Mustard Shampoo

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– “Oh no Frances, don’t do that again! It’s only Tuesday…. What time is it?”

– “Early enough, and listen to this, it says Venus is aligning with the Moon today, and small events stemming from Capricorn’s innate daryness  will pamper you with a stream of luxurious payback…. can you translate this?”

– ” It means I need three spoons of sugar in my coffee today, stewardess!”

– “Oh.. I forgot to tell you, yesterday: we’ve run out of coffee.”

– “aarrrggghhhh…. check inside Tommy’s lottery box- if he’s still snoring…. you might find a couple of free coffee samples, as the horoscope suggests…”

– “I’m afraid I can’t, it says here- geminis  need to emphasise on time keeping today, or else  we may have to face self-piling workload.”

– “ok. Don’t forget the Arabica mild roast on your way back.”

– “I’ll write it on my hand. Bye! Don’t fall back asleep lucky capricorn!”

By a chance of luck, as I reach for my phone…. the battery’ s dead. Frances saved me again, because I had set the alarm  buzz for seven am.

Through the window I watch her walk away in a confident hurry, sporting a purple uniform and her favourite yellow crocs.

–  “Frances, I’m not a Capricorn, I’m a Sagittarius!!!” My words are trashed away by the noisy rubbish truck.

*          *          *

The boss has given us an extra lunch half hour, and once again the receptionist wants me to take her sample-hunting.

– “Let’s have lunch first, I suggest, there’s no queueing at the food stall right now. They said there might be a storm.”

– “What, is that what Francesca read on today’s horoscope?”

– “Don’t be jealous of her. She’s had it hard.”

– “And so have we all. Three samples for me and only one for her!”

– “Hot dogs?”, Asks the food stall lady.

– “Two for me with no ketchup, loads of mustard,  extra napkins and chopsticks please!” Anita’s not pulling her leg.

– “That will be eight pounds fifty, just eight pounds for you.”

– “I ‘ve not got enough coins…. so: Same order please,  but without the hotdogs!”

–  “Ummm… One seventy five, two seventy five, three pounds for you! And a hotdog on the house!”

– “Same for me please.”

– “Look, there’s a new bench there. Quick, grab it girl!”

I hesitate to ask then brave the question:

– “Anita, can I enquire…. why won’t you eat without chopsticks?”

– “They make me feel slender. That’s it.”

– “Oh, must be a precious feeling for a millennial female.”

– “Ok,  Capricorn! it’s beauty goodies time!”

– “But you only had mustard for lunch!”

– “Yes, I needed to make up for the free granola bars they were handing out at the station. Here, I took a couple for your pretty Frances.”

– “Thanks. We ve got twelve minutes left. Put some lipstick on, off we go on a lucky errand….. hey, I said lipstick, not Mustard!”

*          *          *

Anita was sniffing all the new shampoo and conditioner cute bottles, not lending an ear to me.

– “Do you do Mustard shampoo, Madame?”

– “Mustard shampoo? Not as far as I know. But our latest cinnamon edition shampoo and conditioner in one is your closest bet. Let me ask my supervisor anyway.”

Leaving all the bottle lids halfway screwed, Anita looks high on exotic essences.

– “Please Sir, could you be kind enough to fill in our creative suggestion form, and very importantly, your email address, because we are treating you with this season’s sample case.”

–  “But we’re late to work…”

– “No worries – I can quickly  fill it in for you,  because I am impressed with the beautiful shine on your girlfriends hair.”

– “Don’t misspell your email address again!” Anita the spoiler sometimes behaves like she’s my girlfriend.

Mission exceeded, we two colleagues are pleasantly excited  by what items we got inside the gift bags.

We hear a thunderbolt.

It’s raining so heavily we have to stay under the porch, dodging the upset bargain shoppers who only want a square inch of shelter.

The rain grows thicker and cooler. I’ll never forget the next five minutes, when Anita opens the coconut shampoo and the small crowd of shoppers instantly start querring about the product.

Anita wants the stage, and she starts foaming her hair under the storm.

I think they gave us an aphrodisiac instead of shampoo. Passers try and take pictures… but the rain’s too thick.

