Story by Sandshoe
Schmoley the room lit up like a Roman Candle going off. Looked like Gordon set up one of the best exits for the bish. Totally.
Gordon spiralled through the door of the bar out of a parallel universe. He swooned like an accordion collapsing onto the bar stool next to where the bish was flopped with his limp head lolling in the space under the bar. See previous episode eh to understand what is going down here.
Gordon was oblivious to everything in the room aside the bish. He was tapping his foot way wrong.
Gordon always tapped out I Did It the Wrong Way which was a song he wrote when he was a post man and the more seriously (totally) wrong the timing (yeah, I know but his theory, not mine) he thought he could raise the dead. No, you’re right nobody else has mentioned this not even in passing. The bish might have but who knew so much going on.
Talk about silly this lot. Universities, eh. Like Schrodinger’s moggie. Not that Gordon had run into Schrodinger on the circuit even when their cats’ lives over lapped, but there are some dead and undead theories going on in Gordon’s head about the bish in that moment would have made any phsyicist proud, more so if they had been on the turps themselves up the way a bit. Polite way of saying Gord was feet up and the rest of him on Rosie on Rosie’s sofa having his own down time.
There’s a euphemism. When the lights went out instead of on at Rosie’s, Gordon (nothing surer, our Gordy) jumped to his feet as well as he could manage with his inebriation and flailing tumescence and looked out the louvres that looked out over the left hand and the right hand stair case. You know the sort. Inexplicable design to accommodate an onslaught of who knows how many tramping feet and they reach a landing that is a square hardly looks big enough for the anticipated siphoning of these many arrivals up the remaining single staircase. Without the neon light flashing in his eyes as it did in usual syncopated beat-style FLASH FLASH no worries a light or two fallen out over the years, he made out the shape of a contingent of pleece personnel at the door of the Sports Bar. If not pleece, it was an army battalion.
PLEECE! PLEECE!
That’s what he heard.
Nobody could hear Gordon tapping his foot anyway so what hope would the dead have. The pleece bursting through the front doors off the street unexpectedly caused a sort of Pandemonium.
I’ve got the timing right, you don’t have to worry about that. Gord was upstairs looking out and downstairs looking at the bish’s head lolling in the space under the bar at the same time. He arrived before he was missed upstairs. Rosie did not know he had left. She did work out he wasn’t all there. She asked him to please not to forget to put his pants on being like he was well affected by Rosie’s liquor. He replied he had and Rosie said to him even though he was downstairs wrestling the body of the bish back up into an upright position from prone no he hadn’t.
Gord was there when he wasn’t to explain what happened without to-do. He was both present and absent in both places at the same time. He put pants on and he hadn’t. He met himself coming.
PLEECE! PLEECE!
“Likely story.”
That was what the Superintendent at the Pleece Station said when Gordon was brought in by half the army battallion-like pleece personnel contingent struggling and clutching the bish upright who it appeared in the light of an emergency generator was a stiff already dressed in a floor length ceremonial death caftan and Gordon wouldn’t or couldn’t let go. He couldn’t. He went back a long way with the bish. It was time to take their relationship to the next level. Keep him close. Bring the bish back from the dead.
“Name!”
He tried. He couldn’t say it. It was too long. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Alright then, sir! Initials if it’s too hard! Give us a … ”
“G.” Gordon managed a G. Tap. Tap.
“It’s a start! Got to start somewhere.”
Gordon noded his head and shook it. Confused the desk clerk. EEvonnn. Hard to confuse Eevonnn. Tap. Tap. Tap. He kept tapping his feet.
“Next!”
“O a postrophy D. For O’Donnell. G is for Gordon. Ehxcuzhe me. I urgently need to phone my cat.”
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
TO BE CONTINUED:
sandshoe said:
I’ve sent an Episode 87 in. Accepting of course we may have more than one Episode 87. 🙂
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Big M said:
I sent something to the boss, too, but it’s probably caught in his spam filter, or is it? Can it exist in two states at once? We may never know, or will we?
