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Life In A Small Puddle

By johnb43 | Posted: 01 April 2012

Views: 220

Living in a small town meant almost everyone knew you.  Being in a small electric guitar band and being a bit of a lad to boot ensured that everyone else knew you as well! But that didn’t mean everyone liked you. Fathers, and a few mothers, with teenage daughters didn’t like you. The town cop didn’t like you. The publican didn’t like you because you were under the drinking age of 21 but you still manage to sneak in to his establishment, the coffee bar guy didn’t like you because you went in to his establishment for a feed after you had been to the publicans establishment and get into a fight.  The list goes on……!

But being that you were young, invincible and considered a bodgie by every citizen over 40 meant that you didn’t give a damn about those on the hate list. You were far more interested in the people on the like list…..like the daughters of the Dads and Mums on the hate list! But the like list wasn’t static. Rather more like a mobile list.  Being that you were a “bit of a lad”, and other mitigating circumstances, you were compelled to change girlfriends every couple of weeks. Meaning that the hate list grew bigger as the like list got smaller…and smaller!

Back in the ‘50s you were expected to marry a girl before you lived with her. And since the hate list had got so large and the like list so small the time was fast approaching to do something really dramatic…..like staying with the one girl for more than two weeks!  The trouble was, you knew who was left on the like list and they all two weekers! That’s why they were still on the list!

It started when she came into the shop to drop off her cleaning. I wasn’t on the counter but was standing behind the large dry-cleaning machine when I saw her. The first thing I noticed about her was her doe-eyes. The second thing was her slimness and bearing. She was only 5’ 6’’ but appeared taller because of the way she carried herself. I was instantly struck! She was one cut above the average so  I thought she had too much class for me.  So, with her business done, she turned to leave. She looked at me as if I was just part of the machinery and simply walked out the door.

The following weekend me and me mate (you always had a mate!)had several hours in the pub and now we were going to a party and we wanted to pick our other mate up from his flat. We called there but he wasn’t home. His flatmate said he was at his chick’s (early 1960 parlance!) flat so we went there. When we got there my mate sat in the car and I went (staggered) to knock on the door. After awhile the door cracked open a little to exposed one eye. The eye said “Wot do you want” (It was a chicks eye!) To that I said, “Where’s Aussie?”

The eye replied with “Not here. Piss off”

Oh the silly girl! Fancy telling a half shickered me to piss off! To me that was a bit of an invitation!  So I said “Wanna go to a party?”

“No. Go ‘way”

“You haven’t got a choice. You’re comin’”

“I’m not dressed”

“Well, bloody get dressed!”

At this stage I would have thought any girl who didn’t want to go to a party and wanted the caller to ‘piss off’ would have simply slammed the door shut. But she didn’t………

So I gave her a choice. “I’ll give you 10 minutes to get dressed and then I’m coming in to get you. If you don’t get dressed I’m still coming in. How’s that?”

The eye blinked. “Oh shit. Hang on then “

About 5 minutes later the door opened and the eye came out. Now she had two eyes, a pair of lips and a body to die for. And her stance was…well…..regal!!

“Yup, struck gold” I thought! It was the chick who came into the shop………………….woo hoo!!!!!

 

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johnb43

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