I cannot recall a sexier scene than my very professional receptionist washing her locks under the violent spring shower. I want to ask her what her sign on the horoscope is.

Anita needs not to feel jealous about any single millennial or trillinial chick. The girls got it.

Before the rain recedes the receptionist’s head is wrapped in a newspaper.

A rain scent still lingers on her- even today,  as all customers keep boomeranging back to our shop.

*           *          *

On my way back after work, I don’t bother to collect free papers to cut out the horoscope for Frances, as I’ve been fed up of doing for the past couple of years. All I can think of is brushing with Anita’s hair. I forget to pop into the supermarket to get a coffee jar for the flat. I even forgot Frances’ gift bag!

*         *          *

The flat door is unlocked and I am hoping it’s not  some burglars coming to steal toilet rolls. There’s sachets of mustard over the kitchen table. Frances treating my Anita again as a gesture of fair competition.

– “Thanks, Frances! Frances, you in?”

She sneaks out from Tommy’s bedroom. I pretend not to notice. The keetle beeps.

– “Who got the coffee?”

– “Tommy won a tenner on the Lotto! Says Frances, bottoming her uniform.

– “Well done.  Can I keep the change?”

The evening is light as usual,  lifting the work fatigue just when it’s time to sleep.

I could have guessed! These geesas  are a couple! No wonder they don’t mind me being three months behind the rent…

What other stuff is to be discovered this week? Do I have to peep on one of Frances’ horoscopes to find out?

*          *          *

Two weeks later, and as I am still scratching the love bite, a couple of emails come in at once.

One from the landlord, and one from the beauty store. Bad news is landlord going on a gap year so wants one years rent ahead, good news is we won the two shampoo recipe contests. I only submitted one- shampoo with rainwater…

Over the phone, Anita can’t believe her luck, and starts laughing and laughing,

– “I made up a mustard shampoo formula, just as a joke….. I didn’t even test it…. can’t believe we won the grand, plus the lifetime supply of beauty products!”

Well, it’s all typed somewhere in cyberspace. As for me I need to find a new room. The grand comes in handy.

– “You moving out with Frances?”

– “Nope!”

– “Then come to my block! there’s a free room on the second floor sharing with some dictionary animals…. sure they ‘ll love the mustard shampoo….”

– “Thanks.  I ‘ll check the horoscope and get back to you.”

– “No probs, Capricorn! I’ll be practising on a new sardines moisturising cream formula as a good bye prank to Frances – while you make up your mind…… gosh you really got me into this.”

– “Just to remind you girls once again, I am not a Capricorn, but the lucky Sagittarius…”

The End

Keep the competition happy!

 

 

 

Secret Flowers, Dreadlocks and Blueberry Muffins.

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Once upon a dream there was a very special blueberry tree.

Its fruits refused to blend into muffins so they only showed at night, when they talked funny gossip about the garden bugs’ adventures.

And everyday, at nine o’clock, the flower delivery guy stole a fruit, dropped a braid and hopped away, happy to keep Ron the gardener’s secret during one more shift.

But the secret would soon become a muffin.

The antiques dealer and her charming servant lived towards the West of the garden. They never got tired of receiving a delicate bunch of flowers from an anonymous sender.

No, the flowers were not for the mistress, but for her jolly loyal servant Milly, who used the flowers to keep busy pressing them into cards or diadems, or anything she could come up with… but what Milly did not like, was to bake half a dozen of muffins at night , for Ms Jane to enjoy breakfast with her time-rich clients.

– ” You haven’t told Milly, have you?” The gardener would enquire from time to time.

– ” Sort of…. NOT.” And so  Ron the gardener would mess up the flower driver’s dreadlocks.

– ” I hope I don’t catch you nicking the blueberries”

– ” It’s a small price for a secret”

– ” Are you suggesting Milly’s heart is of a small value?”

– ” Oh, no, I didn’t mean that…. I mean you need to water the blueberry plant with brandy next time, so they grow plumper…” said John, trying to redo all his hair.”

– “Same time tomorrow!”

