Comedy Open Mic Round 22 (Entry #2) : THE VILLAGE : Part 40 - Are You Worried You're Folding Your Tea Towels Wrong?

This is Harlyn Bay where I learned how not to drown after many attempts, having spent a lot of my childhood here. It's got this really lovely rip current that will pick you up and carry you miles out to sea. Only if it doesn't take you into what is often referred to as A Washing Machine. That's where the sea swirls around the rocks. Average survival time in A Washing Machine is less than a minute. You will either drown or get beaten to death on the rocks. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank anyone who has stuck with this never ending saga. Your support is appreciated.

(The copyright for this image is the property of Harlyn Sands)

The last week he'd spent with Sophie had Michael worried. He was also worried that he shouldn't be worried. That if he exhibited worry, when in reality there was nothing to be worried about, it would be counter productive. Being counter productive with Sophie was definitely something to worry about. Michael didn't mind admitting that women were a mystery to him. He wasn't quite so forthcoming with the fact that the mystery also encompassed men or rather humanity in general. Admitting you found the opposite sex hard to fathom was common place. Everyone always assumed you had a pretty good handle on your own sex though. Which had to be wrong, at least in some cases. Assumptions were always wrong in some way. Like the idea that say those who were, for the sake of argument, Lithuanian would have a lot in common. Such that if they were at the same function or party, they'd be introduced to each other. They were both Lithuanian after all. Yet apart from this they might be totally different. Being a native speaker of the same language means nothing. It might even be that those two Lithuanians were mortal enemies, because one comes from Eastern Lithuania and the other from Southern Lithuania.

In general nothing had changed. In fact being as obtuse as Michael most definitely was he couldn't actually define specifics. The only thing he'd come up with was that Sophie was occasionally more thoughtful than he was used to. Not as in kind and understanding, more lost in thought. But perhaps that was normal for Sophie. He simply hadn't witnessed it before. Everyone had different skins they put on depending on who they were with. Your personality varied, within limits, between how you dealt with your own mother and your partying friends. There were things you'd share with some yet not with others. What if his greatest fear had come true and he'd broken someone though? If it were Luke he'd have celebrated. That wasn't going to happen though. Luke's faith kept him from spinning into the depths of cynicism Michael occupied full time. He and Sophie still had the repartee going. The insults flowing from her were no less accurate.

Thus it was he found himself crossing the field towards Doogie and Doidge's homestead. Knowing that Doidge would be visiting his Nan. There were aspects of this that shouldn't be discussed in his presence after all. How should he approach this though? A swarm of lies were being examined and then discarded, as he traveled. Coming up with a believable fiction was hard in this instance. You see Doogie knew Michael very well. They had a history together, going back almost a decade or potentially even more. Now he was a few yards, meters or whatever, from his destination Michael did something he'd never done before. He decided to tell the truth, or as much of it as was necessary. Missing important things out wasn't lying. It had the exact same effect if you examined it. Being told a part of the truth could be as misleading as a full on lie. More so in a sense as the true bit would give the person you lied to a completely false impression. He really did have to stop thinking. Shame there wasn't anything shiny or colorful that would distract him. Michael knocked on the door. The muffled voice of Doogie came from somewhere inside. He'd be just a minute. Less than a minute later, Doogie opened the door.

"What the fuck are you up to Mikey?"
Michael looked around confused.
"Why would you think I'm up to something?" He replied innocently.
"First you hardly ever come up here. Second you knocked instead of walking straight in. And thirdly you look suspicious. Believe me I know all about looking suspicious."
"Can I come in then? Then I could explain what I'm up to. Which is a misnomer. I'm not really up to anything, I'm more seeking something. For the sake of argument, let's call it advice. Although more accurately it's a different perspective on an issue I want resolving."

Doogie shrugged then shut the door in his face. Michael stood there undecided. His indecision being all the more confusing as he was indecisive about what decisions were available here. He was about to knock again, very gently, when his brain accidentally understood Doogie's gesture. So he opened the door and walked right in. Doogie was in his kitchen preparing something that smelled very good. The man could cook. He enjoyed cooking and had a very substantial menu of dishes he could run up. It wasn't something you'd expect in a rugged, rough, tough colonial boy. Although the skills with a razor sharp knife were no surprise. Boy could he slice and dice. Michael cleared his throat. Not to draw attention but to clear his throat of whatever was making it impossible to talk.

