Granny Reminisces (the other bit)
Story by Big M
MR Foodge appeared at the bar. “What’s wrong, my young, mentally challenged, chap?” Foodge always thought that ‘mentally challenged’ was a sort of compliment.
“Oh, ah, me phone.” Manne proffered the dead instrument to Foodge.
“Ah, yes, no battery…hold on.” Foodge rummaged through his Dressing Gown pockets,
and came up with three bobby pins, many tissues (yike), paper clips, a photo of Granny, and a iPhone lead. He looked around eagerly for a charger.
“Here, mate.” Angler, who didn’t seem to be part of the story, passed along one of those fancy backup battery, thingummies. “Never leave home without it.”
“Fabulous.” Foodge put it all together. “Now, let’s all see what our young friend is on about?”
YOUR IOS DEVICE IS INFECTED WITH SEVEN VIRUSES, WHICH WERE FROM PORN SITES. OUR ANTIVIRUS CAN ERRADISHCAKE THEM FOR ONLY $129.99.
Foodge raised a baristerial eyebrow, then passed it to Angler, who nearly fell orff his barstool laughing, who passed it to Gib who nearly choked on his ale, before passing it to Hung who sniggered before passing it to the night duty nurses, who all laughed uproariously, before giving it to Emmjay, who, being a serious, fatherly sort of a cove, shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just a scam, Manne, there won’t really be porno driven viruses in your phone!”
“Porno, porno, yer watchin’ porno?” Granny snatched the phone from Emmjay for a good look. “You’ve got three tabs open, fulla nudies!” Granny smacked him a couple of times around the back of the head.
“Now, Granny, calm yourself.” Foodge managed to hold her back preventing her from unleashing another salvo of slaps. “You know he’s got a soft head, which won’t take much abuse!”
“Well, I won’t have a pervert under my roof, back yer bags, and yer titty magazines, or whatever yerve got!”
“Now, Granny, Dear.” Started Foodge. “This may be a symptom of something much deeper…”
“Yes, a deep perve!” Granny slammed the phone down on the bar, cracking the glass.
“No, er, well. Yes, but not perve, um, I mean perversion.” Foodge tried to clean up the glass. “I suspect that our Manne is, well, lonely.”
He’ll be fuckin’ lonely..” Granny was red faced, with beads of sweat forming on her forehead.
“No, well, that’s what I’m trying to say, our faithful retainer, young Manne, needs a woman in his life.”
“A woman, thought he was gay, or Mormon, or something!” Granny was trying to mop the sweat from her face with some of those recycled serviettes, you all know, the brown ones that doing everything except absorb fluid.
“I’m not gay, or Mormon, or Callithumpian!” Manne had at last found his voice. “While we’re at it, do I owe some phone people $129.99 Mr Emmjay?”
“No, son.” Resonated Emmjay’s kindly voice. ”But your phone’s fucked!” With that he left.
“So, yer on the level then, Foodge?” Granny seemed to be calmed by Foodge’s presence.
“Of course, my Dear!” Foodge blushed to be calling Granny ‘Dear’ in front of the patrons. “The question is, where would we find a girl for Mann?”