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Ron the gardener had first met Milly on her third day of work, when she rushed to him for help to mend a Vase she dropped while dusting. The girl was so worried that she didn’t say a word while glueing the pieces back together, one after another, until the vase was whole again. He was still hoping for a chance to talk to her- but all he got was ironical messages sent back by John, such as

“Please could Mr Love talk John into a haircut instead of sending the fifty- eighth bunch of  gorgeous flowers. Thank you.”

*          *          *

One morning there were no flowers delivered to the doorstep. The two ladies felt surprisingly unspecial.

“I just wish my fan would actually turn out to be….. John.”

Later in the day Milly received a call from Ms Jane saying she would be late,  for a very fine deal had been reached for some new acquired goods.

No pretty flowers to do artwork that day. Milly felt like having a break, so she went for a stroll down the lane.

She saw John picking some berries.

– “Where’ s my bouquet? Has my admirer given up so easy?”

– “Hey Milly! You scared me! Do you want some blueberries? The gardener’s away- there’s a rumour he won the lottery last night!”

– “The….. what? ”

– “Yep! The lottery.”

What a strange day this was, thought Milly. Maybe it was another fib.

– “John! Stop chewing that dreadlock !”

– “ooops… don’t tell  Ron…”

– ” About you biting your own dreadlocks?”

-” No, silly! about the blueberries…”

– ” Actually, I was just thinking I might take some for tomorrow’s darling muffins…. you won’t say anything?”

– “I might…. NOT”. They both laughed as usual.

– “See you again tomorrow when you bring my fan’s art supplies”.

Just before she turned away from him, some familiar car brakes pulled like the sound of a nightmare snorer, just in time for Jane and the gardener to catch the conversation.

The stalky man stepped out.  The look he gave Milly was like two slaps accross her face…. This strong fellow with those  calm, cloudy eyes was the one sending the flowers everyday! Dropping the stolen berries from her skirt and all over the floor, she was even more vexed by the gardeners spontaneous gesture: he was helping her pick the blueberries!…..

Ms Jane, who knew her servant just like a daughter, could follow the full story.

The gardener was firm,

– “I experienced the archaeologist’s dream yesterday while pulling out some roots. The Council insisted I could keep the old coins, so I was planning to buy some land for you and I Milly,  and even build a flower art workshop for yourself, just so you needn’t bake a single more muffin again. I already had in mind a lady who would do the housekeeping for you. You were to me the freshest flower in the bouquet, but now I see you are an ungrateful blueberry thief who mocked my feelings while taking the gifts.

– ” I’m so sorry, I…..”

– You’re not sorry. Today we found out who my real lady is… one who you should have learnt from.

– “Don’t talk to her like that!” Said John, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, “She works hard everyday and cheers up my mornings!, and it was me who offered the blueberries just now…”

– “Then take her hand… take it! I shall ask for Ms Jane’s on my knees.”

After a brief exchange of amusing glances, both men fell on their knees. The ladies felt a warm blush of complicity.

A sudden gush of wind blew a few ripe blueberries away like confetti, while the happy bugs flew and crawled towards the spot where the fruit spilt over.

– “One more thing,  Ron continued, my lucky messenger, if you could spare a couple of hours this evening to do a spikey dreadlock coiffure over this foolish head of mine, and it looks good- I promise you – all four of us will enjoy digging more coins out from the soil… and then we can do a proper  sausages and blueberries barbecue!

The drivers behind, who had been listening while they waited for Jane to move her car out of the way, started to beep and cheer….

– “Hey, we’re engaged!” Cried Milly, “can’t you wait? And please don’t drive over our blueberries! I’m trying a new muffin recipe in the early morning!”

The End.

*       *       *

More posts coming soon

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The Feathered Drone

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Alex remained indifferent to the plague all the village was worried about, for he was the village fool…

Errands for you, and you! fix my car, polish Mr Quito’s shoes in three minutes…. only, and only, for a bunch of coloured feathers.

And everybody was fond of him, we could even say proud of him. But why he loved the feathers – people kept on asking each other. There were always jokes going on about Alex’ s feathers, and he didn’t really like that- but nevermind! He always got beautiful ones from friends returning from holidays or business trips.

One morning the fool heard a knock on the door. He was asked to dispose of his feather collection, as a precaution to take against the enigmatic plague going around.

