Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Oh no! Don't answer that...


phone!
Doomed, I'm doomed I tells ya.
Alright, after the beer drinking, hoarse, shouting match last night, the Paramour naturally stayed over to...er celebrate the win in style.
So this morning a stiff and ever so slightly hungover paramour was stumbling around the sittingroom looking for his keys, pants, underwear and whatever else was scattered around.
I was asleep, buried under the duvet, dreaming of horses . In the distance I thought I heard a jangle. My horse looked at me.
'I think that was your phone' he said in a strangely accented morose voice. I kicked him in the flank and we leaped a six bar gate and began to race across a meadow, fleck of sweat and streaks of foam, his breath white in the freezing air, my hands tangled deep in his mane.
Quiet horsey, none of your lip!
But then I thought I heard a muffled 'hello?'
My horse whinnied and the meadow shimmered and lost its solidity.
Then I definitely heard. 'oh, hello there, ha, ha, yes I'm the, ha, yes the boyfriend. Oh no, really? Well I'm sure...no she's alseep, would you like me to...'
Aiiieeeeeee!!
I leaped out of bed and ran, flying, hair streaming, up the hall, taking the corner hard, skidding slidding, breasts free and jiggling, into the sittingroom.
Paramour pulled a face. 'Sorry' he mouthed at me. 'Um huh,' he actually said out loud, to my mother-for it was she- who was now in full flight.
'Oh.' I said, and like a tyre that has been slashed. 'oooohhh' I collapsed bare-arsed onto a rather cold leather chair.
Eeek, cold. My ankles twined aroud each other in misery.
I watched the paramour as he tried to escape. But to escape one must be able to speak, and to speak one must be able to get a word in and to get a word in my mother would have to shut her yap for two seconds and to do that she would need to draw breath, which, for some strange reason, she does not need to do.
I watched him nod, pace, nod, glance towards me, look at his watch, nod, say 'Uh hum yes I see' pace, glace despairingly at his watch again, until I could stand it no longer.
I leaped up- ow, -my arse had warmed up the leather and I kind of stuck to it- snatched the phone from him.
'Novice' I mouthed at him.
'Nice tits' he mouthed back.
'Mum!'
'Ohhhh, awake are we?' My mother said in a voice so gloatingly delighted I almost flung the phone out the window.
'Yes I'm awake, and I'll call you back in a while.'
''Your boyfriend sounds lovely.' She said, putting a slithering emphasis on 'sounds'.
'Yes.' I said.
'You know your brother is home tomorrow.'
'I know.'
'I thought we might head over to the house, make sure there's enough sheets and towels. I didn't realise you had...company.'
I swear, I could actually hear her filling her teeth, ready to take her pointy bloodsucking nips.
'Right.' I said.
'So I'll be up that way, you want to come over to the house with me? We should probably get a few bits and pices in, put milk in the fridge, I'm sure neither your brother or his wife (hiss hiss) will feel like shopping when they get here.'
'Right. Okay the I'll give you a hand.' I am cursing. Her, my brother, the paramour, me for having a phone.
'Good, then you can tell me all about your little guest there.'
My skin prickles.
We agree a time and I hang up.
'Sorry.' My little guest looks slightly forlorn, 'I don't know why I picked it up, I was half asleep and it-'
'It's all right.' I say.
'She sounds nice.'
I roll my eyes. 'Yep. She sounds-' I do a little slithering of my own- 'just dandy.'
I kiss him good bye and wander off to the bathroom. As I run the shower I wonder what sort of afternoon I will have. With my mother, already vicious about my brother's new bride, now gloating over her discovery, will surely be in her element.
'She sounds lovely' I mimic, falsetto, to the bigger of the cats who wanders into the bathroom, 'Ooohhhh yes, she's a fucking delight!'

HOLLYWOOD TAT!- Britney's pregnant again. Why in the name of God Britney, why?

21 Comments:

Blogger Face said...

FMC, I love you, please write a book, I will buy ten even though I'm quite poor.

10:33 a.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Right so! When I am a multi-million-squillion Euro author I hereby swear to uphold the tweed wearing, pipe smoking, dog reeking codes of old. I will get a motorbike with a sidecar, into which I will place my trusty hound Batman-who will be wearing a cape and goggles and we will attend book signings with good grace and easy smiles.

11:02 a.m.  
Blogger SheBah said...

"putting a slithering emphasis on"

I am SO stealing that!
That was just THE most exquisite post, I'm re-reading it again!

Can I join Batman in the sidecar and we can be The Two Thin Ladies - I'll stand by and hold the bouquets

11:31 a.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

You can come, but you have to wear tweed.

11:54 a.m.  
Blogger SheBah said...

tweed - ugh! Well, maybe if it's a microskirt with fishnets and high boots? That OK?

12:00 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Sounds perfect. Imagine the fun we'll have, top bits of totty in tweed. Tweedy totty.
I can see the red tops now.
'Totty Tweeds Terrorize Town!"
'"Her dog widdled on my foot" Imelda Fort, the buxom barmaid of The Startled Goat said, holding up a clearly damp, yet surprisingly cheap, court shoe. "And then my boyfriend left me to be their....boo hoo....groupie!"
When questioned about this, Miss SB sniffed loudly and-in a tellingly dismissive tone-claimed she doubted Imelda's tall tail of trouble as Batman was a discerning dog and not one to 'court trouble'. There was some sniggerng and then Miss Cat put her Jimmy Choo to the throttle and I was enveloped in a cloud of throughly thick smoke.'

12:18 p.m.  
Blogger finn said...

the world needs more heroes in tweed & jimmy choos. have at it, ladies!

and as to your doom FMC, well, at least arsenal won.

12:42 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Tru Finn, but the cost, the cost, afternoon with Ma...

12:44 p.m.  
Blogger SheBah said...

Gleeful chuckles - FMC you are on tip top form to-day!
"a clearly damp, yet surprisingly cheap, court shoe"
I'm stealing that TOO!

12:46 p.m.  
Anonymous Macdara said...

I dont know if the post is brilliant for the image i now have of you running around the place in your birthday suit or because it reminded me of the time my then future mother in laz walked into my Girlfriends apartment to find me starkers on the couch. I still wake up at night in cold sweats thinking of that day.

12:52 p.m.  
Anonymous MacDara said...

Oh and by the way thanks for all the effort you had to make to leave a post. To this day i am sorry i started my blog on MSN. It has to be the most complicated pain in the arse comment system out there.

12:54 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Ha! Poor old you, your Hawtness. I'll bet you were morto as dear Barney would say.

12:58 p.m.  
Blogger Dr Maroon said...

Miss Cat, I have no idea what I was going on about when we came in last night.
I didn't even see the game but I know that they would beat Celtic with 9 men (inc. the goalie).
So, Go The Gunners! Well Done and all that.

As pater is fond of saying:

One should never drink on an empty head.

I would buy your book too.

1:11 p.m.  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

That's okay Docky. No harm, no foul.

1:22 p.m.  
Blogger Andraste said...

This one phone call was so entertaining to read about...

I can't WAIT to read how this family drama plays out with the sister in law and the harpy mother.

This meeting is going to be exquisite!

3:07 p.m.  
Blogger LindyK said...

They always 'sound' fine... it's the meeting them part that's killer. Wowie, I'm with Andraste -- this is going to be even better as it plays out...

Oh and tweed? Really?!

3:54 p.m.  
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Great story as for me. It would be great to read something more concerning this theme.
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