The Puppy in Pesos

A Sign.

Kamila’s latest Designer bag acquisition had made her trip that morning and spill the coffee on her report.

Tiffany’s had only hired her because the Shorthand skills made her shine amongst all the other glamour-seekers, and they had even sponsored an accent softening course- just to add another humiliating milestone onto her CV.

To mingle with the team, online shopping with seven credit cards, along with photoshopped fake holiday snaps and jewellery bought off special bonus vouchers, all kept the adrenaline pumping and the debt collectors “bomb-mail”- as she liked to call it- coming in.

A week before one hot debt collector, Mark Stronner- she later found out this wasn’t his real name- had given in to all of her whining, crying, and quoting her dead grandmother just to carry out his plan.

Now he was hot. He told her he put his job at risk just to not spring clean her cosy bungalow. Always on time, answering whattsapps and popping by the dry cleaners’ to collect her non-matching suits, her grandmother would have been proud of her.

And he didn’t want to get intimate yet, because he “respected her so much”. The stupid strawberry blonde.

He was giving her gold-value information to dodge the bailiffs and to make her hair thicker with Organix shampoo, and crushing ice on it before using the blow-dryer. He loved this crushing ice bit on her mid-length hair, and she felt like a real cave-woman while he smashed it. That’s all the bodily interaction they got- so far.

 

A blonde with a dream, and a lazy bum with an even bigger dream. It added up to an unbalanced deal. But who was going to win?

One night Kamila’s grandmother appeared in her dreams again. She was whipping Mark with a rod like in the old days, with all her might- and Mark was giggling “don’t tickle me, stop tickling me nan!”. A Whattsapp from him woke her up- he wanted to meet by the river, at a particular place where there’s was lots of controversial graffiti. It was a CCTV dead corner.

So she called in the call centre for her first sickie. Now. Yes. She was excited. He was there talking to a hoodie who didn’t even bother to scan her and left on his bike as soon as Mark made some sort of gang-like sign.

Mark was serious. He looked like he was resisting to kiss her. They sat on the steps after he checked no one was coming by. He didn’t ask her how she was- yet even noticed the new Coach bag she got. Nor a  neon blue new streak on her forehead that cost her seventy quid.

Straight to the point. The destination was Colombia. They were going to go on a guaqueros journey, i.e digging graves for a treasure. He didn’t ask for her approval. It came across to her as a honeymoon gift from him. He marked the date and both their initials on a wall. Wow. The fool. The strawberry fool.

 

*     *     *

The journey to Cali felt as quick as a flash as he had packed little more than her blow-dryer and a desert kit. As they got to the Airport, a ridiculous hat he forced her to buy and wear was enough for her to say “for my Grandmother’s breathe!” out loud and make him laugh in a way he hadn’t before.

As they finally found their contact in the suburbs of Juanchito, Kamila and Mark stroke a connection while she took pictures of him smoking nervously and not being able to decide weather to eat gum, smoke or bite his nails. The contact called her “Mami” and Mark knew this business was going to go well.

But as Mark met him again for dinner- this time without Kamila, who wanted to defrizz her hair from the plane- Mark was tempted by the sexiest, most charming and eloquent devil-who-would-deliver.

They were going to become  Drugs Mules.

“What about the grave-digging? No time for that. Next time. Not good time of the year.”

“But that’s not what Rhonnie said?”

“You shut up you’re in my territory- if you don’t want me to get your girl pregnant with el Chupacabras.”

When he got back to the Hotel, with no cigarettes left, he found Kamila checking through his passport.

“Where’s the cigarettes?”

“Whose cigarettes? Mark Stronner’s or Adam Moland’s?”

“Don’t try to be clever because I’ve grown fond of you now. Where’s my cigarettes?”

” Mark, I just want you to tell me it’s not something nasty you’ve done before changing your name”

“We’ll have time for that. Hey! Your hair looks great. Here they are, the cigarettes. Lets go get some pics done. It’s like a boxer’s sauna in here.” He kissed her on the forehead for the first time and took that ridiculous hat off her head.

“I’m gonna teach ya how to set boundaries, Mami. You’re grandmother aint here to watch over you anymore.”