His flatmate Manu managed to agree to give the feathers, only if these would be returned once the disease would receed.

Manu kept checking on him all day, in case he would be upset without his feathers.  But on his way back home,  he was absorbed by the colourful decorations on his friends’ garden trees, and statues…

– “Isn’t all this festive? Alex has been charging everyone with old curtains… instead of feathers!” For the first time in a month, people were cracking jokes again, distracted at last from the same topic.

A couple of weeks later many folks were happily helping him make his creations, and some ladies even asked them to do their garden doors up.

The sick started to take tiny walks out- just to admire the colourful, crazy new attire their old town was showing.

When the subject was raised at the village neighbourhood meeting, all agreed that, even if Alex had asked for permission prior to putting up the funny decorations, the artwork would be removed after the summer.

In need of nonsense, the people were getting more ideas just to stay away from the taboo subject- from taking the cattle on a stroll to wearing flower diadems- anything to show they were not afraid.

*          *          *

Mario’s car wouldn’t start after a long day training at the doctor’s surgery, so he called the strong Alex to help push it back home. Once by the porch, he told the fool

– “Make sure you wash and dry all that sweat off before you go to sleep!”

– “No need.”

– “What?”

– “No need.” Mario looked at him, and Alex explained,

– “If I keep the sweat then I will grow feathers!”

The car engine started as a comical sychnonicity of events, for the idea this silly comment had sparked in Mario’s scientific mind made him rush back to the surgery lab, to stay and work on it for the following weeks.

The decorations in town started getting exaggerated and lost their novelty charm. With the plague, they added to the confusion. So down they came.

The fool thought he wanted his feathers back: he walked to the surgery hoping to find Mario, besides there being rumours he wasn’t in town.

Mario was on the phone speaking some foreign, very weird language. Saying something about a “formula“. When he saw Alex, he smiled and rushed inside to get the box of feathers.

– “Aye! My feathers!”

– “We got something even better. Wait here five minutes.”

– “A drone! A drone!” People were clapping. More drones followed. Maybe these were bringing vaccines!

– “I’m going to sleep in my bed now- please Alex, don’t say anything.”

– “I won’t.”

– “Oh, I wanted to ask you…. well, I was slightly curious…. why do you collect feathers?”

Alex put his head down and turned sad.

– The feathers…. my feathers… well, it’s just that maybe one day I’ll get invited to one of those really funny dressing up parties…. so I’m saving up all the feathers for  my costume!”

The End.

There are other jolly means than monetary remuneration to celebrate your existence.

Thinking at the speed of Lightning

91630354-09D6-49DE-B062-B699EC559D05A relieving January feeling trespassed Rob’s twelve figure calculations as his business was retrieving new wings.

Sat at one of those new characterless franchise terrace cafes, he enjoyed that pleasant recalling of last year’s life-changing events.

No need to pull out his hat nor to charm his way to get a sheltered seat- the rain had started to embarass the locals again-  for those memories could beat a Netflix action film playing loud in a dark hotel room.

Those increadible twenty minutes under an impertinent heatwave in this same square at the coast town saved his son’s vibrating destiny.

I’ll narrate the events once more….

He was waiting for his coffee to cool diwn just to concentrate better on the a phone conversation with one of his suppliers, when there was a collective outbreak of shouting.

He had to follow the joy/fright to be able to distinguish what the turtle was going on there, when he was soaked with iced water at the medieval corner.

” Leave them, they’re thirsty!”

A pipe had burst on the road. As he whipped his eyes to see, a pullizter-prize like scene staged a very mixed-feelings atmosphere. He couldn’t even smile, for the joy that rushed through the people was explosive and brief.

The youngsters had already set their phones to video mode to capture the grateful yet very dishevelled foreigners who were drinking water.

”Heck! The ducks have just found a petrol well under their feet!

” I don’t think they even know what petrol smells like…”

Ranging from their late teens right into middle age, and dirty, almost toothless and dressed in dark worn eighties’ garnments, the brave men were trying to hide the fact that they were crying. The way they were drinking from the spree showed that this was their accostumed way of drinking, for all their bodies were shaking except for their strong hands.

