Comedy Open Mic Round 22 : THE VILLAGE : Part 39 - Buggered If I Know.

This is the church where I had Christianity beaten into me. Of course that was back in the GOOD OLD DAYS. Back then they knew how to educate people properly. They understood that if you keep hitting children harder and harder, eventually they will learn (or die). Generally we learned to keep our mouths shut and not to ask difficult questions. Back then, when I was a youngster sitting in a freezing cold tomb for several hundred Sundays, this church did a Latin Mass in the evenings. One I sat through a few score times. Only to discover that it makes much more sense when you don't understand a word of it. I want you to think of that poor little boy, shivering with the cold and continually having "knowledge" beaten into him. That way you'll understand my grudge against society and my intention to take as many people as possible with me when I die. You will also learn that sitting in a freezing cold church and frequent corporal punishment for even the most innocuous offence isn't half as bad as reading my pathetic prose. DO YOU LOVE ME NOW MUMMY, DO YA?

(The copyright for this image is the property of Wordpress.com, It's the go to place to have all your words pressed.)

Straight after work Michael and Sophie went back to his house. Where they planned to read Doidge's poetry then discuss firstly whether it was of a good standard and secondly how they could use it to get the star crossed lovers together. Michael aware that with Sophie any plan might not even involve the poetry, good or bad. There was every likelihood she'd suggest locking them in a room together naked. Sophie was not the type of woman stupid enough to use a sledgehammer to crack a nut. Not when she could conjure up a buffalo stampede to do so. Some would consider her unhinged, not knowing that Sophie had no hinges. They weren't necessary when her imagination could bend itself into such wonderfully surreal shapes. There was that old adage of the P's. Proper planning and preparation prevents piss poor performance. Everyone's heard it, Michael was one of the few whose whole life set out to disprove it. That's why, while he'd scanned all of Doidge's poems, he hadn't printed them out. Which wasn't a problem. He had the memory stick and several electronic devices he could transfer the data to. Including the TV. The files were essentially pictures after all. It took a while to set things up but eventually he and Sophie were sat in his living room. Each scanning the beautifully written documents. Sophie suddenly exclaimed excitedly.