*     *     *

As she tied her hair in a messy, prove-the-point bun and showed a feather-lighe interest towards his life story, Adam- not Mark-  made a full confession, which was nothing to be seen on crime watch. Just a kiddo wanting to be Pablo Escobar in Hackney then finding his own was to pay the bills.

He stopped and bought her an indigenous necklace.

“You look great to me like this. Post it in Instagram, see how many likes you get. You don’t need that Tiffany mechanic gear no more. Here, dare to ditch that gold in the sewer.”

 

She pretended she did but with a trick her grandmother taught her she sneaked the gold inside her shoe.

 

As they got to the Hotel, and the likes on Instagram were popping, they found the door open and a stuffed Chupacabras toy.

 

“Don’t ask questions, we’re catching to first plane to London tomorrow.”He said.

“How about the grave-digging?”

“You wouldn’t like someone digging into your nan’s grave in three hundred years’ time, would you?”

They went to sleep again with no body contact. Only in the morning, she found him with his arms curled around her when the smartphone melody started off.

 

*    *    *

The events at the airport were like falling off a rollercoaster and getting caught at the last minute by a drone. At customs, a massively wide female security officer asked whose the Chupacabras was. A new alter ego emerged from the glamour-ridden girl

“It’s my grandmother’s, Mami”.

The big woman asked whose the jewels were. She said

“It’s the Chupacabras”.

 

“Aqui Ustedes se separan” Meaning in Spanish they would be split there.

 

A Shar-Pei puppy sniffing Kamila’s terror in the cell became extremely friendly with her. All charges dropped. The security officer had asked the girl if she could have the teardrop opal earrings for her granddaughter.

She also said Mark had gone into a fit while begging the officers to let “his girl free” and that the officers made a jolly good thirty minutes’s fun while torturing his mind.

 

As they ran along the gates with the officers not to miss the plane, Mark (or Adam) couldn’t stop sobbing as Kamila was dragging him “Come on, you can run!”

 

It was the last minute and as a fact of destiny the star-pei puppy sneaked onto the plane. Nobody had noticed under all that confusion.

 

It was only when the plane was high up in the sky away from the sight of all the chupacabras that the puppy jumped onto the lucky couple’s lap and licked Mark’s tears off.

“It’s going to be a long journey, Mark.”

“Yes, and as soon as we get to London I wanna get rid of that chupacabras toy.”

“And I want to get of the blow-dryer”

“But not the puppy!” They both cried.

 

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!

 

 

The Children’s Hospital

IMG_1951votenow-2-transIMG_1951Despite the pain and drain that come from working at the Children’s Unit of St Patrick’s Hospital, Tricia loved every minute of her job. She called the children “my kids”. Her life and soul.

Bringing joy and confort to ill kids was like a job she was given by a star constellation since birth.

Since Dr Bailey joined the Unit she found that fighting for the well being of her kids despite the budget cuts was easier- and also he had once recommended her to take two more hours sleep if she wanted to look after the patients in the best way.

Tricia was the star nurse, also envied by her colleagues for her imagination and gift to tune into kids’ waves: when they felt pain, she would ask “what’s the name of this new pain?” and create a character for it.

Whether in the tummy, head or leg, she had elaborated a way to hypnotise the pain dead. “OK. The pain is called Dragon. Lets make him.” After stuffing a blue rubber glove and painting a face and name on it, she would smile and say “tell the Dragon to stop annoying you, or else we’ll punish it into the tissue box “.

“Stop annoying me, Dragon! Or I’ll snatch your ears off!”

“Watch out, he might spit fire from his mouth. Lets muzzle him.”

The fascination of the children pulled them out of their pain, as Tricia put a plaster onto the Dragon ‘s mouth.

“Do you want to sing a lullaby to the Dragon?”

“Maybe next time! The pain is gone and I wanna sleep!”

Eight year old Nathan was admitted and Dr Bailey stole Tricia for a minute “we’ll do our best to save him”.

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Nathan’s mother couldn’t help giving Tricia nasty looks but Tricia had gone through situations like that before. Nathan developed the habit of telling the ” pain glovies” that ” you are not coming to the wedding.”

“what wedding is this?” Tricia would ask.

“wait and see.”