"Well spit it out." Doogie commanded, while whisking like a pro.
Throwing himself into crux of the matter was what was called for here. No dicking about. Just coming right out with it. No introduction or preamble required. These are the facts.
"That looks good." Doogie rolled his eyes. "Do you use a lot of garlic? Only I noticed two types there."
"Only the amount required for the dish, ya prick. Now instead of fucking about all over the shop why don't you just come out with it. I'll tell you to fuck off. You'll fuck off and everyone's a winner. Here's an idea, why don't you fuck off now and save even more time."
"You might not tell me to fuck off. You could tell me to fuck off somewhere specific. There's a tiny chance that could be the solution to my quandary."
Doogie spoke without looking up.
"Ya do know I could pin you to the wall with this knife don't ya?"
"Oh yes but you won't. Those knives are very expensive and it could be damaged."
"Too right. It would break my heart to beat you to death with me chopping board." The Aussie shivered then sighed. "All finished here. Forty minutes in the oven, so I'm all yours. What is this about?"
They both moved into the living room area.
"Well you're my closest and best acquaintance." Doogie chuckled and shook his head. "The nearest thing I have to a friend. More importantly you have a knowledge of women."
They both sat down opposite one another.
"Only the operating instructions mate. As for what goes on inside their minds I'm as clueless as you."
"That's doubtful. I can smell perfume. It's not one Darcy wears to my knowledge. Not expensive but not cheap either. Mid range fragrance that was being worn by someone who stayed here last night. The tire tracks outside indicate you took the wearer home earlier this morning, when there was still dew on the ground. One of the wine glasses on the kitchen drainer has lipstick on it. Unless you're experimenting with transvestism, this would indicate you brought a woman back last night. Now I'm going to go out on a limb and say she did so of her own free will. That you treated her with respect goes without saying. I would have no idea how to go about that. Your knowledge of women is far superior to my own. Do you think Stephanie is the flowers and chocolates kind of woman?"
"That's impossible to say. For most women it depends on who is giving them flowers and chocolates. Steph, like a lot of women, has encountered more than her fair share of users and losers. Now Sherlock, what is this really about?"

Michael explained his problem with Sophie, admitting it might not be a problem. The minor changes in her and what he suspected had brought them about. It was the poetry of Doidge in his estimation. Something about it had awoken a part of her or anesthetized it. A switch had been flicked on or off. Still outwardly the same she was now different in a way he couldn't define. At the same time he wasn't sure if anything had changed. It was unquantifiable. In essence what steps should he take to rectify a situation that might not need rectifying.

"What do you think?" He concluded.
"I think you're barking up the wrong tree here mate. For instance you're a complete dick. You do dick things without thought, which to a woman is often worse than doing it with intent. Soph might have the hump with you. Meaning this change is only towards you and not a general one. My money is on that because you're a dick. A selfish dick."
"Yes well that goes without saying, and being a selfish dick I wasn't interested in whether or not the change was general. I am here specifically for me. Although that's not precisely true. I am definitely here for me, but I am concerned I may have.... tainted Sophie. She might have caught whatever is wrong with me. I'm comfortable with me being dysfunctional but I'm not sure I could handle spreading my malaise to someone so unique and special. Do you think I should perhaps be asking others whether they've noticed any change in her?"
"Yeah sure. Why not? That sounds like good sense and it gets you out of here. Glad I could be of help. Hope the sarcasm isn't coming over too strong here. Don't want to risk you extending your stay."
"You're right. Can't ask Steph though, there's a danger I'd reveal the Doidge situation. Shouldn't bother Miles or Penny as it could needlessly worry them. I suppose Darcy is my best hope. Now given our troubled past do you think she's the flowers and chocolates type?"
Doogie dropped his face into his palms and shook his head.
"Flowers yes. Chocolates no. Now is that it? Because Jesus H Christ I have no idea what help I've been or why you bothered coming here. Go see Darcy."
Michael made his way to the door.
"Oh. One more thing before I forget."
"Motherfucking assholes, you're harder to get rid of than dog shit. What is it? Are you worried you're folding your tea towels wrong?"
"I might have done something really, really stupid."
"Do ya think? It'll have to be something special to compete with coming here and asking me for advice about sod all."
"I gave Sophie a memory stick. It's almost a week ago now and though I keep reminding her she still hasn't returned it."
Doogie froze.
"When you say a memory stick, do ya mean "The Memory Stick" or am I going to wake up in a minute?"
"It's double encrypted, password protected and copy protected, so yes it's the memory stick."
"You need to get that back soon as mate."
"I was thinking, you and Doidge are working at Deveraux House. Sophie will be with me. Perhaps you could find it and borrow it back. It's probably in her room."
"Not a chance. Even if my life depended on it. It would be a betrayal of trust. I wouldn't be able to look any of them in the face after that. You weren't exaggerating with the stupidity were ya."
"It'll probably be alright I expect. Sophie could give it back on Monday."
"And I could be elected May Queen in December. It's the only copy right?"
"Yes. All of the files could be reconstructed from other sources but it would take weeks or months of work. I don't want to press her too much though. If I have psychologically harmed her I'd rather not risk making it worse. I might go see Big Jeff and see what he thinks. Darcy first though. Thanks for the advice."

