A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, lived a happy, carefree, friendly and sociable little creature called Dive.
Happy, carefree Dive went along to his friend's birthday party last Friday (the "Village Of The Damned" one in the previous post), even though he knew that it would be a traumatic and trying affair, avoiding the attentions of the Morloks. He likes his friends that much.
Happy, carefree Dive spent this morning in a happy, carefree (if somewhat tedious) meeting and then went to happy, carefree lunch, secure in the knowledge that he would be safe from the Morloks for a few more months.
Unhappy, fucking sweary Old Dive has just checked his voicemail …
Okay, Maz, I'm not blaming you until I'm certain who did it (though yes, I am glaring angrily at you), but some fucking imbecile bastard in The Village Of The Damned appears to have let slip to your older sister K___i a piece of information that I wanted kept out of Morlok hands; namely, where I work (and you're one of the only people there who knows).
On my office phone I now have three (count 'em) sappy messages from the micro-skirted, sparkly-nailed, peroxide-haired, fake-tanned, sprog-popping, stiletto-heeled, boob-tubed predatory womb on legs known to the world at large as K___i.
Now I am jumping a foot in the air whenever the phone rings and desperately scanning the incoming number for a north-east Norfolk prefix.
What the fuck am I supposed to say to her?
"Hi, K___i. I only danced with you so I'd have something funny to write in my blog?"
or,
"Yes, I'd love to see you again, but before I do, please scrape off the orange fake tan and the caked-on make-up, get your natural hair colour back, buy some decent clothes, get an education and dump your three idiot children at the local orphanage?"
I'm a coward. I'm just going to keep on ignoring her calls and hope she gets the hint.
And Maz, you are in such deep fucking shit, girl.
17 comments:
Wah Ha Ha Ha!!!! I mean, YIKES, not cool. Not cool at all. This reminds me of how I am glad I'm unavailable. I remember times like these VERY well! I support your avoidance, but I'll bet she doesn't easily clue in. Poor misguided little girl...and you. :)
Sigh … I spend most of my life looking for a woman who's willing to sleep with me (and not press charges) and it turns out to be K___i the Morlok.
Thank God I'm too old to still be ruled by my penis.
Brr …
And don't worry about K___i; she'll soon find someone in The Village to give her more kids.
"predatory womb"—that has to be one of your best phrases.
It's certainly one of my most accurate, Robyn.
Dive, PLEASE go on a date with her! PLEASE!! PLEASE?? Because I so need to read a blog about this and it would be a great read.
C'mon...take one for the fucking team, will ya?
You must be brutal dear Dive. Tell her to *uck off you're already quite happily taken. Girls like that need it put rudely in their face. The "No", not an appendage!
all i can say is "ditto what prudence said"...face it, sugar...you need the cold, distant 1000 meter stare, but in your voice...tell her immediately! otherwise she'll think you're playing hard to get! (i know, go figure)
xox
I guess Maz is dead then. I know how you feel! Isn't it annoying when people divulge information you wanted to keep private? Good luck with K. Keep dodging!
Oh Dive - I am soooo sorry - no I'm not I think it is hilarious!!!
Now I hate to tell you but i think you need to take it on yourself to do something good for the gene-pool in Norfolk. You alone could fix it you know. Some extra high-grade genes spread around that community could do wonders for the Morlocks of the future.
A couple of weekends up there and you could have half the community pregnant - think of the improvement ......just a thought!!!!.
PS - If I sent a box of paper bags would it help???
Eww, Prudence. A face full of appendage is a particularly unsavoury thought.
Savannah: I can't phone her. I'm such an old softie that I'd let her talk me around. There are more messages on my voicemail this morning, but I'll ignore them all day and then I'll be working from home for a couple of days in relative safety.
If she keeps calling I'll have IT block calls from her number.
Maz is too cute to die, Joy. Dammit. I'll give her a stern talking-to but she'll just laugh it off. Hey ho.
Jules: AAAAAUUGH! Nooo!
That's going to keep me awake at night for weeks.
Brr …
Aha i must have missed this post and jumped up to the latest one, so i'm a bit tardy here.
The only question now in my mind is....
how did you ever meet these people and become involved in the first place? We've all made mistakes that's for sure, but.... how come the Morlocks? lol! Eeek. Do you really have to go back next year?
Lynn; you'll have to go right back to the start of the Gene Puddle posts to answer that one.
The Morloks (as I'm sure you remember) are the twisted, evil remnants of post-apocalyptic earth from H.G.Wells' The Time Machine.
Oh yes i knew that, i meant how come the Morlocks? Why and how did you get embroiled with them? It seems the mothers of history may well have been right and the phrase you 'got in with the wrong crowd' finally has some truth.
I know I misspell "Morlock", but I think it looks more sinister without the "c".
Hokay … Rod, my sound engineer of many years, and Sharon, one of my backing singers, moved out to a small hamlet near The Village Of The Damned many years ago and we have got sucked in, befriending many of them.
Maz used to hang around the band at gigs and in the studio when she was a little girl (I know, she still is) as she was friends with Sharon's youngest.
Sometimes I view them with horror, sometimes as an anthropological experiment, and sometimes I love them … or some of them, anyway.
I'm just an old softie at heart.
"the micro-skirted, sparkly-nailed, peroxide-haired, fake-tanned, sprog-popping, stiletto-heeled, boob-tubed predatory womb on legs"
Are you sure she's not from Jersey?
Hee hee, Shazza. It seems every community has some of those hidden away somewhere.
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