But one day on an early shift at five AM, Nathan starting crying very loud. Tricia and Dr Bailey happened to be on shift.

” The tube hurts, said Nathan, lets kill it or it will not come to the wedding!”

” What wedding are you always talking about? asked an exhausted Dr Bailey.

” Yours and Tricia’s Wedding!”

The two health professionals looked into each others eyes during a very awkward second.

” OK, said the Doctor, ask the Gremlin to make me an engagement ring or we shall soak it under the sink!” So Nathan opened a plaster and Dr Bailey proposed. Despite the surrealism of the scene Tricia saw a sparkle in Dr Bailey’s eyes that she had never seen before- he was actually proposing to her, right there, in front of Nathan and the Gremlin.

After a tearful Yes, Nathan clapped with excitement, just as a healthy eight year old would, and continued

“The pain is gone! I can sleep forever now!”

” None of that” said Tricia

” I was only joking. Now lets make the Gremlin a girlfriend in case he comes back”.

Nathan was luckily discharged three days later, but strict Hospital rules determined there could be no contact with children after Hospital episodes- so he missed the wedding.

Shortly after, the Baileys received a Thank You card from Nathan’s mum and a picture showing him plummer, in his  bedroom with a dozen of stuffed gloves.

Tricia soon started training nurses in Hospital Play and their first born was named Nathaniel- after Nathan.

It is sad to think that not all Hospitalised children have Nathan’s luck, but there are amazing professionals and volunteers in these Units as children deserve to feel a sense of wonder, even if they will not survive.

The End

This story is based on true characters.

 

 

London’s Pink

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“I promise I won’t be long Candy, just going in there to get us some Marshmallows!”
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Honey? I won’t make it to the hallowe’en party!
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Two baby Unicorns are born in London again
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Two legs bouncing on four wheels!
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Friends will be Friends[sociallocker][/sociallocker]
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Don’t we Love London?!
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If only there were benches in London

Pain Heals Pain

Pain heals pain. This struck her tormented mind with Light.

 

Her cat had been at the Vet’s for almost a week. Memories of an unhappy upbringing had been strangling her throat throughout this time.

Forgiving was materially impossible,  forgetting was a dream and finding some sort of justice would not help a grain of rice.

She had “luckily ” found a stuffed toy to stroke- instead of the cat- the day before.

Outside Agent Provocateur she stood,  trembling under the rain so even her umbrella seemed to be shaking, with a two hundred quid in her pocket which she had kept for six months- for an emergency.

Under the lights of Soho, she knew what she needed. A good painful spanking. And she was about to purchase the nastiest SM outfit, including the Whip.

 

The only way out of Pain is a new kind of Pain.

Because Pain plus Pain equals Pleasure, the same way Pleasure plus Pleasure voids Pleasure.

That’s the wheel of Life.

When she was about to go inside with all sorts of plans of going into the local parlour to entertain strangers, she heard a familiar voice.

“I’ve got exactly what you need here.”

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“An SM outfit and whip for free, plus a good spanking?”  She thought. But Life can bring wishes beyond our expectations, at times.

She turned around. A tall figure with wet hair and loving eyes was smiling at her. It was the Vet.

“Here’s Snowy your cat. I was looking for you. He woke up from his coma this morning but your phone was off. Now darling- you two go back home and please don’t you ever come back to this place.”

A tear of joy danced its way down her cheek as she felt the weight of her comforted cat.

“I won’t.”

The End

Lipstick lasting seven Kisses

Her best friend calls her a compulsive polygamist.

 

She just can’t do without nine guys on the speed dial.

Like a magician shuffling his cards craftily, she fits in all the men into her semi-chaotic, semi-super organised schedule.

 

Blonde wig fot Danny,  change home routes after slapping Stewart goodbye, play the broke student with Phil, French accent for Thomas… and no cheat sheets inside the cupboard!

And she uses the same pet name for all nine. Ugly-duckling.

 

It’s not second nature to her. It is first nature.

When she breaks up with one she whines like a teenager and forgets about the remaining eight. Love- unexplained. That’s when she calls her mother.

He extreme feminity, and occasional outbursts  of masculine-like anger intrigue even herself…

But how she makes a living is not obvious.

 

She is a Spy.