The divine welcoming of overabundant civilisation was not what they had pictured all their lives, but they liked it.

Rob was now trying to profile them in origin and deeds, but these folks panther-like features along with a melodic way of expressing themselves made him fully sympathetic.

He thought that wherever they came from- that place would definetly become his family’s next holiday destination.

As the growing crowd mingled in that spontanoeous style that curiosity and wonder fuel easily, a couple of kids joined the water party. A bitter woman close to Rob ordered

„ Don’t get too near guys, they might have something contagious!”

That’s when the businessman’s spare brain locker popped open. He went on guard. His grandfather had fled war.

A desperate strange growl made silence around the square. One of the folks held a damp family photograph, and the rest started checking all their pockets for their own ones.

In no time at all two eastern european builders offered some napkins they had angrily snatched from the luxurious sandwich bar where that unscrupulous mother was sat, and as ever so grateful as these men were ,their most feared nightmare was threatning to come true- losing the photos.

As the builders efficiently showed them the snaps hadn’t been ruined, some media student asked her friend,

”Is the film crew here yet?”

That was enough. Reaching to his pocket for cash and then waved it to the smuggled, thirsty men -with no concerns over the the notes getting soaked, their eyes met for a lengthy second, enough for Rob to taste their dangerous and exhausting journeys.

Those eyes were  as eloquent as a drunk nutter’s.

”No, Dollars? Dollars? They didn’t reach for the money.

A TV van was approaching down the hill.

But Rob had already texted a mechanic he  knew around:

“Bring a large van fast thanks. “ and the young mechanic was there, buffled and not understanding a thing.

Rob’s potentiel friends or ennemies- he didn’t know yet- were still staring at the money with a question-mark twist when he attempted his best to save their lives from an unexpected disaster.

Pointing to the lorry and seeing there was the mechanic’s shopping  bags still inside at the rear, the builders joined to convince them to hop on.

Rob hadn’t even noticed that one  member of the group was a female who’s friends urged to jump in first.

The film crew lost sight of the van, its men and their four saviours and were asking questions to the dissappointed passer-bys.

Half amused and half scared, the immigrants were not repeating “Dollars” anymore but “Job” as they opened the groceries with curiosity and no greed.

It was later known that the peculiar group  fled a serious humanitarian situation and gained passionate working force strength once recovered from the journey.

*     *     *

The guys’ leader and his wife were employed as keepers at Rob’s mansion, but there was still a tricky task to complete.

They had to ask to remove the screening of a short documentary a reckless reporter had shot.

Rob’s always resourceful wife suggested to pass this work to Michael, their rebellious son, who had only been asking to drop school for the past two years.

If there do exist synchronicity events in some people’s lives, this could be another example: the media company got so fed up of Michael’s determination that they became somewhat intrigued by him…. and called him up for an interview.

But as he worked his new life through, distrust from the media drew him to study part- time,aiming for photography restoration course.

Since then the mechanic always keeps an extra large box of sandwiches, drinks and party baloons inside the  van.

Rob’s family is looking forward to a six week break at the foreign workers’ village. Never has a holiday been planned so enthusiastically!

But Michael has kept this information very secret at work…. and taking only his new camera to the trip!

The End.

Thanks for sharing!

More humour here.

 

Why we can’t help Blossoming

IMG_3202To you, the womb, the daisy and the pie

To them, the grooms, the lazy and the wild

A storm can bring oh such exotic seeds

Ugly froggies to kiss and a  very funny sneeze

Whatever you do wherever you are

The trace you leave around is glittery like stars…..

And it belongs to you! No matter what others believe

So keep doing your thing you ghost, sailor or sheep.

The End

To my lovely followers I apologise for the writing gap- yet gasping to hear from you all! Hope you are well and please don’t forget your very wecome personal comments.

Drawing by the author in felts and pastels.

C U SOON!!! Xxxxxx

More books here!

Dream Hard, Dream Real

tot-416967-unsplash-There you are, Candy! I rushed down here like a Bee. Actually managed to sneak out from the meeting by faking a resignation again. So this better be a real Emergency.

-They can’t roll the numbers without you, Amelia, you know you’ll never lose this job.

