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Lovehearts and Laxatives
Brenda
on lovehearts and laxatives...
So this stuck up missy comes storming in here, and she’s all in my face, saying, I need some lovehearts, and I says, the phrase I was taught was excuse me, and so she looks at me like I just shat in her handbag and she says, excuse me, madam, do you have any lovehearts in stock this fine day, so I says, no, missy, they don’t make them any more, and she’s all, fuck’s sake, and goes storming out again.
Pardon my language.
But that’s not the end of it. It gets to nearly the end of my shift, and in she comes again, waving this packet of lovehearts at me and she says, who doesn’t make them any more, and I just look at her and say, well, that old gypsy on the high street makes her own, but only a fool would buy lovehearts off her, and she stops for a second, almost lets the lovehearts drop out of her hand, and then she says, what do you mean, only a fool would buy lovehearts off her, and I tell her about the time your Tony bought what was supposed to be that Viagra stuff and it turned out to be laxatives, and I could see her little brain thinking of something clever to say to that, and all she could manage was, why didn’t you tell me that before, so I give her one of my looks, you know the one, and I go, you didn’t ask.
Tony on gob-shites and gobbling...
Haha, no, I never bought any pills off that old gypsy. Who told you that? Brenda? She’s just a gob-shite, mate. And Natalie? Well she can fuck off n’all. She’s a nasty bitch, she is. I wouldn’t touch her with yours, mate. Baz said he’d been with her once, and she was going down on him, and he shot his load, and she fucking gargled it! And then she spat it in his face! Dirty cow! So she can fuck off! And you can tell her I said that, n’all.
Him on Chocolat and Chocolat
The flowers in this room are dying. They wilt on top of the broken gas fire that is the primary focal point of this room. Also on top of the fire are two burnt out candles and enough dust to practice your autograph in.
The fire’s notable features include a lop-sided, self-detaching guard grid and a buckled tray of coloured glass coals. This tray’s innovative design allows the coloured glass coals to drop to the floor at apparently random moments – almost always when one is dozing off on the couch.
I am sitting on the couch now, waiting for the next coloured glass coal to drop. It is Friday night.
Flanking the gas fire are a Buddha, half of whose face has been chipped off, and a soapstone dragon, missing its right foreclaw. Despite their injuries, both Buddha and the dragon smile at me.
I smile back. It is Friday night and I am smiling at a couple of mutilated Chinese statues.
I am surrounded by this shit. Her shit. A pot pourri basin supported by three stylised African tribesmen. Three drums of confused ethnicity with real animal hide skins. An Ikean bookcase stocked with Memoirs of a Geisha, Red China Blues, two copies of Chocolat (one with Jonny Depp on the cover, one without) and Anne Robinson’s autobiography! Such a waste of Scandinavian craftsmanship!
Scattered around the foot of the bookcase are a handful of lovehearts. Wake up, they say. You can do better. Life’s too short to shag ugly women. She threw them at me, told me it was over, and ran off out. She hasn’t come back.
I have told myself I will not sweep the books from the bookcase. I will not kick the pot pourri basin out of the stylised African tribesmen’s hands. I will smile at the Chinese statues. I will sit on this couch and I will wait.
Natalie on the merits of maturity...
I spat Baz’s cum in his face, did I? I’ll name that tune in two – premature ejaculation. His cock was barely in my mouth and he was shooting his load. I think it was the first time anyone had gone down on him. Maybe it was the first time anyone had done anything with him...
Anyway, that’s just rude, shooting off without even warning me. And it tasted gross. Normally cum’s quite a mild taste, yeah? His was, like, extra mature or something.
And Tony said I can fuck off, did he? Well it’s a damn sight more than he can do! I’ll name that tune in one – impotent! And he shat all over my bathroom! If you see him, tell him he owes me a towel set!
The stuck up missy who wanted the lovehearts on supermarket assistants and thieving gypsies...
He’s gone. That thieving gypsy... and that supermarket assistant! The phrase I was taught was excuse me? You’re a supermarket assistant! You don’t lecture me! You serve me! You bring me my lovehearts and the only time you speak is to tell me how much you hope I have a nice day.
And that thieving gypsy! Wake up? You can do better? Life’s too short to shag ugly women? What kind of lovehearts are they? What happened to Be Mine? MINE!
And now he’s gone. And it’s all her fault. Thieving fucking gypsy. Be on that corner tomorrow!
The old gypsy on need and desire...
You’ll buy something from an old gypsy, won’t you darlin? Somethin pretty for your girl? Something that’ll make her happy? Something that’ll make her cum? No?
You’ve got problems at work then? Your boss is a bastard? Your colleagues are bastards? Your clients are bastards? No?
It’s money then, isn’t it? You need a charm for your wallet; something that’ll help put money in it? Something to take to the bookies? No?
Well what then? Out with, man!
You
want a story? Well, I can give you that for nuthin, darlin. Just this
once, mind. Next time, you pay. And I ain’t cheap. My stories have been
passed by word of mouth across five continents. Wise men in
Sorry, you’re the one with the story? About lovehearts, is it? Why, I makes them meself, I does. Just sold some to a right snooty madam, just the other day. And you know what? She complained! First complaint I’ve had in all my born days. Said my lovehearts were crap! You’ll pardon me, darlin. Said they weren’t what she asked for. Young lady, I said, I gave you exactly the help you told me you needed. Well, she weren’t too happy about that. Told me she didn’t need help, she needed some lovehearts. Ever so sorry, my dear, I said, I’ll be sure to give my help to someone else in future. And then I smiled at her. Worse than a curse, is smiling. Well, almost...
Baz on spitting and swallowing...
What can I say? Natalie’s a lovely girl. Hot little body. But no class. She went with Tony, for God’s sake!
No, what I need is a little refinement. A certain elegance.
Like my latest lady-friend. What a snob! I tell you, she wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire in the street. But she gives the best head I’ve ever had. And she swallows, too!
Now that is class.
And all I’ve gotta do is keep feeding her these lovehearts...
Next time I see that old gypsy, I’m gonna give her some beer tokens!
