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,

Father O’Way – The Early Days 1

and if still brave

Father O’Way – 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

Sister Horribleness and Father Veri Bent

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.

Father Veri Bent, readying himself to talk to the boys at Sow End High

WARNING: Do not consume liquids while attempting to read this story. Please ensure the cat is outside and if lucky it will be run over by a lorry. That way you will get more of your drink back. Keep tissues handy and it’s best to blow your nose before starting. If you understand the story then good for you!!!

If you haven’t read part 1 then go to the link below. Do so at your peril then come back here.

Father O’Way – The Early Days 1

All good. Okay, here’s what happens next.

One day mum said “You start school on Monday Sandy” as mothers sort of tend to do, especially when your name is Sandy and your mother is actually speaking to you. You know that no matter how much they love you, they always have the guts to tell you the truth. The truth, at times, can be hard to take and as it works out its up to you bozo, anyway I digress which is the only thing I’m actually any good at.

“Oh” I replied trying to ignore her. School rhymes with tool, is full of fools and then you get taught by mules, who by the way tried their hardest as mules do. How am I going to get out of this.

“Yes, Monday, try to do your best and get ready for the O’Way jokes” winked Mum. What’s an O’Way joke?[1]

So I went to school and did all the usual things you do on the first day, like wet your pants or say something stupid like “The man in the picture has a beard. I hate men with beards“, can you hear  the alarm bells ringing, I can now but not then.

When I got home mum asked, “So how was your day? What classes are you having tomorrow?”
“You mean I have to go back tomorrow” I asked with sinking heart.
“Yes, and for the next 10 years or so” said Mum. Wow, did I kill someone and no one told me, where are you Brian?[2]

So life became irrevocably changed. I wanted to keep working on the circuit boards in Dad’s shed to build my next robot but oh no I had to go to school. Just to learn a heap of stuff that I already new. This was frustration to the extreme.

Until along came a new boy called Billy, Billy Bishop, well it was William really but we all called him Billy. Me and Billy became best mates, footy, cricket you name it we played it all. As we approached the final part of Junior school me and Billy decided to steal a few oranges from the local orchard. Now what we didn’t know was the owner just happened to be patrolling the area, carrying an Anti Orange Stealer Device sometimes referred to as an AK-47. The owner demonstrated it’s firing prowess by discharging some ammunition contained in the magazine in our general direction. Now if you have heard of the saying “a rock and a hard place” then you will understand that having a rock and a hard place in front of you when you are being shot at by an AK-47 can be seen as a positive outcome. The future can never look dark, well not until next time any way.

Have you ever been that lucky that the Pleece[3] arrived, well the Pleece arrived. Probably saved our lives but took us to the station to be charged. Oops, I forgot to tell you, stealing oranges in Inner Cyberia is major offence. It’s up there with tax evasion except with tax evasion you just get richer whereas stealing oranges is a jail term. I’m sure you can see the analogy.

So me and Billy were sent to the Sow End High School for Boys with Criminal Records, yes I know the SESBCR, try an make an acronym out of that why don’t you! There were some weird types at the school, kids that could do the Rubric Cube in 5 seconds, use calculators and recite Pi to 25 decimal places, hmm, I know, scary. Luckily Billy new karate and I knew four be two so after awhile they left us alone.

School was a trudge and as evil orange stealer’s me and Billy were there till finishing year. At first mum would visit and see how I was going. Then after a while mum stopped coming and sent letters till I got this one

“Dear {Insert your name here}
We have had to let your room out so you can’t come home ever again. We all miss you {Insert your name here}
Mum”

Touching to the extreme. Better cross her off the Christmas list, not that I ever send any cards anyway. The school was put in charge of our finishing year and one day a priest visited to talk to us about becoming priests. As usual we had to attend another boring lecture. Let’s choose, hmm, have the crap belted out of you or go to some silly talk by a priest of all things. God mate, no such thing. The easiest way to prove that is why didn’t my favorite team win a game last year, see! Move over.

The priests name was Father Veri Bent, Veri being short for Veritas of course. Father Bent told us he came from the Church of Saint Generic Brand where all religions are tolerated and the only rule is you don’t proselytise, what ever that means. Father Bent was promoted to Bishop and so there would be vacancies for any “kind hearted” boys out there. Get me out of here was all I could think. Religion is best left until the kiddies are at least 45, sound familiar, well at least it has some continuity but not much.

Later, Billy said “Sandy, I’m going to become a priest at that church, you know from that bloke, Monsenior  Bendover or whatever”
“Surely you jest” I jested.
“Nah think of it” said Billy, “they feed you, provide you a house and all you have to do is wear a funny gown and listen to people’s problems, yeah…” dreamed Billy.

