ARTICLE AND COPY SHOWCASE

The Continued Adventures of Andy Calacticus. (As he gets further out of his depth)

The following Morning, After the Previous Night.

I went to bed that evening with the faint hope of sleep. To further the chances of success for this noble cause I planned to set up four pieces of halved broom handles, one for each corner of the bed and cover them with a huge sheet which I tied firmly in place with my best boy scout knots. I then had to somehow crawl inside the space underneath the sheet and bliss, sheer bliss; I could leave the Stukka diving mossies to crash land on the sheet.

So into smug slumber I drifted off, for all of 5 minutes, because that was how long it took the blighters to get through my defenses and now I was a defenseless captive at their mercy. And how they enjoyed their revenge.

Who was it that said that mosquitoes can’t crawl, the blithering idiot. They had crawled up the inside of my sheet and straight into my hidey hole without one wrong turning along the way. So now I was once again a mere red blotch. The solution was obvious, I had to crawl under the sheet and somehow tuck the sheet under the mattress from the inside. So there I was crawling around, bent over in my twenty five centimeter safe haven craftily tucking in my sheet whilst fighting off vengeful mosquitoes all the way but finally success no mosquitoes and very little air.

I couldn’t breath; I had used up all the oxygen in my attempts to tucking the sheet. I needed some sort of snorkel! So off I went in the middle of the night to find some breathing apparatus. I threw a blanket around my shoulders and set out in quest of the Holy Grail. I remembered the plumbers shop at the top of the hill, surely there would be some plastic piping laying around”. So I began to slink up the hill in the shadows to avoid attention from the night guards.

Psst! “Good god, what was that?”, I thought.

Psssssssssssssssst. There it was again, I began to look around, nothing.

Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst, “Andji ober eere” I began to approach the voice. Finally I recognise a terrified yet traumatised face. “ullo Jim”. I said to Rodolfo “What’s tha doing ere inside that barrel?”, I puzzled.

“dat Bastard he wants to keell me”, he replied. “oh, sorry to ere that” I replied, “ope it ain’t catchin’. Hoo exactly wants to keell you”? I asked.

“Thee big Americano, Dov” (translated Dov means bear). he replied. “Why?” I asked puzzled ”

Tree dias ago I cook’ed som cookies an he eat six.” he replied. “Ardly seems worthy of a death sentence. Jim.” I pondered aloud.

“No, Ju don’t comprendes. I make funny cookies and leave them to cool outside the room. Ee is grande gordo and eat six.” he protested anxiously. “Why ee eat six, ‘oo tell ‘im is OK’ to eat my cookiees? he continued to protest.

Baffled I asked him “What’s a funny cookie, Jim?”

“Is with grass”, he explained.

“And that’ll put thi to sleep for days then, just a bit of grass off lawn inside ‘ot biscuits?” I asked.

“No not dat grass. Marajuana!” He replied. “OOOOH!” I said. “Do ju want one?’ he asked.

“No. no, thas right, I ‘av to be up fo graft tha knows, come morning.” I said. “‘Appen I’ll be putting teets on’to’ bull if a have any o’ that muck, Jim.” I continued.

“So ow long are the going to ide ere fo then, ye can’t ide ere forever tha knows?” I asked.

“Can ju go speak wit Dov and tell ‘im is all big mistake”, pleaded Rodolfo.

“Ok Jim. I replied, I’ll be back soon.” So with my new task in hand I changed direction down to the living area and went to look for Dov. Dov was a surly guy of about three hundred pounds and six foot six height.

His real name was Terry and he hailed from Chicago where he had been a movie critic. Normally a very placid character he did have the ability to become volatile if provoked. My accent tickled him so I was on his safe list.

“‘Ullo Dov”, I said as I entered the room where he was sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. He lifted his head to look at me and show me his bright red eyes. “Ugh” was his reply.

“I just saw Rodolfo’, I added, “and he wants to make a truce on the grounds that it was all a big mistake”. I explained. “Yeah, no problem.” he said. “Tell him to come.”.

With that I walked proudly back towards Rodolfo’s hide away to bring him the good tidings. I felt at least like Peres de Quela from the United Nations. “Come out Rodolfo”, I called. “Dov wants to see you”.

“Are ju sure is safe?” he asked. “Yes, Yes, anyway I don’t think he has the energy to clobber you tonight”.

“Ok I come”. Rodolfo Submitted.

And so we went down the hill, me tall and proud, holding Rodolfo by the wrist as he walked along like a bent up chimp, nervously scouring the landscape with his widened eyes. I presented Rodolfo at the door of Dov’s room. Dov stood up with a forward lurch at the sight of Rodolfo and grabbed a hammer that I had failed to spot previously and ran with lightning speed towards the door.

“Oh, Bloody ‘ell” I cried as I was knocked out of the way. Rodolfo took flight like a little whippet running from a tiger. I jumped straight onto the back of the rampant giant holding on for dear life.

By this time a crowd had assembled to view the proceeding and chanted “ride him cowboy”. Dov had failed to notice that he was attired only in his underpants! After a hundred yards or so the giant tired and fell to the ground and slept where he lay until morning. I went back to my room and tried to salvage something from the night by way of sleep.

Rodolfo came back four days later.

By now I was so tired that I did not care about mosquitoes, man eating flies, jackals, snakes or scorpions and so I drifted off into a long awaited slumber that lasted……………. all of forty five minutes.

“What now?” I screamed as I awoke to the sawing sound of what sounded like an out of tune violin.

I started to look for what could possibly be making such a dreadful racket in the middle of the night. It appeared to be coming from the roof. I got a chair to see if I could see any clues. Nothing. I returned to bed crying out of sheer misery and frustration to the monotanous rasping sound of the cricket’s very annoying moonlight seranade.

To be continued.