My mother tells me my middle name should be misfortunate. She blames it on my being born on Friday the 13th, sliding into the world feet first, causing her intense pain, which she still remarks on today.
”AS IF ITS MY FAULT I DIDN’T ASK TO BE BORN”
I had the misfortune to have very curly brown hair and green eyes, unlike the rest of my family. Mother is still convinced that I was swapped at birth.
”SURELY SHE CAN’T BE SERIOUS!”
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“I don’t fear death,” said Polypherous, “I fear not being able to say something original about it.”
As he sauntered across the freshly blackened road, its newly laid tar still odorous, to Quinit’s bakery on the corner of Beach Street, where the paving stones were still reddened by the blood of martyrs, and overflowing flowers in iron baskets bedecking the sills of tiny apartments filled with shouting boat-wives, hung like curtains, affording cool in the midday heat, he turned to Archegoron walking alongside, and asked him, “Do you fear death, Arch?”
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“I still take her a cup of bed tea every morning and cook the evening meal and do all the cleaning…”
Chess looked at the blob-blank faces of his 2 drinking companions and raised a glass of Best.
“Since that first morning of our honeymoon….” Faces kindled in anticipation of the oft repeated salacious details to come. Except they didn’t.
“35 years I’ve done it. She just lies in bed all day.”
Deprived of oxygen, interest flickered then died. Disclosure time, Chess decided.
“Our sex life is dead. That’s why I’ve booked myself a flight to Bangkok. One way. After Friday you won’t see me till I’m fully re-trained.”
Eyes focussed, necks lengthened, ears strained, cheeks rosied. Gratified he continued but in a conspiratorial voice so low I could catch only occasional words –
“Jade Buddha, temples, lady-boys, kick boxing, massage parlours,” -plus “Ohs” and “Ahs” punctuated with laughter.
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