Authors Notes.

[1] Go for it.

[2] Interesting, my sense of humor is usually a bit obtuse but I like that gag. I did admire most of Glenn Robins work, well I believe it was him on Comedy Company???

[3] Thanks to the writers of the Foodge series changing the word Police to Pleece for ever. I’ve even told my spell checker to go away and except it, well I didn’t really but you know under forty fives could be watching without parental control, never know and we don’t want to use swear words now, do we.Scary.

I’m the one not in the photo

Yes well hello. This is the beginning I suppose so I guess that you will all want to know what has happened. I was born, hmm, no, I mean yes, I was born but perhaps we don’t want to go there, well not just yet. Look, lets get down to facts. This is true fiction and no lies have been added to this story unless it has been necessary and it seems it has been necessary quite a lot.

My name is Sandy, well sort of, my real name is Alexander however I prefer Sandy. I mean lets face it, Sandy is better than Alex or Al or something. One reason I prefer Sandy is acronyms, yes acronyms. See my real name is Alexander Leonard Lyndhurst O’Way, ALLOW, dreadful isn’t it, so over time I have developed a love hate relationship with acronyms. Anyway as the story develops you will see what I mean.

So yes, I was born at the Inner Cyberia Hospital(ICH) and as little kids we couldn’t resist putting a “T” in there to make it ITCH as we all reckoned that if you ever went to hospital you always came home with an itch. Sorry, what was that, you have never heard of Inner Cyberia? Well it’s next to Middle Cyberia and on the other side of Outer Cyberia. Pretty simple really. Anyway I was born at the ITCH and unfortunately taken home by the wrong family. See I was born right on change of shift which immediately put me off side with the staff. Nurses hate having to do anything during hand over and guess what, that was me. Well my new family were Chinese and they named me Zing Zang however they gave me a nick name, Nick, phew, imagine trying to explain away Zing Zang when the local bullies are just about to bash you.

My dad, Walter, a very wealthy man, was a watch maker and he was very proud of his shop “Walter Wong’s Watches” (WWW) being displayed across the front in large letters. “One day all this will be yours Nick ” he would say. Well dad, my name is actually Zing Zang but hey, never call me a pedant as I don’t even know what that means. I think you have it on toast for breakfast, pedant butter and funny, yumbo.

My dad was always looking to get richer. He used to tinker with computers and one day at a large family gathering my Dad said “You know, one day computers will communicate with each other via the phone line, the information will be broken up into packets and reassembled at the other end.” “Preposterous!!” came the cries and the next day the men in white coats, other wise known as purse carrying nancy boys, came and took my dad away.

Soon after that the police arrived. My mum was feeling bad because she missed dad but more importantly she had just broken a fingernail, as you do, and the policeman said “Mavis” that’s my mum’s name, “Mavis you’ve brought home the wrong child from the hospital” “Yes, that’s right the Wong child, my Nick” replied mum in her broken English. “No the wrong, wrong child” emphasised the policeman “He’s a Wong” said mum, “No wrong, w.r.o.n.g. child meaning Nick isn’t yours” and so I was taken away to my new family, Farter and Mafarter O’Way.

My new family were poor but really good to me. They didn’t eat fish and rice like the Wong’s but lamb and potatoes instead. My dad was a Traffic Control Officer with the Main Roads dept., otherwise known as a lollipop man, good for a lick for a zac[2] to go to the shop, and my mum was a farmer’s daughter. But, my English teachers will cringe with me starting a sentence with but, but hey, who gives a fun, then they went and named me Alexander, hmm.

This was all very different and it took me a long time to adjust. The great thing was that my first mum and dad became good friends with my second mum and dad, so in the end I had two sets of parents. Farter and Walter would debate every issue under the sun while Mafarter and Mavis would trade recipes and take turns at cooking the main dinner, life was pretty good. And of course the real Zing Zang was nicknamed Billy, Billy Wong, hmm.[1]
One day the Wong’s came over, with sad faces, to tell us that they were moving to Outer Cyberia. Walter got a good job offer in charge of trying to put and egg back together that had fallen from a wall, so he took it.

Now let me tell you, you know how some things are a long way, well Outer Cyberia was a long way plus a bit, like another long way. See what I mean. Perhaps even further then a long way, maybe it might even been further then Coals(Thanks Dave)[5] an, an, and you may not even eat cannibals, whats this world coming to, next there will something good on TV except Aunty and her little cousin

More to come so grit dem teeth and laugh so hard you hurt. Please avoid consuming liquids when reading this story. Your cat and keyboard may end up hating you.