-Thanks. Arghhh. You’ve kept me flying since we were teenagers. My success is our success. Now! Straight to the point. What’s up? Why the braids and blue lipstick?

-I need a thousand for a lawyer.

-No problem. But I’m slightly curious. Are you in trouble?

Amelia noticed her best friend had tiger-like scratches on her arms.

-To make it short, Candy whispered, five months ago I went to the Natural History Museum.

-Oh, no. You’re pregnant?

All the customers sat at Starbucks turned their heads around.

-It’s worse than that. I needed the toilet but I saw a naughty spider in there. i didn’t want the spider to see me naked, so I went into a corridor and I pushed a “NO ENTRY” door, hoping there would be a staff clean toilet in there.

There was a door that looked like one and so I pushed it. You wouldn’t believe it. It was the archeological workshop! No-one was in. Only bones and fossils and microscopes. It was like travelling back billions of planet earth years.

-I see.

-This small little bone… I mean, it was so cute! I couldn’t resist. I slipped it into my corset. Then I just walked out.

-You got caught?

-I WISH!

-So what happened?

Candy started looking around wearily in case there were any undercovers about.

-I took the bone home and placed it under my pillow just as it said on that Wicca website.

Then I dreamed I worked for this really cool Advertising Company.

-Go on, time’s running up.

-On the next day I cleaned it with that Japanese Energy drink they sell behind the counter. Big mistake. Weird things started to happen.

-So you’re not pregnant?

-No. The bone must have actually been an Egg. A Dinosaur Egg. It’s growing. It’s a she. I named her Polly.

-Heavenly! Shall we take it to the Zoo?

The barista at Starbucks had already lowered the music volume and customers were pretending not to listen to the girl. What a nice vibe there was in there.

-If only it could talk! The thing is, I taught her how to use my tablet, she learned very fast, and then started ordering Hollister pants that don’t even fit her! With MY credit card.

-But is Polly good to you?

-Oh yeah, she loves a tease. But I’m left with this new big lovely burden and I cannot live with or without her. I need to sue the National History Museum for letting pervert spiders in their ladies restrooms.

-Now don’t blame the cleaners! You stole the egg!

-I thought it was just a bone.

-Okay, the bone! Amelia shot a glance at her watch and then grabbed Candy strongly by the fists.

-Tell me Candy, are you taking your zombie pills?

-I can’t! Polly loves them and gobbles the whole box as soon as it’s delivered to me!

At this point fellow coffee-lovers couldn’t hold it any longer and exploded very loudly into laughter. Candy felt embarrassed and desperately lonely again.

As Amelia sighed and reached for the emergency medication sachet she kept in her bag, the gentleman two tables to the right jumped up and cried

-Wait a minute! Don’t take that! You’re perfect as you are, Candy. Here’s a check for you to pay your debts. I run the top Advertising Firm in the US and Britain, and we need someone like you to start the day inspiredly. You just need to give us a casual speech each morning at 8 AM sharp. Burnout is common in the creative industries but I know that an open mind like yours, innocent and imaginative will give us that boost to keep fighting a fierce competition.

I’ll give you 24 hours to think about it, Miss Candy. Meanwhile I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed for a Yes. What do you say?

-Well, thanks, it’s a great offer, but I need to discuss it with Polly tonight- see what she thinks about this.

 

The End.

More humour here!

The Real Yo

geetanjal-khanna-81242-unsplashIt was only two weeks ago.

Shrek- the alias for this gangsta- was cursing his demons as his new BMW had been kept at the mechanic’s for another three days. Heat wave in London. Bus packed with stupid people wearing jackets in the city oasis. He wished he was the driver, sat comfortably at the wheel puffing the air conditioning. This lucky kid was going to drive all day, with no-one to disturb his blimin’ peace, and Shrek needed to get to Brixton Prison to visit that slave who messed up. Not to pay him his respects, but just to make sure he was going to keep his mouth shut.

On top of all, there was traffic, and a chubby fellow eating smelly curry.

How long until Brixton?!

The ganster was watching the traffic lights and trying to hypnotise them with rap rhymes in his head for them to turn green. “The Traffic light is giving way – I’m the Shrek and you all wait”.

