Why don’t you write about my gas?

This morning, i was wandering in and out of the bedroom restlessly; unsure of where i was supposed to be or what i was supposed to be doing, either in the short-term or otherwise.

Earlier, i had been lying in bed with Mrs Drummerboy watching crap TV.

At some, point i had shifted position and been broadsided by the most fetid violation emitting from the space beneath the sheets.

“You hideous creature!” i cried, “what the f-u-c-k-i-n-g  h-e-l-l is that?” She suddenly looked small, all big eyes, little girl voice and stuck-out bottom lip.

“Oops, i couldn’t help it, it just happened” she whispered through the haze, in a vain attempt to calm my growing disgust.

“Well, p-l-e-a-s-e will you let me know, for my own protection, the next time your valve fails and you start to deflate” i replied in that special voice reserved only for those trying to speak from inside a sphincter cloud; kind of speaking without employing any part of the respiratory/olfactory system.

I flung the sheets back, put on my robe and exited the humid lair of this diseased, immoral and crusty little person.

Later, when i could breathe, and having found nothing particularly constructive to occupy me, i eventually decided to write something in these pages.  I needed inspiration and, against my better judgment, i re-entered the bedroom.

“I’m gonna write something”, i said “what should i write about?”.

“I dunno” she said, without averting her gaze from the TV, “why don’t you write about my gas?”

I do believe she was attempting irony with this statement, which is somewhat foolish, considering she reads my blog posts and has clearly noted that there isn’t too much subject matter contained herein, which i consider to be off limits.

Which brings us nicely to the here and now.

Mrs Drummerboy is an ex-work colleague of my ex-partner.  We met about five years ago at some party for their ex-boss whom they both despised.  Mrs Drummerboy was there with her long-term partner, and i mine.  We met, chatted, laughed and then didn’t speak again, nor thought anything of the encounter, for another five years.

About eighteen months ago and after seven and one-half years of continued sobriety; after watching my mother slowly, slowly, ever so slowly wither and die from cancer of the ovaries, i decided to play doctor and prescribe myself some painkillers.  This was unwise, as it took a year to un-prescribe myself and caused many people, a great deal of worry and upset.

About two months prior to me entering a treatment facility, myself and Mrs drummerboy had been in contact by phone with me playing the role of ‘helper’ with some issues she herself was having.  One thing led to another, and pretty soon we were flirting (she now being single, as was i).  The timing couldn’t have been worse but what could i do?  I spoke to her on the phone many times, whilst the ‘painkillers’ left my system;  she soothed me and gave me hope.

I arrived here five months and five days ago, and knew absolutely, that it was the wrong thing to do.

Believe me, i am long enough in the tooth to have learned what does and what does not work in relationships; what to avoid and such; which combinations ‘shouldn’t’ work and which ‘should’, but have yet to meet anyone who has paid ANY attention to the lessons of this lifetime when it comes to matters of the heart.

Mrs Drummerboy took me in when i hurt the most.  I had lost my mother and didn’t know how i felt about that.  I had, once again, lost everything and possessed only what i wore or carried in two hands.  I needed a quiet place to mend and she allowed me that.

We agree on almost nothing and clearly, she eats the wrong foods, but i love her, with conviction, for helping me regain my strength, in every sense, and for lying quietly next to me; loving me, as i cry for my mother who loved me too.

I’m grateful to her you see;

I wanted to tell you.


5 Responses to “Why don’t you write about my gas?”

  1. that gave me a well needed giggle.love to you and greatest respect(for the sheer audacity)to mrs drummerboy.feeling the love! x

  2. How I found this I do not know but it is making for an interesting pre-sleep perusal.

  3. Great writing Drummerboy. Very much like Charlie Chaplin in a way – many different emotions covered here. –Ted

  4. Some of lifes realities stink literally you keep writing we will keep reading

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