Authors Notes

[1.] Think about it

[2.] I think a zac was sixpence and then became five cents, robbed again as usual. You can see that I am still bitter and twisted about 1966

[3] I have no idea about what this story is about but I’m having fun, hope you are.

[4] I dedicate this story to Helvi who gave me much support and encouragement to get Father O’Way into space and to the WDAPAW Crew who have all contributed ideas for the hapless Sandy

[5] Thanks Astyages, loved that one of yours for a long time

A photo of Mr and Mrs Bishop at the beach however when this photo was taken they were busy in the shed, hmm.

Hi, handsome here, er, um, oops, nah, sorry folks just me Sandy. Anyhoo I’ve told the Bishop to go and get fu..

[Cut, cut, cut. Mike, the editor here. Look Mark, remember, we had a deal about the eff word and sunshine I did say a “fun” adventure please, everyone is dying to hear from Sandy and all you want to do is sit around all day, drink beer and eat pizza, for Gordon’s sake man, grow up!]

Yes well then to go an, to go and, oh, to go and get fun. Yes, that’s right, I told the Bishop to go and get fun, as you do. We all like fun I suppose, I mean I do, I think, not really sure yet but I guess the past tense of fun would therefore have to be funned. Taking this to an extreme extrapolation, I could get home from a hard day in space and kiss the beautiful Belinda, deeply, passionately and, if lucky, x-ratedly and say,

“I missed you darling…

!!!!STRICT WARNING: There is certain dictionary found on Earth that contains a rather scary definition of the word “missed”. It’s definition number 7 actually, page 1114, see it, middle of the page. See what I mean!

The Church of St Generic Brand wishes to advise that any viewer that may be offended by words appearing on any computer chip device are advised to look away now.

FAILED TO HIT

You must keep this a secret from kiddies until they are at least 45 years of age.!!!!

This stunning fact could lead to many a divorce or prison term. I missed you darling may then come with some sinister undertones, hmm, I digress which by the way is the only thing I am good at, just ask me.

“Anyhoo” I continue “I slayed a few dragons, broke a ruthless despot in two with my bare hands, you know darling, the usual sort of stuff.”

Hmm, such subtle understatement of my lofty achievements that my modesty may prevent me from telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me Gordon. Well unless a convenient piece of confabulation comes to mind.

“That’s good dear” perfuncts Belinda. “Was it fun my little sweet cheeks?”

“Well, to be honest honey, I’m far, ah, afrh, ah, funned, that’s it, I’m funned sweetie.”

See, that’s how simple it can be. Well, I guess that’s me.

Now, I have to get the Bishop to have some fun. Do you know why? Because the Bishop thinks that if all of us patrons at the Arms, just stop for five minutes and read something really absurd and laugh, it will all do us the world of good. Pity the Bishop smokes too much of that green stinky stuff if his pipe but hey who gives a fun.

I’ll prove my case. Here are some cherry picked quotes that I have received over the years that show, beyond doubt, that anecdotal evidence is simply far superior to the scientific method. Earth flat right? Sure is.

“Mate, I was reading your story and laughed so hysterically hard that the lager I was consuming came out my nose and on to the keyboard, snot and all. Worse thing was it was a race between me and the cat to see who could lick up the most…” DCI Rouge, Inner Cyberia Pleece Force.

“Mate, I was reading the comment above and laughed so hysterically hard that the lager I was consuming came out my nose and on to the keyboard, snot and all. Worse thing was it was a race between me and the cat to see who could lick up the most…” DCI Rouge, er um Foodge, Inner Cyberian.

“Mate, I was reading the comment above and laughed so hysterically hard that the lager I was consuming came out my nose and on to the keyboard, snot and all. Worse thing was it was a race between me and the cat to see who could lick up the most…” DCI Rouge, er um Foodge, Inner Cyberian, um, D.G O’Hoo, Buggered if I Know.

See what I mean and that was only three.

[Cut, stop, no one move. Mike here again. Mark there were only three comments and all came from Foodge et.al. and lets face it, that mob just lack continuity.]

I guess we could send the Bish on an island holiday but knowing him he will fall over after one too many pipes and then whinge about the bill. To make matters worse, Gordon pays the bill anyway as all the money in the galaxy belongs to him, hmm.

Hey I have an idea. Teach kids a musical instrument. I do. Kids come to me and say,

“Hey Sandy, will I ever play the blues like you?” they inquire.

“Sure son” I say, the eternal optimist in me always persists “Just spend 20 years in your bedroom practicing, have a shit life, get divorced, bashed senseless and shot at. Then buy a high quality bottle of tequila and some pot and you’ll play the blues.”

Okay then, so Bish go and have some fun.

Authors Notes.

[1] This story does not reflect the views of the author. It is simply humour. And anyway I prefer Johnny Walker Blue label.