"Oooooo!"
Michael looked up from his laptop, which was cooking his gonads quite nicely.
"What have you found? Is it good?"
"No, I just thought I haven't done Vikings as a costume yet."
Michael grimaced.
"Those horned helmets are going to be a problem in the confines of the van."
"That's a myth." Sophie replied.
"No, I'm pretty sure having two socking great cows horns sticking out from your head is going to create difficulties."
"Horned Viking helmets are a myth, you tool. You knew that already though. You're just messing with me."
"I wish I were. What I'm actually doing is ensuring my eyeballs aren't skewered and scooped out of my skull. Have you got any other ideas? Characters or costumes you want to add to your ever growing repertoire?"
"My mind is alive with ideas. A few of them aren't even illegal or pornographic."
"Oh, that's a shame." Michael replied ironically.
"No worries. I'll work on them until they are."
"You see this is why I forget things. Far too many distractions for me to cope with. I blame Luke for that. I could blame society but it's a lot bigger and stronger than he is so I can't victimize it."
"Balls. You forget because you don't want to remember. Funny isn't it. How the two of us are so different in that way. I fight to cling onto ghosts of memories while you cast them away. Why do you hide from the past?"
"I've forgotten. Now, before I forget, let's each peruse the poems."
She frowned at him but he was scanning whatever text was in front of him. So Sophie spooled through a few of the wonderfully written pieces then picked one at random. Twenty minutes later she was still delving deeper and deeper. By some accident of evolution or fate Doidge had discovered he was a talented wordsmith. They were that good. She let out a soft sigh at one particularly elegant couplet. Then looked up guiltily to ensure Michael hadn't noticed. His eyes looked a bit funny almost as though he were holding back tears.
"Hey numb nuts, what's the matter?" She taunted. "Got something in your eyes? You look a bit weepy."
He cleared his throat loudly.
"No, my eyes are watering because I've been punching myself in the groin. If you must know. Thanks to these breeches I've lost all feeling in my personal zone and that's made me very sad. They are fantastic though aren't they?"
Sophie started out all nonchalant.
"Well I'm a bit of a purist and some of his language is, to say the least, rather prosaic. Take this one for instance, where he uses the metaphor of the sun dancing on rippling... Why hasn't anyone ever written stuff like this about me? It's not fair. I want to be the thrice blessed goddess and golden light of the dawn."
"I'm sure Doidge would write one for you in a similar vein."
If looks could kill, Michael would have been a very messy autopsy right then.
"That's not the same." She growled. "He's poured his heart and soul into these. Even the ones that aren't about Steph are really about her. I want to be loved like this."
Change the subject! Change the subject!! Change the subject!!! Ah welcome back my old friend panic.
"So they'll definitely work with Stephanie then."
"I'm not so sure about that. She isn't the flowers and chocolates type of woman. I know this because she's told me no man has ever given her flowers or chocolates. And that's not because of allergies and a tendency to fat. Also she's boned a lot of those men who haven't given her flowers or chocolates."
"Are you sure Steph has.... entertained a lot of men?"
"I don't know. I have no idea what a lot would be. As far as I know it could be any number between two and one hundred, but I do know she's had some. Which isn't fair either."
Michael got up from his seat, setting the laptop aside and reached for the remote control.
"If it's upsetting you that much I'll turn it off."
Previously Sophie had only growled. This time something spawned in hell roared at him sending his blood ice cold.
"If you touch that I swear I will rip your heart out with my bare hands then feed it to you. Now give me the memory stick."
Making light of it seemed like the best idea. Well it was the best one after running away and Sophie was a lot faster.
"A please would be nice." Sweet baby Jesus, how wrong could he be? She glared at him, breathing heavily. Delicately poised on the brink of ornate butchery. "Here you go."
The thumb drive was placed into her outstretched hand.
"Is it password protected?"
All she needed was a bare concrete room and some electrodes.
"Buggered if I know." Michael yelped.
"How can you have forgotten the password when you only used it half an hour ago?"
Oh fuck.She was about to get out the bolt cutters and commence removing digits.
"That's my usual password. Buggered if I know. But it's all one word. All lowercase." She gave a curt nod, putting the memory stick into her pocket. "Just for the record. Are we okay now?"
"Yes." She answered tersely. "You wouldn't understand."
"I know. Sorry. Oh I will need it back though. There are some files and spreadsheets I will require eventually. Personal stuff. Of a private nature. Not important right now obviously, but eventually I will need them back. No hurry. It got tense there for a bit. Glad it's all settled now. Maybe you'd prefer to go over them yourself. Without me bringing everything down. I'm useless where anything feely or emotional is involved. I'll only get in your way."
"Sit down and shut up. We're in this together."
Why did that have all the allure of a suicide pact?
"Would it be okay if I popped upstairs and changed into something with a little more ball room? I won't be more than a minute. I promise."
Sophie eyed him suspiciously.
"Alright. Be as quick as you can."
There were a lot of things going through Michael's mind right now. Principally how far he might get if he climbed out of an upstairs window. Holy shit could it be that Sophie wanted him to exercise more to prolong the chase? Best to humor the crazy lady. It had worked out fine with Darcy when he'd kidnapped Emma by mistake. Well, nobody had died at least. He took the stairs two at a time up and down. In such a hurry that he grazed his dick pulling up his zipper. Another close call there. He really was pushing his luck today. Back downstairs he entered his living room in silence and resumed his reading of Doidge's work. Only he couldn't keep his mind on it.
"Would you like a drink or a snack?" Sophie shook her head without looking at him. All of her attention on the TV screen as she scrolled down the ornate calligraphic text. "Is it okay if I do?"
"Yes." She snapped. "If it'll make you shut up. Well go on then. Get your drink or snack or whatever."
"Um... Wellllll... I'd quite like a drink... but I'm scared. So I'll wait... silently."
Michael could swear he heard a clock ticking. Even though there was no clock. No way he could concentrate on anything right now. So he sat there for the next hour. Pretending to read poems. It was like school all over again. Thankfully that carried him off into an inconsequential tangent. It was often stated that "school days are the best days of your life", which was bullshit. The best days were the weekends and long holidays when you didn't have to go to school. Homework could cut into that of course.
"Hi Sophie. Didn't expect to see you here. That's a nice surprise."
For the first and only time in his life, Michael was glad to see Luke. What had turned into an ordeal of a day had suddenly become much brighter. With the mood Sophie was in there was every chance Luke had just breathed his last.
"Hi Luke." Sophie sniffed and rubbed her nose on a tissue. "It is late. I should be getting back I suppose."
"I can give you a lift if you like." Luke offered. "It'll be getting dark soon."
"Thanks."

Michael felt cheated. He knew he really hadn't been, but that still didn't prevent the feeling. When combined with the relief he was experiencing it produced a hideous cocktail of confusion. So much so that twenty minutes later when Luke returned Michael found he'd run out of insults and barbed comments. Instead of lambasting Luke he had another thought that wouldn't leave him. He acknowledged Luke's return neutrally. Neutral for fuck sake. Where was the spite when he needed it. Yet he had just the thing for this spiteless time. Michael printed off a poem he found apposite. On collecting it from the printer he found two pages though. He gave the one he'd printed to Luke immediately. Still unable to come up with a worthy insult or put down. Instead he looked at the second page he'd picked up. Someone had printed off Invictus by William Ernest Henley. It had been his mothers favorite poem along with If by Kipling. What in the world had made him do that he wondered. Weird how the mind worked. He really would have to start remembering things and organizing himself. Immediately after he'd taken care of everything else he'd get right on it. Starting Monday he think about when he could fit it into his overcrowded loafing schedule.

I would like to nominate @tcpolymath and @onceuponatime for the next round.