One Whisky Too Many

Have socks will travel

Back in the days when Pete was on earth Pete kept a log, which at times thanks to too much whisky and sugar may not be strictly true. Word has it he left it behind when he left for Planet Hy Man for those of us who want a gentle reminder of just what a queer bunch we humans are…

2008 A Bleak January

I woke with the mouth to quote Woody like a “cat litter tray”, which had me confused until Woody explained what such a tray was…

I felt positively sick at the thought not to mention confused. The nearest thing I’ve seen to a living thing on my planet is my boss, Mex. A woman who has no idea how to do anything but kick in the sort of leather outfit Woody calls fetish.

A tray to her is something to balance on her head while practicing her high kicks.

There I was, belly-lying on Bunnie’s couch——staring at the sort of carpet that belonged in a seventies sit-com, my head as heavy as a spaceship logbook, bloated, depressed, possibly homesick, trying not to picture said tray when Bunnie (the owner of the said seventies sitcom carpet) appeared with a plate of runny eggs and bacon.

That got rid of the homesickness quick-smart, I can tell you, I downed the bacon and eggs before Bunny could find the salt, belching like Bunnie’s Izzie, a dog that thankfully doesn’t need any sort of “litter tray”.

The cat litter tray mouth is all due to Bunnie’s idea of “seeing the old out and bringing in the new” with a mission to save the planet (or at least Glasgow), and a new outfit for Mex that has her looking like a “visually impaired cleaner” rather than the man spy from Planet Hy Man.

Swapping her six-inch boots for trainers is a learning curve for Mex of weird walking and a lot of “Must I wear these slippers?” moaning that had Bunnie tutting.

Here’s me trying to get to grips with the Scottish way of speaking, confused between the sound of sheep and shit; a boat and a vote, and the meaning of a fast woman as opposed to a fast car while Mex, obsessed with her latest shoes was practicing high kicks like, to quote Don “a ten-year-old after a binge on Karate Kid” films.

I was happy with the beer, wine, and half a ton of cheese, but after one whisky last night had burred into a series of unknown songs, Mex attempting the can-can, and no memory of ‘hitting the coach”, not to mention how I got into Bunnie’s sleeping bag.

What is the point of having a good time when you don’t remember it and can’t hold your morning coffee without shaking and what is the point of sleeping in a cocoon-like thing when you are not a moth and lack the mothlike ability to escape?

Yesterday after the hole-in-the-wall episode Bunnie, her fasting regimes forgotten headed for Pizza Hut and ordered enough pizza for a spaceship crew.

With an arrival befitting our esteemed leader, Bunnie burst into the sitting room and shouted “Have pizza will travel” and waited for a reaction from the gang.

The gang being, my pal Woody, Don, (Bunnie’s pal although Woody says he would like to be more—not that Woody has elaborated on the more), and DJ, (an identity who’s just a little too smart for his own good).

The gang pouring over the scribblings of a plan didn’t look up, even when Mex appeared with the Karma Sutra balanced on her head mid-high kick.

Bunnie plonked the pizza boxes on the table and shouted, “Let’s celebrate, drink to the beginning of our mission— saving the world.”

“Hardly the world” muttered Don.

“Glasgow then,” she said and when nobody moved pulled out a bottle of red.

“Get some glasses” she shouted, and before I could find out what “a stuffed crust” was we were toasting to “a new year, a new mission and a new her/him/me/us.”

I told Bunnie I was happy with the old android,’ and she laughed claiming “a figure of speech.”

I asked her if this was the same as “a turn of phase” and Woody jumped in. “Not exactly but you are on the right track.”

“What’s track got to do with figures?” I said, at which point Bunnie pulled out a bottle of whisky; a drink I'm told gets better with each sip.

“Get that down you.” She waved a tumbler my way, then shouted. “Here’s to new beginnings, new…” Bunnie glanced at Mex now engrossed in the Karma Sutra “…err us”.

“Have sock will travel” laughed Don on the search for some ice.

“And slippers too,” said Mex without looking up

“They are not slippers” tutted Bunnie “They are trainers.”

“Trainers are women on our planet, sometimes they write manuals like this...” She peered at the Karma Sutra sideways, then upside “...that you can’t understand.”

Bunny snatched the book from her. “Yes, well, trainers are people here too.”

“I heard they call trainers runners in Australia,” said Don, his head in the fridge.

“Don’t confuse the woman” said Bunny with a crisp shutting of the Karma Sutra.

“Or sneakers,” shouted DJ

“I said don’t confuse the girl.”

Mex sipped her whisky, pulled a face then reached for a square of tablet, dipped it in the whisky, and with a way too loud 'Hmm" sucked…

She pondered for a while as the whisky bottle began to empty then, with the last of the tablet secure in her mouth said. “Let me get this right. I train in runners, run in trainers, sneak in slippers, and jog in sneakers?”

And you know what, no one could be arsed to answer her.

And now for a little tomfoolery

until next time happy reading