A reprise from the great Hung One On (aka Mark)
Billy Bishop holding this months copy of Big and Bouncy[1]
If you haven’t read parts 1 and 2 then this won’t make any sense, not that it does anyway. Dem is here,
https://pigsarms.com.au/2016/02/11/father-oway-the-early-days-1/
and if still brave
https://pigsarms.com.au/2016/02/15/father-oway-the-early-days-2/
We all sweet.
So Billy went and became a trainee priest at the Church of St Generic Brand and we lost touch. Sad actually, Billy was my best mate for years and now I could no longer go home I was all alone. Isn’t sadness a funny thing because if you have never had happiness you won’t know what sadness is. Crikey, that’s a worry, that even made sense anyhoo I’m going to skip sadness and stick with happiness from now on, er, um, whatever that means.
[Mark here Sandy, get on with it, you’re using up the word count]
Darn the truth hurts sometimes. Verbosity was never my strong point, can’t think why, maybe my low literacy skills might have something to do with it but I doubt it. As my English teacher once said, oops, hang on, I never listened to him so lets just drop that one. And if I ever see the truth in one of these stories I will tell you and that’s a lie. You can trust me on that one for sure.
Anyhoo, I got a job making wing nuts in a factory down the road with board and lodgings at Madame La SpaghettiBolognaise’s Commorancy. Its next door to Glenda’s House of Pain and around the corner from the hotel, the Window Dressers Arms Pig and Whistle better know as The Pigs Arms.
The job was really hard, it took peak physical fitness, extreme intelligence and a high level of dexterity and of course I had none of those qualities therefore I was a perfect fit for the job. So you put a nut and a wing together in a machine, push a button and hey presto you have a wing nut. Thirty in one go and watch dem fingers and toes, it’s considered appropriate to fully check each digit before going home, hmm. I think gender may determine that count but lets not go there although I’m finding it difficult to resist.
Madame La SpaghettiBolognaise was a wonderful mother to all us challenged boys and you were able to tell which day of the week it was by the flavour of the sauce, curry, chilli, garlic and mushroom all with pasta de jour but Sunday night was always chicken roast, yumbo. A hearty breakfast and sandwiches and fruit for smoko and it was all ten times better than Sow End High but then again that wouldn’t take much.
Madame La SpaghettiBolognaise took all our wages and gave us some spending money for the weekend, generosity to the max, for sure. Anyhoo, I spent most of my spare time down the park kicking the soccer ball and dreaming about building another robot just like when I was a kid. Then I saw this man approach me in a weird suit, like the one you would get from a weird suit shop but it was a priest, collar and all.
“Gidday Sandy” said the bloke, well I guess he has done his home work. Didn’t you hate that as a kid, come home from school and continue working. Dear oh dear, what sort of world did we grow up in. Anyway I digress which is the only thing I’m good at.
I looked hard at him, so hard in fact that my eyes were hurting. My eyes were telling my brain to go way and procreate but in some other words that may be considered rude. Go on brain think of something to do however my neural pathways returned this message “Unfortunately your operating system is going to shut down. Press any key you like, it won’t make any difference…” Notice the dots at de end, why day do dat?
I awoke on the ground with my head between a priest’s legs. I was groaning, I could feel this throbbing sensation in my head umm, umm, but is was Billy, Billy Bishop, my best mate. Billy was helping me up off the ground and you thought! well I never. He still had that wicked grin sort of like a Cheshire Cat but not full breed, maybe half-breed that had luckily been run over by a lorry.
“Billy how the sexual intercourse are you?” I cried with joy. Billy looked really well, happy and by the look of him well fed. We hugged and shook hands. This was unbelievable and this is fiction and even I’m believing it’s real, wow.
“I’m great, the church is a fantastic place. Look tomorrow is Sunday, come over, watch the
service and have lunch. It will be a great day out and you and I can talk all the bulldung we like. Starts at 10” says Billy. Notice how the boys are keeping the language down, someone under 45 may be watching this. Believe me this 45 thing is real. One never knows, anyhoo I, um, yep, you get the picture.
“Well Billy, you know that me and sexually intercoursing Church’s was never my strong point” I speak, with tongues, not really but sounds wicked don’t it. And to be honest I never made Churches a point to start with.
Billy pulls out the old grin trick. Apparently your mouth can form into a semi-crescent of some kind and the other apes think you are showing you like them. Even I don’t believe this.
“Well okay then” I say “but please don’t shove this down my throat and yes it would be great to get together and tell porkies about how great we once were.” I commit.
Laughs all round. We shook hands and Billy headed off to the church which by the way is just down the road and round the corner, just like everything else in Inner Cyberia.
We think therefore we are sand.
Authors Notes:
Comments between square brackets [ ] are usually conversations between the character and the author, or some other character like Mike the Editor. Don’t be alarmed be alert.
[1] Billy has assured me that Big and Bouncy is a basketball magazine, for sure, I mean this is fiction and even I don’t buy that, well not until next time.
YULI said:
I never listened to him so lets just drop that one. And if I ever see the truth in one of these stories I will tell you and that’s a lie.
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Big M said:
I appreciate the efforts you’ve pt in to keep the swearing and salacious language to a minimum. I get really fucking offended over that sort of shit.
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astyages said:
I’m rather fond of leaving a little row of dots at the end of a sentence, too, Hung… No more than three, though… that would be considered excessive, imho. I usually think of them as indicating either a) that more could well be said on whatever was the subject of that particular sentence, or, b) a ‘pregnant’ pause…
That’s my excuse, and I’m sticking with it! 😉
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Mark said:
Cheers mate. Thanks for the info.
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Big M said:
and (c) I’ve forgotten what I was on about…In fact, the story in my brain sounded like a novella, but on paper it’s more like a pamphlet, I mean, business card…
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vivienne29 said:
Specifically three dots means that something has been left out. More dots mean nothing in particular or perhaps just I can’t be bothered, I don’t know how to end this.
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astyages said:
Yes Vivienne, I remember being taught at Uni that three dots meant a word had been omitted; four dots indicated that a phrase, a whole sentence, or even more had been omitted.
I suppose that’s why I use three dots to indicate that more could have been said… I still think four dots is excessive. 😉
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vivienne29 said:
I think three dots means words have been omitted – one or more from a quote, a specific part of some. There are no official 4 dots etc. Just three dots. Sometimes I use more dots at the end of something I saying which is just a way of indicating I could say more but I’m not – sort of instead of etc. – but that’s just casual stuff.
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astyages said:
Well… I can only say that for anthropologists at Adelaide Uni during the mid-80s there were ‘officially’ four dots. I suppose that, like grammar itself, it is prone to regional variation.
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Therese Trouserzoff said:
Three dots get my vote – referred to as an ellipsis…
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Big M said:
As long as theyre not followed three dashes.
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