The Bish Packs It In.
Written by Sandshoe
The Bish arrived with attitude. The good Bish (there are some very bad Bishes) had been a supplicant for a semester at a mind re-training boot camp conducted in the Southern Highlands by the Society for the Restoration of All Bishops of Any Sin. FOW*, still. after all these years resident in the Manse over the road from the Pig’s Arms** carpark had some advantages as a host of his, or her, re-emergence. More important to the Bish than anything was no longer being of a fixed mindset about his, or her, personal gender or about anything at all. If anything, FOW was the perfect host. He was laid back.
The Bish greeted his friend, Sandy O’Way with gushing warmth.
“Mother O’Way, away wit’ y’ lookin’ so bonny.”
Sandy, or as we like to address him on formal occasions, FOW, hesitated.
“I’ll need to put down the suitcases, Bish.’
The suitcases dispensed with at the bottom of the staircase, FOW waited for the onrush of shock into his consciousness to subside. Being seized and hugged in an instant by the Bish was unexpected, nay unaccustomed. He picked up the suitcases again, his two hands firmly gripped on them as if on reality. The Bish filled him in as they walked up the staircase to the upper storey side by side
The Bish had seen where inconsistencies in the mortal and moral fabric tethered him, or her to the old ways in entire indifference to caring. In bondage, the Bish explicated. He waved his hands free of imagined shackles.
“We’re all good then.”
FOW wanted it to be inferred he would be Mother O’Way, MOW if necessary were it required of him. What’s in a name.
“Never been better,” the Bish punched with his fists into the very air.
“I’ll check your prescriptions. Seen Gordy*** lately?”
“Don’t forget Gord, Sandy.” Tears of beatitude and plenitude, rectitude I suspect, gratitude rolled down the face of the Bish. They splashed onto the gold heraldic design on the carpet on the staircase.
*Father O’Way
**Window Dresser’s Arms, Pig and Whistle
***Gordy O’Donnell, nuclear and unplugged physicist of all things indeterminable in the Cyberverse.

I was expecting a visit from one of those smart, one dimensional representatives of the Fictional Union Characters known as a FUCwit. I didn’t see any of this coming.
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That’s so odd.
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It’s alright, I often don’t see what’s coming.
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Get a two-way mirror thingy wingy. They have them on blind corners of pedestrian and vehicular carriageways. Bit bulky. You get a good look though. 🙂
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Ah, I see!!
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That was quick. I was feared they be out of stock.
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Who is MOW again?
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Mother O’Way
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Sandy will be taking some charge of the Bish’s affairs.
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As opposed to Mrs Edith O’Way (MEOW).
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Or Ethel or Edna
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PEOW! PEOW! (Ethel and/or Edna O’Way’s kiddies playing cowboys and cops in the backyard of the Manse)
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Very timely.
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“Have you seen Gordy lately” Priceless WDAP&W tomfoolery. Love it.
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You liked that, eh. I’ll take that. Thank you. I feared it might be too subtle a reference to our eponymous head researcher, Gordon O’Donnell. I trust the Bish has not lost him.
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Alert. Comment stuck in moderation at this address.
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Don’t know why but sometimes regulars wait in the list till approved. Have to ask emmjay.
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Phew. Allowed out. Always feels like a sin bin detention to be ‘moderated’. Just when you’re trying to find Merv to let him know get in some extra stock for the Sports Bar, the Bish is back in town.
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