Fondue or don’t (Part two)
I sat in a silent agony with a mouthful of well-chewed salad plants, making nodding gestures at the points were everyone else was able to open their mouths and laugh out loud. I got an insight as to what an overfed hamster must feel like, and I can tell you now, life’s no fun when you’re just left with your nostrils to breathe through.
I was left with no other option but to guffaw through my nose, as my throat had signed off for the night and hadn’t bother to book an iron lung. It relieved some of the pressure, but it didn’t go half way to solving my problem and, in desperation, I resigned myself to prayer, hoping upon hope that Sally was near the end of her story, but she wasn’t.
While I fought with my body’s natural defence against choking to death, Sally began re-enacting the scene with the umbrella and added a running dialogue – and they say there’s a God! At the precise moment of contact, the woman was about to announce her destination and said, “One to the Mount please.”
Now, in the cold light of day that statement was about as un-humorous as you could get but, add the sharp end of a brolly to the equation and the sentence takes on a whole new life. If she said it once Sally repeated the phrase half a dozen times or more and what the pensioner actually ended up saying in a high pitched voice was, “One to the MOOOOOOOOUNT please,” as she was speared from behind. Well that was it for me; I couldn’t shift the vivid picture from my mind.
I’d had a good run and, considering I’d been breathing through my schnoze for the past five minutes, I thought I’d done quite well. My lungs, on the other hand, simply couldn’t take another repeat of when and where brolly met jacksey, followed by a mass outbreak of infectious laughter from around the table.
After a swift confab with my throat, my brain sent an urgent one-word message back which read, “Eject, eject, eject!” There wasn’t a hint of coughing or gagging, or spluttering of any kind and the velocity of the mulch was purely fuelled and projected by a backlog of my laughter. Up it came – and out it went, and it all happened so quickly I didn’t have time to put my hands in front of my mouth.
Once I’d begun to laugh my little face off, and unfortunately I found it hard to stop, I had a clear throat again and for the first time in 10 minutes was able to bend my neck forward. On achieving this position I sprayed my trousers in a fine mix of well chewed flora, but not before I managed to spray a good number of guests, the table cloth and the table’s contents in an arc of 45 degrees.
I hit the wall behind the guests too, leaving a green silhouette of four people’s heads. I’d coated the faces, clothing and drinks, and the meals of complete strangers, and they were picking greenery out of their hair and clothes for the rest of the evening. Thankfully they all thought my eruption was hilarious but the night wasn’t over yet, and I still had an hour or so to go before I could take my final bow.
During a lull in the laughter at my expense the kettle was put on and, a short time later, the best crockery arrived displayed on a hostess trolley. It was mum’s finest high grade, eggshell porcelain – very posh. I was just thankful I didn’t spray that!
Now, I don’t know what was used to heat the water in my cup but there was no way it could have come from a bog standard kettle. Sally handed out the drinks and then walked over to where I sat on the sofa to give me mine. I assumed she was going to put my tea on the table that separated us. First rule in life – never assume anything!
I’m not sure whether it was the fact that she had two options of where to place my drink that caused her a directional problem, but as I held out my hand she leant forward and then hesitated, and then for some inexplicable reason Sally bypassed the table and my outstretched hand and dropped the lot in my lap.
She put a hand over her mouth to stifle a string of worried, “Oh’s,” and for a brief moment I remained silent. Obviously this state was to change when the cataclysmically heated liquid reached my wedding tackle! In no time at all it had soaked its way through my jeans and boxer shorts, and came to rest on some very sensitive skin. Now you’d have thought that, by the time the scalding water had reached the old family jewels, there might just have been a drop in temperature? No – was the short answer to that!
I began panting like a bloodhound that had just come last in a marathon, only through gritted teeth. My life didn’t flash before my eyes, but the salad spraying incident did, perhaps this was payback time? I was trying hard not to swear as Sally’s mum was present but I came very close to giving into temptation I can tell you. I stood up. Stupid, stupid, move! Gravity took over, and I now had rivulets of a boiling infusion heading towards my knees!
Like I needed reminding, my brain flashed up a signal to the effect that 40 percent of my lower half was now on fire. Soon after my mouth joined in the debate and confirmed the diagnosis. “Ferrrrrrrrrrr Chriiiist ssssake that hurts,” I winced. Sally panicked, then turned a bright scarlet and apologised more than once and then asked if there was anything I needed. Well a bucket of cold water wouldn’t have gone amiss.
She ran towards the kitchen saying she going to get her nurse’s kit. I shouted after her, “Don’t bother love the dress will never fit me.” She stopped in the doorway and collapsed into a heap of laughter and so did the rest of crowd. Hell of a night!
Well, that’s it for this year, I’m creamed-crackered and need a rest. I’ve finshed my second book, while writing with the online bipolar magazine ‘Forward’, which is now back in circulation after a break.
We’ve been working on a new book called ‘A Bipolar Book’ and it covers the creative people through the years who’ve had and still have bipolar disorders. Artists such as, Amy Winehouse, Kurt Cobain, Frank Bruno and many more. A Bipolar Book will be released in the New Year.
Forward now has 17,000 readers, worldwide, and if you would like to recieve our free mid-week and weekend editions covering international bipolar news and our humour pages, please send a blank email to ashby300@hotmail.com and type ‘subscribe’ in the subject box.
Thank you one and all for dropping by my site, I hope I’ve caused a little wave of laughter over the last 12 months and you’ll stop by in the New Year.
Take care and have a cool Yule
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