A mere half hour later Michael knocked on Darcy's front door. More prepared this time. All his ducks lined up in a row and a coherent line of inquiry mapped out. In rough. With a few holes here and there. Nothing to worry about unless Darcy asked questions then demanded answers he couldn't give. He must try to remember that memory stick though. No doubt he should have made a note of the need to consult Big Jeff, in case that slipped his memory again. Darcy opened the door looking mildly but not unpleasantly surprised. Michael handed her his peace offering.

"What's this?" Darcy asked bemused and also amused, if the smile on her face was anything to go by.
"It's in lieu of flowers." Michael explained. "Doogie said you were a woman who appreciated flowers. I have no idea where I could buy them so I looked online. They don't deliver anywhere near St Erile. So I worked out that a suitable bouquet would cost between £25 and £30. That's £40, to make up for not being flowers. Hope you like them."
"Why would you be buying me flowers Michael? Is this a set up?"
"Think of them as an olive branch Darcy. We've had a few ups and downs since we first met. Ones that will probably be laughed about eventually. I know I won't but others might."
"They'll do." Darcy pointedly stuffed the two twenties into her top. "I only wish I had a vase to put them in."
"I could have bought you one if I'd ... Oh right. That's a joke. Imaginary flowers and the imaginary absence of a vase. I expect you'd like me to explain why I'm here."
"That's unbelievably astute of you."
"No it's the kind of day I'm having. I'll try not to keep you long. Heard you had a good night with Doogie."
"Damn right. He had way more medals than anyone else and we won most of the games. I've still got no idea what polo is though."
"They had horses? How did that work?"
Darcy chuckled.
"No you idiot. We played indoor polo. You had to be there. We were an awesome team. He's not as dumb and unsophisticated as he makes out. How did you know we had a good time?"
"Sophie told me. It's her I'm here about. It could just be me but have you noticed anything different about her recently?"
"Do you mean some kind of subtle almost undetectable change? That she's become far more reflective and contemplative than she was previously. As though there was something on her mind and she was distracted? Still the same person out for fun, yet with a hint of sadness."
"Yes." Michael affirmed optimistically
"Then I haven't. She's the same old same old. Do you think maybe she's adjusting to having a job? That all those gaps and huge holes in her memory might be on her mind? Maybe she's trying to grasp onto something that has evoked whispers of those lost parts of her life."
"Not really. I thought it might have something to do with some poems that Doidge wrote. I suppose they might have reminded her of things she'd lost. Although that's hard to fathom. They're mainly love poems though so that makes it less likely."
"Oh boy." Darcy rapped her knuckles on his forehead. "Hello. It's time to wake up and smell the coffee Mr Penrose. This is your morning wake up call."
"You're right. Thank you Darcy. That's taken a load off my mind. Oh and if you see Sophie before Monday can you remind her to bring the memory stick. It's rather important."
"I'm always right and if I see her I will." Michael left. Darcy still unable to work out any major revelation she'd produced which would have made him think he'd finally figured this out. She closed the door gently. "Did you hear all of that?"
"Yes I did. Now do you believe me?"

I would like to nominate @steemonkey and @mountainjewel for the next round.