yet more rude writing 8^{6}

ok, this is as far as i have got, so far .. the silliness continues. if you want to ( goodness do you ? ) you can refresh yourself from this category section. don’t say i didn’t warn you. until i write some more .. happy reading.

Opening the garage door I see that Michelle is home, she has a knack for parking just ever so slightly in the wrong place; it’s easier that way, making it very hard for me to fit into the remaining space. She has an early finish and as normal she’s navigating the house wandering about in only her knickers and socks. Not a bad way to end the day, all this talk of sin and corn flakes has me in the mind to realise what I’m supposed to be guilty of. Sex with Michelle is perfunctory, not on fire as the Kings of Leon claim, but it sure gets the evening of to a good start. She has a knack of making me crumble without complaint. A couple of Carlton Mid’s are produced, none of that cats piss for me, even the famous TV detective Morse said it’s not spelt with XXXX’s for nothing,  we then sit down and talk about our day, she has had the clients from hell – same old same old, and I begin to tell her of mine. This frank sharing of views stalls when I start to tell her about the letter from special k and the Church of the Sunshine Grass. She tells me again about her day, but this time I’m forced to listen, well I was enjoying the afterglow wasn’t I. Usually I do vague out the first time she’s telling me about the titivating days she’s had, I must admit.

“The church was the client from hell” she says.

“What the Fuck” I scream with enough energy to spill my beer.

What did they want from Digby, Mullins and Battens Pty Ltd, the shitty little mortgage brokers Michelle worked for, and what were they complaining about?

“Did they say anything about a Council employee?”

“Ah no I, I don’t think so” stutters Michelle;

They were just concerned about fixed or variable rates and wondering which way to go. Phil Digby gave them half an hour and away they went. It was funny though, there were 9 of them all squeezed in the office with Phil and when they came out they were very flustered, even Phil.

“Does D.M.B look deal in a professional sense with Ally Mullins from Big Bouncy Boobs Dance Review in Summit Park ? .. i manage to say”

I asked hoping that the answer would be no, Michelle would remember that I dated Ally for some time before we started living together, the fucking big yellow and black Ally / Alex tattoo on my arm would probably continue to remind her.

“No not directly, but the sleaze bag who owns the club does, his name is”

I had cut her off as I knew who owned the club, it was me, but no other bugger except for Ally and Slim knows that detail, not even Michelle. When I won the SBHA Prize Home, I put the proceeds to good use.

“It’s someone called John C. Millar, he must be a sleaze, I’ve never met him but who else would own a big boobs, firm bums and lap dancing club?”. …Michelle told me this with no option for me other than to offer my full agreement.

My unreserved agreement would be a bit difficult wouldn’t it and that description threw me a bit, that’s quite colourful in its accuracy and intention, the only thing she left off was the lack of a happy ending, that sort of licensing wasn’t available when I first opened the club and the drama with the 1% er’s wasn’t worth it. Even now with Queensland’s prostitution act, it’s still not possible, but creative types can work around that, I just couldn’t be bothered. The club earns a shit load of money as it is, with most of the money in cash; I have a hard time explaining to the taxman. I have an accountant Slim, who trains his thinning hair into unnatural styles and positions, but he know his shit and he gets me through the big picture, which is tax avoidance, it’s just that some of the cash is left off the books so I can grease the wheels of industry when they need greasing, without a happy ending of course!!

The SBHA win was amazing, I’d just packed up the house in Sydney and was all set to drive to the Gold Coast when I spied an envelope selling the latest prize home tickets. The Soldiers Back Home Association has been buying land and engaging builders to provide a prize worthy of everyone’s dreams and selling tickets at an affordable price to the public for a bloody long time. They also arrange and give away cars, cash, gold bullion and holidays.  It was silly of me at this time as I had just bought a new house and a car for my move to Queensland, but as I’d always bought tickets I thought why not! I’ll help them out, you never know.

Well of course I won! Didn’t I. Precise luck would have it that the house was around the corner from my recent and less than glamorous purchase and the prize car was better than the shitbox Toyota Camry I’d bought. It was a royal blue Mercedes 500SL, just like the two Mercedes I’d bought for the fat guy in Sydney all those years ago, I mean he paid for them I just went shopping for them, while confusing the shit out of the snooty salesman. The clichéd “look like a homeless person”, but buy two brand new 500sl’s, sedan and coupe. Well what to do? I sold the purchased house and Toyota and moved into the new one with my new German made status symbol. It was the proceeds from this gleeful sale that I invested in an adult review club right in the heart and spilt guts of Lincoln Point’s version of a night club/red light district.

It was a partnership with a guy whose sexuality was a constant source of amusement and confusion of all who met him. He could pull pretty well immediately in any location, gay or straight and the elderly Asian ladies who frequented the Casino loved him. This partnership ended when he was rather tragically killed in a machinery accident, he was helping a friend in his T shirt printing factory where he was savagely embroidered to death, over and over the words, “Mac’s Boulders are always bigger” were stitched into his chest and abdomen, resulting in serious blood loss and ensuing heart attack . It was the apostrophe in the word Mac’s that caused the most damage. Actually that’s the stupid story I tell everyone to get a laugh, but he really died at the hands of a jealous yakuza who didn’t like his wife bonking a round eye behind his back. Little did the guy know, but my mate would’ve loved to be bonking behind his back in the true “man love” style as well.

This tragedy had a silver lining for me though, my far from androgynous mate had named me the sole beneficiary in his will, and so I ended up with the entire club, his collection of bisexual porn, his 1976 Datsun 180B and 100,000 in cash that I managed to stumble across hidden in the boot. What a fabulous fucking windfall, in fact that was one of his favourite jokes “How many gay men does it take to change a light globe?” and he took great joy in screaming the answer: “10, one changing the light globe and the other 9 prancing about in their loudest voice yelling – Fabulous” He will be sadly missed in just a few dangerously exotic communities here in Lincoln Point, not to mention the stores that specialise in offering that certain something different.

So there I was fully cashed up, with a rubbish 32 year old car and owning the entire club. It was a small, smelly and yet sexy club called the Rumpy Pumpy Review, which I promptly closed down. It was hidden out of view, aside from the phallic and flashing neon sign out on the street, above an all night supermarket, which for some reason closed down when I moved to new premises I’d built in Summit Park. I learnt that all of the girls, limo drivers and many of the patrons purchased their tissues, condoms, cigarettes, headache tablets and power drinks from Tim’s supermarket. Well bugger me!!

But how the hell can the Big Bouncy Boobs Dance Review, the Church of the Sunshine Grass and this most recent threat to my personal safety be connected?  Oh no – don’t tell me…. has special K found my secret web of ownership?, and does he want to impose some sort of unique punishment for my single handed outbreak of mass masturbation amongst the horniest members of our community, I mean many men and women have enjoyed the serious teasing Big Boobs offers, why does special k want to hurt me?  Well, tomorrow might be fun.

By tbaoo Category: kitchens can kill