapped his belly four times.
'You - naughty - naughty - beast!'
With a roar Greg reared up, arms outstretched.
Gallie screamed and fled back to the safety
of the sofa.
'I remember when I was in the sixth form at
school,' said Howard, 'this girl joined
Fat-Watchers
in the autumn. She lost a couple of stone. Then
at Christmas she pigged out and put it all back
on, plus a bit. Then in January you couldn't
move for seeing
Fat-Watchers adverts.
They were everywhere telling you to lose that
weight you put on over Christmas. I'd wouldn't
mind a wager that they get the same old faces
every year.'
'Actually they'll never get
my money,'
said Karen. She pulled in her stomach.
'Dieting's a repeat business,' said Howard.
'They don't want you to stay thin too long and
they know you won't. They want your custom for
life. Fat then thin then fat again. They keep
you dieting until you die from eating disorders.
Then they loot your fat corpse, chuck it into
the gutter and then they start fleecing your
fat offspring.'
'Ahhhh! You seem like an expert on dieting,
Howie,' said Gallie.
'That sixth form girl was a victim. I really
liked her and tried to help but she wouldn't
listen to me. I think she makes herself sick.
You know, fingers down the throat after eating.'
'She's a Bulgarian then,' said Greg.
'That's really awful,' opined Karen. 'I think
it's
men's fault. They definitely use
the media to demand that women such as Gallie
should be slim like me.'
Gallie sighed.
'I don't think it's
just down to men,'
said Howard. 'If men had that much power over
women then all women would feel obliged to have
sex all the time.'
'They
do!' said Greg.
'They
don't!' laughed Gallie.
Howard adored her laugh. He couldn't get over
it. It was complex. It was natural. It was like
being privilege to a celestial sound, a sound
so seductive that not even gods could resist.
'
And,' said Howard recovering himself
and warming to his point,' they'd be naked all
the time too. Can you imagine it? Women would
join Clothes-Watchers clubs until they had lost
all their clothes.'
'Actually,' sighed Karen, 'men definitely want
us naked and men definitely want to sell us
clothes. That tells me that men are really moronic.'
'Hey,' said Gallie to Karen, 'I bought this
super little party dress, if you like I will
show it to you.'
'Is it trendy?' said Karen. The two women raced
out of the room and up the stairs.
Greg and Howard exchanged a glance.
'Mark my words, Gallie will say she's too fat
for her dress,' said Greg. 'Then Kas will tell
her she looks great and then make some comment
about how bad her own appearance is. But she
will only say this in the hope that Gallie will
return the complement and say she wished she
was slim like Kas.'
'But Gallie isn't fat!' protested Howard.
The girls returned.
'Well, what do you think?' asked Gallie swirling
in her dress. 'Don't tell me. I look fat in
this dress! Do I look fat in this dress?'
Her dress was a loud purple shock of cloth,
every thread of which strained with flirtation.
'Oh no you
don't actually,' said Karen
with an eager sincerity, 'I wish I had your
curves. I'm just thin like a stick compared
to you!'
'Huh,' sighed Gallie. 'If only!'
Greg gave Howard a knowing look and turned to
the girls.
'You're like birds of paradise. No brains and
all plumage.'
'Oh you are so fucking... you fucker!' fumed Karen.
'Greg, as far as I'm concerned you are a fat
turkey and, you know what? Frankly I
just can't wait till Christmas because I am
just going to baste you in lard, Turkey-man,
until for once in your horrid, buffoon life
you are tender and have taste. Actually, on
second thoughts I doubt that you would taste
of anything except bitter because you are the
most bitter, twisted, sad, useless fucking shit-head
ever. Turkey-man!'
'You crack me when you sweet-talk me,' said
Greg. He pulled some tobacco and paraphernalia
from his pockets and began to concoct a reefer.
'
Greg, is that, like, the
good
mix?' said Karen reproachfully.
'You've stopped calling me
Turkey-man!
But it won't help. You're getting none of this,
Kas, baby. There's no more where this gold came
from, thanks to Howie here.'
'What do you mean?' snapped Karen.
'Howard went and killed his bleeding Grandmother!'
Howard jumped to his feet in dismay. He was
bound to be reported to the police.
'
Greg!'
Greg laughed manically.
'Oh Howard, don't you
ever learn?' cried
Karen. ''Just
ignore him like I do. Greg,
you're totally one sick
fuck, you know
that?'
 | | | | |
| From: |
Knoeier | Subject: | 2002-11-27 17:00:52 |
| | | | |
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