Post by Old Dragon (Al) on Mar 24, 2009 23:57:00 GMT 1
That Faggot Affair
‘Faggots! You expect me to make faggots? Are you trying to be funny, Steven?’
Steve watched as gay chef, Sebastian minced back and forth behind the counter in the canteen at Aberpystill Securities, flapping his teacloth and clearly most agitated and aggrieved.
‘But they are for Donk, and you know how depressed he’s been without his regular faggot fix down Sweaty Betty’s in the market.’
‘I don’t care! There’ll be no faggots in my kitchen! I don’t serve offal in this restaurant!’ cried Sebastian, determined to have the final word on the matter.
At that moment Dai ‘the dustbin’ Davies, fresh off his night shift monitoring the CCTV network and in need of sustenance before breakfast, appeared at the counter.
‘What’s up, Steve?’
‘Sebastian’s refusing to make faggots for Donk, and he’s still too scared to go into the market to get some since that Doris woman in Sweaty Betty’s started hitting on him.’
‘We could always send someone into town to get him some. Perhaps if they also told Doris how Donk couldn’t come himself ‘cos he was having a sex change, she might leave him alone?’ said Dai, grinning at the very idea of security officer, Dennis ‘the Donk’ ever contemplating such a thing. Dennis might be a shy fellow – and embarrassed at all the rumours and jokes made at his expense that flew around the company – but ever since he’d drunk too much in the local club one night and done the full Monty – well, there was no escaping his nickname.
‘Wedgie Reggie’s working in town later, perhaps he could get them and tell Doris – sort or slip it out into the conversation somehow?’ said Steve.
‘I want nothing to do with it,’ said Sebastian. ‘Nothing at all!’ He disappeared into his pristine pantry, shuddering at the thought of such offal ever polluting his premises. It was bad enough having to put up with the likes of Dai, Steve, Reggie and the Donks of the world as customers, but faggots in his kitchen…?
‘Did you get the faggots, Reg?’ Steve asked, as security officer and Tom Jones dress-alike, Wedgie Reggie, eased himself out of his little white van in the car park later than day.
‘Refused to serve me, they did! That as soon as I mentioned the faggots were for Donk… Seems both Doris and Betty reckon if he can’t visit them himself for his faggots, he can’t have any.’
‘But did you tell them why he couldn’t go himself… the bit about his sex change?’
‘’Course I did. Reckon that’s what stopped them serving me. They didn’t believe a word of it and Doris said how she wanted his balls on a plate before she’d serve him faggots again, she did.’
Steve looked thoughtful for a moment before a broad grin spread over his face. ‘Give me the keys to your van, Reg, I’ve got an idea.’
Reg obliged, and moments later Steve sped away in the direction of Dai Davies’ home. If Doris wanted balls on a plate, Steve knew exactly where to obtain some… as long as he wasn’t too late.
In the field behind Dai’s cottage, the vet struggled to find a vein in the three-year-old cob colt’s neck, as that danced and pranced around, screaming its head off in the direction of a field of mares across the valley.
‘For God’s sake hold him still, Dai! You should have had this fellow done a couple of years back and we’d have been saved all this bother!’
Steve arrived on the scene just as the colt reared up on his hind legs, almost taking Dai of his feet in the process.
‘Give us a hand, mate,’ said Dai.
Steve dodged the flailing hoofs and grabbed the colt’s headcollar and, between them, the vet soon managed to administer the anaesthetic and the colt buckled to the ground.
‘I need those testicles,’ Steve said, pulling a plastic bag from his pocket. (He had a plate ready and waiting on the passenger seat of the van.)
Half an hour later, Steve walked into Sweaty Betty’s andslapped the plate on the counter. ‘Special delivery for Doris from Donk,’ he said. ‘Now, can I please buy him a tray of faggots?’
‘Oh, for gawd’s sake, let him have some, Doris… Two trays, though, the way trade is today,’ said Betty, mopping her face and peering at the contents of the plastic bag on one of Sebastian’s pilfered plates.
Doris poked at the bag with a thickened, arthritic finger, ‘They're bull’s balls – and very fresh. Reckon we could relent, but you tell that Dennis I don’t buy a word of any sex-change nonsense!’
‘I will,’ promised Steve, shocked at the size of the faggot trays Betty handed over and the hole those made in his wallet. He’d let Dai secret them away in Sebastian’s giant freezer when he wasn’t looking.
Dennis’s face glowed as he tucked into his treat and Dai entertained all with the tale of the colt’s castration.
‘So what happened to his testicles in the end?’
‘Dunno,’ said Steve, ‘Doris was taking them out of the bag when I left and Betty had her frying pan on.’
Dennis paused, mid-bite above his plate. ‘You mean that’s what these are? That I’ve been eating them all this time and since me mam took me in there as kid?’
‘Well, what did you think was in them, and amongst the brains and stuff?’ said Reggie - but Dennis was already running from the room, his hand firmly over his mouth.
‘I don’t reckon the Donk’s going be desperate for faggots anymore,’ said Dai, watching him race away.
‘But we’ve got another tray and a half of the things left!’ said Steve.
‘Don’t worry; I’ll eat ‘em. Love a good faggot, me,’ said Dai, tucking into Donk’s leftovers and winking in the direction of Sebastian, who had just returned after a break. ‘Got to hide the evidence somewhere, haven’t I, boys?’
