Bingo Wings

The snows had gone. Everything was back to normal and I sat in work with a face like a cats arse eating a cigar.

The air con in my work is notoriously wonky and it often seems to be set at tropical which means you have to dress appropriately. I had on a short sleeved shirt which allowed me, in snatched moments of joy, to admire my guns straining away at the sleeves.

I reached over to the shelf next to my desk to pull something off it. I felt a small breeze on my face.

What was that?

I lifted my arm again.

Something flapped ever so slightly.

I cocked my head to the side and inspected my upper arm.

Skraawk?

I muttered, as I gazed upon the wing before me, hanging down from what was once a magnificent muscled arm. Not just any old wing either. It was my wing. My bingo wing.

Bingo Wings, for those not in the know, are the hangy folds of loose skin on the upper arm, that old women who play bingo, flap about in the air when they have won a fiver.

How did this happen? I cast my mind back. Everything was hunky-dory and then we had the little boom. There were certainly some sleepless nights around then and I did hit the chocolate a bit to get through it.

That situation is still ongoing and then there was Christmas, followed by my birthday...

Ah.

I might have put on a bit of weight.

But Bingo Wings? Me?

I got up from my desk and ran to the toilet. Maybe it was just an angle thing. I needed a mirror so as to dismiss the idea that I could possibly have bingo wings.

The toilet was empty. I quickly wheeked my shirt off and regarded myself in the mirror.

Looking good, BoomDawg.

I flapped my arms experimentally.

Skraawk?!!? SKRAAWK?!?!

Sure enough, my magnificent wings flapped back and forth underneath my arms. I flapped them some more. Then a little harder.

Did I feel a certain lift?

I flapped harder still, were my feet lifting off the ground? Were they?

Waaaark, waaaark!!!

I cried victoriously. I was almost flying, flying!!! I flapped harder and harder.

The door opened.

El Jefe entered and stopped dead in his tracks. I covered my nipples in mock outrage.

Well, excuuuuuuuuuuse me!?!

El Jefe flushed madly and backed off mumbling something apologetic sounding. The door closed. I snapped my beak at it angrily then moved back to the mirror.

I looked at my bingo wings again and gave them a sad flap.

Damn. I had better get serious in the gym... Fast!