TALK TALK

"What's that film with Demi Moore and
Robert Redford?" Said Mal leaning with his
back against mine as we sat on the grass watching
the red arsed Baboons.
"Indecent Proposal?"
"That'll be it, that's you that is, 'cept she got 1K
and you got a few bob!" He laughed shaking against
me like some giant Scottish nit.
"Up yours!" I nibbled on Hardluck cake and enjoyed
the warmth it gave me and the funny eye burn.
"This hasn't got anything illegal in it has it Mal?" I
said dubiously when he'd unwrapped the large
cake.
"No, it's just fruit cake, everyday you just drizzle
on somemore whiskey until it's drenched. This
one has had about 2 bottles of Johnny Walker!"
It really was potent, gorgeous and syrupy.
"Just don't drive, operative machinery or look
after small children." Mal warned.
"Drive? That would be a fine thing!" I told him all
about Aunt Pat's Vespa watery end.
"It's sad, but maybe it's time to put away such a
teenage thing, maybe get a car even? You can
drive me, I hate driving, scares the shit out of me."
We sipped some wine, oh dear grape and grain,
headache city.
"Maybe I will get a car, but for that I need a job,
I need somewhere to live and I need Alan to stop
being such a twat! I'm sure he's gone off me."
"Poor Alan, it's you hen, you are the one who
can't commit. Maybe you need some counselling,
or bromide!"
"I thought you would be on my side! And then there
is Mickey of course, he now loves me madly even
though he's married with trillions of kids." I bit into
the cake, things were looking decidedly blurry
and fuzzy around the edges.
"Mickey? Are you crazy woman! He's to die for!
Alan is a sweetie but Mickey my god! I get hard
just looking at him!" Mal passed me the wine bottle.
"You get hard looking at Jack Dee for fucksake!"
I elbowed him.
"Well he is funny, oh fuck, look, that's us!"
Mal pointed to a bench under a tree, sitting there
was a man and a woman, their ages were hard
to tell as they were weathered and dirty. The
man was drinking a bottle of Night Train Express
and the woman was trying to read The Star upside
down, she also had a carrier bag on her head.
Superstyling.
"Shut up! Many a true word spoken in jest!" I
warned.
Then the man stood up, stretched to reveal a
dirty checked shirt under his holey tweed
jacket. But the clincher was when he said to
the woman: "Are you coming now hen?" In
a broad Glaswegian accent.
"No fucking way!" Said Mal.
"Yes that is us." I said sadly:"Or it might be."
"Fucking hell, maybe we should leave."
We looked at eachother in horror, the poor guys
and they really could have been us once.
"Let them leave first." I said.
The pair shuffled past us, the woman caught
my eye, her eyes were very blue and red rimmed.
Then she farted loudly.
"Yes definitely you Becks." Whispered Mal.
Once they had past we dissolved into uncontrollable
laughter.
"I love you Becka." Said Mal and kissed my head.
"Aww shucks!" I did a goofy face.
"No I mean it, I really love you, I had been so lonely
and you are so funny and nice." He squeezed my
arm. I looked away he had tears in his eyes.
"Time to go Mal, when the 'I love you's' start,
always time to go." I kissed his hand: "Will you still
love me if I fart loudly in public?"
"Wouldn't be the first time."
"And I dressed crazily?"
"No change there then."
"And I wore a carrier bag on my head?"
"Depends on the label, now get up and lets
sober up and start sorting out our lives. I want
a boyfriend and you need well, everything."
"We sound like a really cheap and nasty Will
and Grace."
"No I'm much better looking then him."
"And me? Am I prettier then Debra Messing?"
I fluttered my eyelashes.
"Hell no! She's quite a looker, but I'll tell you
truthfully hen, you are prettier then that
Baboon!"
A particularly hairy ape grinned and slapped
it's arse at us.
"Well." I said philosophicaly:"At least she's a redhead."

Becka M