[2] Gordon is the creator of the universe. He is a scientist from another dimension and is studying the Milky Way for his PhD in Astrophysicists. Gordon, is Gordon O’Donnell and hence GOD.

[3] Belinda is Sandy’s wife.

[4] The Bishop heads the parish of St Generic Brand in the see of Inner Cyberia. It was established by Gordon to tolerate all religions for all people as long as you don’t proselytize.

Picture by Warrigal

Ring, ring, ring ring. Bloody hell these phones waking you at such an early hour of 11 am. Don’t you wish they would put a silence button on these things or what. You know it can only be one person, the Bishop, we all call him the Bish.

“Yes, hello Bish what on Earth do you want at this ungordly hour?”  I ask as I know it will be something he wants me to do. I mean does this guy never stop, ringing at zarking 11 am. He must get up at daybreak, I’ve heard of people that do that, weird.

“Where’s Hung?” roars the Bish.

“Um, he can’t come to the phone right now as he is busy typing this story.” I reply.

“Arrrgh, well Sandy get to Mars, they have found ice on Mars”  declares the Bish. Wow,big deal.

“Did you say Lice? The itchy thingy”

“No, you ninny, ice, you know, that thing you put in your scotch”

Yes, I always wondered what they were. You know those little cube thingys. I’m sure some scientist has figured it out by now.

“We must be careful Sandy” said the Bish in hushed tones “You see we think this may be taken over as a demonstration by Tony Abblahblahalot.”

“But the itchy thingy is much easier to treat and it means I can stay in bed” I plead uselessly.

***

You guessed it, I’m on my way to Mars and the crew are a bit miffed let me tell you. To them, Mars is down the street and around the corner, can’t you walk.

The central computer starts blabbing on about a toxic atmosphere down on the surface and puts some pictures on the screen. Just as the Bish said, Tony Abblahblahalot and some supporters are down checking out the lice, oops, I mean ice.

I detach from the main craft in a small surface vessel. Apparently us humans get scared when other people materialise in front of them. You know like when you walk down the street and you see the best man from your wedding coming towards you, the best man that vomited all over the table and caused a fight in the foyer, so he crosses the street and pretends not to see you just like you have materialised and then dematerialised. See what I mean, is that scary or what.

The vessel pulls up next to the crowd all dressed in their space suits. You know there is no oxygen on Mars but let me tell you it doesn’t stop some from being windbags. They were carrying signs like “Cold for Life” with the word cold crossed out and replaced by Coal. I’m sure you get the metaphor or whatever it is.

The crew quickly set up a table and some chairs. They place bundles of paper on the table. I approach Tony Windbag, oops, I mean Tony Abblahblahalot who is laughing his head off,

“I waz just telling the blokes, no women here is there, nah, didn’t think so, that I’ve added salt to the water here on Mars as salt is good for you” says Tony.

“Why have you added salt?” I ask inquisitively.

“Well, I’ve stopped the boats, axed the tax and it’s all Labor’s fault, blah blah blah blah blah” replies Tony.

“No” I affirm “Why have you added salt to the water here on Mars?”

“Well, don’t you watch David Ratinburrow, ha ha, see right, he showed these goats right, he he, you know goats right, ha ha ha, that walk down a steep hill right, guffaw guffaw, once a week to eat salt. Love that bloke, believe every word he says.” says Tony with tears welling in his eyes.

“But David Ratinburrow is a staunch supporter of doing something about man made climate change yet you oppose it” I prod.

“David Ratinburrow is a dickhead mate and has no idea what he is talking about” declares Tony. Wow, any one heard the term blackflip.

I seize my moment “Attention every one” I broadcast ” Over at the desk my crew have some really cheap shares for you in a company called Yet Another Ponzi Scheme(YAPS[Had to fit one in somewhere]). YAPS will have totally collapsed by the time you pass but you will become filthy rich in a very short period of time and the poor will be left to pick up the bill.”

The crowd rush to the table and as each person signs the crew euthanises them, oops, puts them to sleep for their return to Earth but not before Tony beat them all to the desk to buy his fill. Oh, yes, some things never change.

I’m back on the ship and we are about to head for Earth and I have a seat in the Bats Droppings, our local pub on board, and oh the $64,000 question, is there ice on Mars? Of course there is. I’ll show you,

“Barman may I have a scotch on the rocks please?”

“Certainly Sir”

See  told you, now a priest wouldn’t lie would he? Would he!

This is Father Sandy O’Way, signing off from Mars for the Church of St. Generic Brand, Inner Cyberia.

First published: https://hungsworld.wordpress.com/2015/10/03/father-oway-is-there-lice-on-mars/