Suddently the engines stopped and a young sophisticated woman broke the awkward silence.

“If you keep on staring at my toddler he won’t be able to direct the bottle to his mouth properly”.

The lady was bullying Nisha, a 24-year-old fallen star who was on a wheelchair after being given the wrong medicine in Bali, when on her Gap year. She had lost two limbs and was only surrounded by the very wrong people.

The fallen star, a mysterious dark self-controlled beauty about to explode like a mine, had abandoned her fate to Chaos’ will and only hoped her Aunt, a neurotic spinster who wanted to get credit for looking after her, would woman up and stop abusing her in public.

At this stranger’s provocation, Nisha casually said “If the bottle were filled with organic, non gluten, fair trade disgusting worms, the bloody baby would get a grip'”.

The grey Aunt stepped in “Sorry madame, but let me tell you my niece has lost it since she lost her legs, but she’s harmless, don’t worry.”

Shrek had witnessed the whole scene and his blood was pumping. Something ticked in his head. He efficiently pushed aside the old man standing on his way to the wheelchair and pram area, and took a deep breathe. Everybody was watching him.

“YOU!” he snapped. Nisha looked at him. A second and a half of eye-contact made Shrek’s unlawful life flash like a dart. She didn’t smile. Because her eyes were smiling. This was going to be the most important red carpet rolled ahead of her in her whole life.

“You two missis don’t speak to my friend no-more, and you posh lollipop fold your pram and remember to take the baby out first if you don’t want to breastfeed him with crack next time.”

People on the bus clapped around. The bus driver was watching on the CCTV and was too distracted to carry on at the green light. Cars were impatiently beeping.

 

Nisha still didn’t smile. Her eyes had the power. She had the power. Shrek was sure  a hot biscuit, and she wished she could take off his T-Shirt and see what was underneath.

 

“My name is Shrek, but you can call me Donnie, like no-one has called me since six years. Tell me now, where are you going? I’ll take you my Princess! We got all the time in the world! It’s a new beginning.

 

“Not so fast, Shrek” said Nisha. People on Bus 2 were laughing now, and he noticed a couple were recording the scene with their smartphones. “I wanna go to the Aquarium and feed this woman to the Sharks”. She pointed at her Aunt.

Shrek took a stash of cash from his pocket and handed it to the grey lady, who almost dripped saliva at the sight of it. “This is your late pay for looking after my Princess all this time. Now you go find me on Instagram, ShrekBiteTheAir and tell all her folks she’s not putting up with your crap anymore. And they better come visit everyday. Driver! To the Aquarium please!”

And as passengers cheered and some had tears in their eyes, the driver managed a C-turn, almost a U-turn to The Aquarium.

 

*     *     *

 

The night of the events was a guilty narration of Shrek and Nisha’s life, dotted with jokes among tears here and there. When Shrek told her he had been bullied and abused by his boxing trainer during the whole of his teens, and she refused to give him the pity look- the weight that flew off his shoulders came back to him like a dragon with wings, filling him with love, forgiveness, motivation, and a “I wanna to this thing and this thing and nobody ain’t stopping me now.”

“Do you wanna delete Alfred, Smurk, Hancuffer and Bigtits numbers before we get another Johnny Walker?”

“Yes my Princess, I’ll delete them even from my Soul but we ain’t getting any more Johnny Walkers. We got to get up early tomorrow cos it’s our new life. Early Bird Catch the Fish!”

 

“That’s right Donnie! Do I get a good night kiss?”

 

The End.

More humour here.

Thanks for sharing!

 

 

Do Not Laugh

Do Not Laugh?

Luckily for us two-legged hoarders it is legal to laugh. Almost everywhere.

 

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If life has battered you like a baseball and you cannot even remember the last time you laughed from the deepest of your diaphragm, I’ve got a few tips for you to reconnect to the funny side of baked beans on the bus seat and get you and those around you pumping oxygen without the need of steroids injections.

1- Laugh at yourself. Yes, it all starts here. Laugh at your warts, two left feet and botched highlights if you want to spark the fire.

It doesn’t matter who’s around you- your enemies will be disarmed.