‘Faggots! You expect me to make faggots? Are you trying to be funny, Steven?’
Steve watched as gay chef, Sebastian minced back and forth behind the counter in the canteen at Aberpystill Securities, flapping his teacloth and clearly most agitated and aggrieved.
‘But they are for Donk, and you know how depressed he’s been without his regular faggot fix down Sweaty Betty’s in the market.’
‘I don’t care! There’ll be no faggots in my kitchen! I don’t serve offal in this restaurant!’ cried Sebastian, determined to have the final word on the matter.
At that moment Dai ‘the dustbin’ Davies, fresh off his night shift monitoring the CCTV network and in need of sustenance before breakfast, appeared at the counter.
‘What’s up, Steve?’
‘Sebastian’s refusing to make faggots for Donk, and he’s still too scared to go into the market to get some since that Doris woman in Sweaty Betty’s started hitting on him.’
‘We could always send someone into town to get him some. Perhaps if they also told Doris how Donk couldn’t come himself ‘cos he was having a sex change, she might leave him alone?’ said Dai, grinning at the very idea of security officer, Dennis ‘the Donk’ ever contemplating such a thing. Dennis might be a shy fellow – and embarrassed at all the rumours and jokes made at his expense that flew around the company – but ever since he’d drunk too much in the local club one night and done the full Monty – well, there was no escaping his nickname.
‘Wedgie Reggie’s working in town later, perhaps he could get them and tell Doris – sort or slip it out into the conversation somehow?’ said Steve.
‘I want nothing to do with it,’ said Sebastian. ‘Nothing at all!’ He disappeared into his pristine pantry, shuddering at the thought of such offal ever polluting his premises. It was bad enough having to put up with the likes of Dai, Steve, Reggie and the Donks of the world as customers, but faggots in his kitchen…?
‘Did you get the faggots, Reg?’ Steve asked, as security officer and Tom Jones dress-alike, Wedgie Reggie, eased himself out of his little white van in the car park later than day.
‘Refused to serve me, they did! That as soon as I mentioned the faggots were for Donk… Seems both Doris and Betty reckon if he can’t visit them himself for his faggots, he can’t have any.’
‘But did you tell them why he couldn’t go himself… the bit about his sex change?’
‘’Course I did. Reckon that’s what stopped them serving me. They didn’t believe a word of it and Doris said how she wanted his balls on a plate before she’d serve him faggots again, she did.’
Steve looked thoughtful for a moment before a broad grin spread over his face. ‘Give me the keys to your van, Reg, I’ve got an idea.’
Reg obliged, and moments later Steve sped away in the direction of Dai Davies’ home. If Doris wanted balls on a plate, Steve knew exactly where to obtain some… as long as he wasn’t too late.
In the field behind Dai’s cottage, the vet struggled to find a vein in the three-year-old cob colt’s neck, as that danced and pranced around, screaming its head off in the direction of a field of mares across the valley.
‘For God’s sake hold him still, Dai! You should have had this fellow done a couple of years back and we’d have been saved all this bother!’
Steve arrived on the scene just as the colt reared up on his hind legs, almost taking Dai of his feet in the process.
‘Give us a hand, mate,’ said Dai.
Steve dodged the flailing hoofs and grabbed the colt’s headcollar and, between them, the vet soon managed to administer the anaesthetic and the colt buckled to the ground.
‘I need those testicles,’ Steve said, pulling a plastic bag from his pocket. (He had a plate ready and waiting on the passenger seat of the van.)
Half an hour later, Steve walked into Sweaty Betty’s andslapped the plate on the counter. ‘Special delivery for Doris from Donk,’ he said. ‘Now, can I please buy him a tray of faggots?’
‘Oh, for gawd’s sake, let him have some, Doris… Two trays, though, the way trade is today,’ said Betty, mopping her face and peering at the contents of the plastic bag on one of Sebastian’s pilfered plates.
Doris poked at the bag with a thickened, arthritic finger, ‘They're bull’s balls – and very fresh. Reckon we could relent, but you tell that Dennis I don’t buy a word of any sex-change nonsense!’
‘I will,’ promised Steve, shocked at the size of the faggot trays Betty handed over and the hole those made in his wallet. He’d let Dai secret them away in Sebastian’s giant freezer when he wasn’t looking.
Dennis’s face glowed as he tucked into his treat and Dai entertained all with the tale of the colt’s castration.
‘So what happened to his testicles in the end?’
‘Dunno,’ said Steve, ‘Doris was taking them out of the bag when I left and Betty had her frying pan on.’
Dennis paused, mid-bite above his plate. ‘You mean that’s what these are? That I’ve been eating them all this time and since me mam took me in there as kid?’
‘Well, what did you think was in them, and amongst the brains and stuff?’ said Reggie - but Dennis was already running from the room, his hand firmly over his mouth.
‘I don’t reckon the Donk’s going be desperate for faggots anymore,’ said Dai, watching him race away.
‘But we’ve got another tray and a half of the things left!’ said Steve.
‘Don’t worry; I’ll eat ‘em. Love a good faggot, me,’ said Dai, tucking into Donk’s leftovers and winking in the direction of Sebastian, who had just returned after a break. ‘Got to hide the evidence somewhere, haven’t I, boys?’