Bedtime Stories

Did your parents read to you at bedtime?
Did you read to your own children at bedtime?

If either of the above are true, then there was very likely a favourite story that was read again and again and again, resulting in worn out story books or a tale burned into memory to be recited anytime at a moments notice.

Well, I have no children to read to and was only the recipient of one bedtime story ... but what a story it was.

It was The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Night after night I would live the life of a Hobbit ... run with Elves ... partake in epic battles with Orcs ... race through the underworld with Dwarves ... until the dark lord Sauron was finally defeated.

My father, who read to me each night, was not the best of readers and, at times, many a humorous delay occurred as he tied his tongue into knots as he tried to pronounce the more difficult words, thus causing an already lengthy saga to become even longer.

But I still remember that tale and to this day, many years after the tale ended, I can recall that last evening as the final lines where read ...

"'Well, I'm back,' he said." read my father. "The end!"

"Thank f*ck for that!" I blurted out. "Now can I go to the pub?"

I Make It All Up As I Go, You Know!

The tall, yet portly figure of Mr Pontebellis walked slowly down the dimly lit staircase.
"It would appear, Mr Slim, that our quarry has evaded us. There is no one upstairs", he said as his and vastly larger waisted partner, Mr Slim exited the living room.
"Most unfortunate, Mr Pontebellis. Most unfortunate indeed" said Slim. "One must assume, must one not, that  Mr Quirk was tipped off as to our proximity and he, to use commoner-speak, did a runner".
"That would certainly appear to be true, but I feel confident that we shall meet Mr Quirk very soon" said Pontebellis as he rounded the bannister at the foot of the stairs.
"Our client may not approve of this development, Mr Pontebellis. We did, as I recall, assure him that we would  expedite matters before paragraph five".
"Rest assured Mr Slim, we shall no doubt make Mr Quirk's acquaintance before the end of the third paragraph" answered Pontebellis as he looked up. Something went 'Zinggggg' and a large knife appeared in Pontebellis's hand. "Is that not so, Mr Author"?
I'll see what can be done
"You are most kind. Come, Mr Slim, we shall await Mr Quirk in the third paragraph".

~~~~~~~~

Quirk ran down Sickle Rd. and turned left into paragraph two.
"Who are those two and what do they want from me?" he asked to the air.
Well, said the Author, it's like this ... it's something to do with an amount of money which you borrowed. They probably want it back. Therefore, as  you haven't got it, you have to run away.
"I don't recall borrowing money from anyone" said a panting Quirk. "Why would I do that?"
A very good question, to which I have no satisfactory answer, because I'm writing this on the fly.
"But you're the author! You must know!"
Sorry! As I said, I'm just making this up as I go!
"What'll they do to me if they catch me?"
Honestly, I haven't thought that far ahead yet.
Quirk ran on, evading the last few sentences and rounded another corner into paragraph three.

~~~~~~~~

"Mr Pontebellis, I do declare, you are a genius! Here comes our quarry! Right on tome to enter the paragraph" said Mr Slim.
"Why, thank you, Mr Slim. Let us make ready to welcome our new friend".
"My knives are already so sharp as to be able to cut fog, Mr Pontebellis".
"Ah, I fear there will be no cutting in this, or any other paragraph, Mr Slim. Children may be reading. However, if you so wish, you may, as it were, insinuate the possibility of violence with knives by using them to excavate dirt from beneath your fingernails".
"I shall insinuate for all I am worth, Mr Pontebellis.You can rely on me".
"I am aware of that fact Mr Slim, and I am genuinely grateful".
Quirk stopped directly ahead of Mr Pontebellis and Mr Slim.
"I don't care what you do to me" he cried. "I can't repay the money! I don't have it, so do your worst" he cried.
"My, my! I do rather think that you are quite possibly taking this a little too seriously, Mr Quirk. We are educated ..."
"Educated!" said Mr Slim.
"... and sophisticated ..."
"Sophisticated!" added Slim.
"... gentlemen ... repeat me at your peril, Mr Slim! ... and we are certainly not monsters, although my friend and I do, on rare occasions, indulge in the physical alteration of those who upset us n some way, we are not intrinsically violent people".
Quirk fell to his knees as Pontebellis and Slim approached.
"Make it quick ... and preferably painless" he sobbed.
"We are processionals, you know" said Slim.
"We are indeed, Mr Slim. We are indeed".
Quirk closed his eyes. "Do it!"
"Certainly", said Mr Pontebellis. "Here!"
"What?" said Quirk opening his eyes.
Pontebellis handed Quirk an envelope.
"What's this?"
"Why, it's the money! The money you borrowed from Mr Crawly at the bank. You left it on his desk by mistake".
Mr Pontebellis looked out of the paragraph and off the page.
"Not what you were expecting, hmmm?" he said the readers. "Come along, Mr Slim. Our work here is done".

Homer: A Bad Day

Homer sat at a table in dark corner of Sickly Jim's bar.

Hunched over a multitude of empty beer and whiskey glasses, a small glass of dark liquid in his hand, he sobbed uncontrollably.

At the bar Ted McFlunkel, trucker and all round bad-ass, addressed the barman.

"Excuse me, good sir.  I can't help noticing that that gentleman in yonder corner is somewhat distressed. Have you an inkling as to his troubles?"

"Eh?" replied the barman.

"I merely enquired as ... Dammit! I should never have taken elocution lessons. What's with the dude in da corner?"

"That's Homer. Been here all day.  I reckon he's had some bad news."

McFunkel drained his glass.  "Well if he's gonna just sit there cryin' then I reckon that drink in his hand should go to someone who deserves it more."

He stomped across the sawdust covered floor, kicked over the spittoon [Yes, it was that kind of bar], and snatched the glass from Homer's hand. He downed the contents in one go and flung the glass at the wall.  He had hoped it would shatter spectacularly, adding some gravitas to his actions.

It bounced!

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaah-ah-ahah-aaaaaaaa" wailed Homer.  He flung himself over the table, scattering the empty glasses. "You bastard! You [insert expletive {it's not that kind of blog} ] bastard!" he cried.

McFunkel, realising that he may have gone a little too far, said "Whoa there partner!  You wanna tell me what yer troubles are?  Might help to talk".

Through intermittent sobbing Homer said "I lost my job this morning! The cleared my desk and threw me out".

"That ain't the end of the world" said McFunkel.

"That's not all" blubbed Homer.  "I went out to the parking lot and found some guys repossessing my car.  I had to get a bus home,but I got on the wrong bus and went up-town, not down. Then I realised I had no money left so I went to an ATM, but the damned machine kept my card saying I was overdrawn."

"Damn!" sighed McFunkel.  "You've had a rough day."

"There's more" said Homer.  "I had to walk home and on the way I got a call on my cell to tell me that my kids had run away from school, stolen a car and had smashed it into a bridge support.  They're all in critical condition in hospital."

"Damn!"

"When I got home I found my ex-bosses car was parked in my driveway.  When I went into the house I found him in bed with Marge, my wife.  She told me it was all over and I should pack my bags and leave".

"Oh my God! What a day!" gasped McFunkel.

"And now, after all that, I just wanted it all to end but then some brainless idiot comes and drinks my poison!
Can my day get any worse?"

"G-g-g-guh!" said McFunkel, clutching his throat as he hit the floor.