2- Laugh at others with Love care and affection. No need to be scornfulumanoide-548392.jpg or humiliating. Make the subject of your jokes an innocent child. They’ll love it and they will laugh too.

3- Laugh when you’re on your own. Whether it’s remembering funny things or planning a joke. Don’t worry about pedestrians thinking you need to visit the shrink!

4- Make strangers laugh.

5- Read jokes books.

6- Watch comedies and cartoons.

7- Next time you Laugh, make sure you “disconnect” from your immediate environment: leave your hot tea mug on the nearest surface… then bend over and laugh til you’re out of breathe.

8- Don’t take authority too seriously.

9- Remember every little drama has it’s funny side. Look for it.

10- Take delibertely ugly Selfies and show them around- you don’t need to post them anywhere.

11- Speak out of your mind. Set your repressed unconsciousness free. You will soon learn that the first thing that springs to our mind is usually the right thing to say.

12- Remind your friends, colleagues and relatives about that joke they made that made you Laugh so much. This will create a comedy bond!

13- Keep your lungs as healthy as you can by reducing tobacco smoke and exercising more!

Thanks for sharing and have fun!

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More humour here.

https://amzn.to/2GH7P79

Sewing herself Slim

 

 

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Stella could still vividly recall the day she and three of her classmates were caught eating chewing gum and ketchup instead of going to the school meals. After the drama a dietician told her she was a “huge size ten”, squeezed her buttocks, and ordered her to follow the calorie diet on the black & white photocopy sheet- or else not to come back.

She wanted to be model, and she was only fourteen.

Her parents had given up her hopes on her becoming a Human Rights Lawyer.

A true beauty- style queen, the teenager had been taught sewing by Mary the home helper since a very young age. This asset pushed her classmates to befriend her only to borrow the garments for ” just one night out” and then pass them on to another girl instead of returning them to her.

The dietician had resorted to prescribe appetite suppressants to  the moody young girl. Pills that made her hyper, irritable and angry against Willy, who would bare going any length for a precious little minute sat talking to his crush.

Soon the pills had been removed from the market, and between auditions, applications and extra casting, Stella would experiment making “slimming drinks ” with all sorts of over-the-counter ingredients- from spirulina to shark and turmeric.[sociallocker][/sociallocker]

At 38, and having on her model curriculum only one photo shoot- which was because the chosen model had fallen ill and she was the only one available at 5 am that day- Stella survived making fashion accessories and disguises which she sold to fellow models and photographers.

The modelling world was  deceitful, inhumane and impossible to break into.  How much she now wished she would have taken up Mary ‘s offer of learning how to cook her secret family dishes.

One morning she woke up from an intense dream. Something about Willy and Mary helping her adjust a catwalk wedding dress. As she opened her eyes, the objects in her tiny trashy bedroom appeared to have a different glow, and the air was so filled with Love she wanted to chew it. “Just a nice dream ” she thought, and got back to her slimming potion making.

That same day at five she got a friend’s request from Willy on Facebook! He had become a successful financial broker- and…. damn! Had a family!

He asked to meet her that same day. She had to catch  two trains as his car was getting fixed. She had brought with her five samples of slimming remedies and was paranoid about being robbed of her million dollar secret on her way there.

Oh My God! Willy had grown old! He told her how good she looked, how she was still his highest fantasy, how boring his life was.

When she finally asked him to finance her “Slim’n’Smiling” slimming energy drink project, he took a serious look.

“I bumped into Mary at a Doctors surgery. She’s got poor health. She gave me her number. She was desperate to find you, ” her little girl “.

Willy handed her his phone and Stella broke into tears as she heard Mary’s voice.

” Come visit me please “said Mary.

Willy offered to take Stella to see Mary on Saturday, but that he needed her help on Sunday for his wife’s project.

” She’s starting a community to help disadvantaged girls learn a skill to become independent.  In this case, sewing. And Mary can teach cooking too when she gets better. What do you say?”

“Brilliant idea! Did you just say Mary will get better?” Stella’s eyes rolled.

” Sure she will, once she sees you! Now lend me that hippy scarf to show to my twelve year old, she cooked me mustard with jelly beans yesterday!”

 

The End.