020609 Don't Fish on the Beach

Place: beach, hove
Time: late avo
Costume: gay wifebeater meets faded hippy


Today I saw a friend that I’ve been experiencing a bit of no-see paranoia with. As in, I shouldn’t have been eating chocolate and smoking weed with another friend when I was meant to be in a comedy performance with her. Yes, my estranged wife.

Anyway, turns out she’s broken her no-bonk rule made in India and got her self into a right old mess.

We did some witchery, I gagged, proclaimed and hilared, (new word), over it, then we made witch stone sculptures to determine the outcome of the scenario.

We chose the pebbles carefully and decided we had two phallic symbols, an over-sized clitoris and an absolute mess. Yes.

We then drew one out for me – a stone with a hole in it and a little one that snugly fitted in perfectly. Just as she said I was a prick tease, (stone half in), it jumped and landed in the hole – yeah, that’s a Godiva prick tease.

Anyhoo. We honked it out and she went off to entertain the foreign students whilst I crashed a beefy barbecue with people with far too many manners.

Scared by the apparent civility of it, I escaped and popped to see the friend before I would wobble home on my bicyclette.

There’s a man there eating fish. Big mistake. We’d made the plan of honesty, though it sounded ridiculous:

‘I’ve gone out with a lot of people before, and I know if it will work or how it will end. I can see how this will end.’

And what is this grandiose reason? That he’s a meat-eater. No really, not even about the cock. And what is this poor sod doing with her and the dishevelled barbecue?

Eating fish, that’s what.

I told her she was creating an absolute mess, and entering into a new soap-opera existence, (switch the telly on, honestly girl). And as soon as I’m out of sight there he appears.

‘I don’t think he’s the kind of person to get hurt’, she tells me.
‘Well then’, I ask her, ‘what does he think’s going on?’

She didn’t know. And it’s been over a week and we all know how intense that can be.

It turns out in hindsight they were having the little chattie there and then. Ridiculous and dramatic. My favourite moment of it all is that apparently he won’t use johnnies, so she won’t fuck him. And when I commented that the serotonin-inducing sun had got me and there was no need for mushrooms, they separated slightly (drama), and he said for her benefit,

‘Life’s too short’.

Oh for god’s sake. Yeah, life’s too short, especially if you don’t wear condoms.

I ask you.