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sandshoe said:
Hahaha.
Could our works be both caught in the works, Big M?
I now wonder honestly about the question you posit of their existence in two states at once, your call. An award level thought there.
Early days I suspect.
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Big M said:
Yes, perhaps the Pigs needs an electric eel through the gizzards. I suspect there’s a build up somewhere.
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sandshoe said:
A sort of “Electric Daylight Shock Therapy’ rendering around 500V?
I dunno about that.
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sandshoe said:
Big M, dju check if your article made it clear of the waste paper basket? I’m fair bustin’ to read what you wrote so I really want to know it’s in the pipeline…
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Big M said:
I resent it to the boss, hopefully clear of wastepaper, or any other baskets.
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sandshoe said:
Thanks for update verification it’s in, leastwise we suppose. 🙂
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sandshoe said:
Big M, I’m your way of thinking about the electric eel. I’ve rethought.
This to let you know as well Big M I’ve sent in another Episode. I’ve tried to make it as non-committal as possible to fit whatever else pops out as a result of the release of the electric eel. Should go swimmingly.
Cheers, dear brother.
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Big M said:
Sister ‘shoe. Great work, yes there may be a great release of willow roots and assorted feculence with the application of the eel.
I suspect the boss has his hands full with all sorts of other life matters. Perhaps I should put my hand up as a contact for Public bar related matters. Like a bouncer.
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sandshoe said:
There’s no knowing where it might lead if we do not institute the position of bounce. I’ll exercise the prerogative of an affected party. You’re appointed. I pray myself while this is going on he’s not finding religion, brother. Our numbers are insufficient to be called a congregation. 😉
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Big M said:
Sister ‘Shoe, Grace and Mercy be unto you, and youz!
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sandshoe said:
You make a great bounce.
I have received a memo, Big. The boss reckons he will post my latest one today. He may not, of course, as we’ve not yet released the eel.
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vivienne29 said:
I think I’m lost. Is everyone totally pissed?
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sandshoe said:
It’s in the area of quantuum physics, Vivienne, Gordon’s cup of tea really. 🙂
Using it,though Gordon will attempt to bring the bish back to life. Supposing …and I think we have not much choice at the distance we are from the action … that the bish really is not of the earth at the moment.
I’m going to ask around to see if I can discover, too, why the pleece raid.
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sandshoe said:
I like to call it ‘in suspense’ rather than lost, Viv. 😉
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vivienne29 said:
Right O. I’ll be suspended and hang in there. I probably just need a pink drink.
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vivienne29 said:
It makes a lot of sense read backwards.
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sandshoe said:
I mean. We have little management over Gordon. He was seriously on the turps though. I meant to say. What state is the pub going to be in when the other half of that police raid finish with whatever they are doing.
It can’t have been triggered either by Merv becoming unbalanced and doing what he has to contribute to this sorry state of affairs. Leastwise I don’t think so.
I can’t imagine Gordon is going inside because he appears to have done the bish a serious wrong. It’s a mistake. Merv’ll tell them what happened. No, I don’t know where Merv got to that he escaped, shall we say, suspicion. Well, I don’t know if he has. I am seeking answers too, Viv.
Help yourself, Viv, for the alcohol does work a treat. Best advice I ever got. 😉
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Big M said:
At least one meets a better style a lass round ‘ere.
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sandshoe said:
Andy Capp said that about his local, I am sure. 😉
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algernon1 said:
I assume Gordon’s cat was not harmed i n the telling of this story.
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sandshoe said:
GC? Totally good. Not a lot to say yet.
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sandshoe said:
I think it has some merit. 🙂
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Mark said:
Poor old Gordon’s cat, in for 9 miserable lives…
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Big M said:
I’m with you, Mark, Gordan’s Cat is in for some cosmic kitty litter.
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sandshoe said:
Yes, I see what you mean. Things may have taken a serious turn for the worse for Gordon’s Cat.
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