Thursdays With Uncle Boom #21

I was spending some time in my office at the Docks, making sure everything was ship-shape before setting out the next day to Antigua to catch some sun. My clerk Nob was shivering in the cold in the reception. I was in the inner office and leaned over to stoke the open fire a bit.

Nob came over and knocked on the door. I opened it.

What is it Nob, can't you see I am trying to drink some Brandy?

Sorry Milord... Your cousin, Anderson, is here to see you.

Nob looked longingly at the open fire.

Well send him in you shivering tit and get back to work!

My cousin breezed in. He was a portly fellow with a face like a lepers shin. We had never really gotten on but, well, family is family.

Boomy! We are having a party at the Tradesmans Hall this evening. I was wondering if you would like to go, be my plus one as it were?

A party? With you, the famed prancing tadger of Woosnam Street? No thank you. I sail to Antigua tomorrow and need to get a good night's sleep.

No need to be like that old chap. I say, you wouldn't want to pour me a snifter of that fine looking brandy would you?

No I bloody well wouldn't. Now, get out of here before I stick my shoe up your arse and tell you it's a sailors cock.

He left grumbling about why he even bothered.

I settled back to drink my brandy. It was getting a little chilly. I shouted for Nob to come in and add some coals to the fire. After he did so he stood for a moment in the warmth. He took a deep breath.

Milord. I was wondering if you could pay me for working on Christmas day... I am struggling to put food on the table this year and my little boy, Hob. He, well he is quite poorly and I was hoping to get him a stick and hoop to play with. My wife too, she feels the cold so badly. I was hoping to buy her a shawl to keep her warm but I just don't have the money. Please Milord, it's Christmas., everyone else gets paid for working Christmas day.

I gave old Nob a keen look.

Money is it? Why is it always fucking money with you lot? Next thing you know you will be wanting to drink the brandy from my glass. Eh! And your wife feels the cold? She is a pretty thing. Maybe she needs a hot boaby inside her, that would warm her up.

He looked at me forlornly with big sad eyes.

Oh for fuck sake. Take one of the boiled hams. Merry Christmas and all that.

His face lit up with joy.

Oh thank you Milord. Now we can eat on Christmas day!

Bah humbug, now get out.

I went to bed early that night despite not being tired. Big day tomorrow after all. As I lay there, I was disturbed by a clinking noise from the fireplace. It sounded like chains?

Woooooo, wooooooooo.

I sat up in bed.

What the bloody fuck?

Near the fireplace materialised an apparition. It was the thing making the strange woooing. It looked familiar.

Harry, is that you?

The ghost turned its mournful face to me. It had a complexion like cloudy piss.

Yes Boomer, it's me. You killed me Boomy and now I am dead. Wooooooo, wooooooooo!

Fucking stop woo'ing man, it's quite annoying. What are you doing in my bedroom? At night? A little peculiar if you ask me?

I'm a ghost Boomy! a ghost, it's horrible being dead. It's all pain and chains! Wooo..

I stood up and grabbed my cane and experimentally whacked at him.

Ow, Ow, stop that. OW, stop!

You can still take a caning eh.

I smirked.

What the bloody hell do you want then... Come on then, out with it you annoying dead bastard.

The ghost of Harry looked hurt. I was not sure if it was from the caning or from being murdered some weeks past.

I am here to tell you that you will be visited by three ghosts tonight. They will...

I whacked him several times with my cane.

Ow, Ow!! What are you doing?!?! I am trying to, OW! Pass on a message!!

Stick your message up your ghostly arse Harry. I've decided to go to a party tonight.

Harry went paler than you would expect even a ghost to manage.

But, but... It's very important. They are coming Harry, you can't not be here?!! They will be so angry with me.

I beat at Harry's apparition with my cane till it disappeared with a screech. That was better, I hauled on some of my fine clothes and checked the time. Ah, it wasn't too late. Time to party. I wondered if I should stop by old Nob's house and give his wife a warming with my mizzen mast... After all, it was Christmas?

Yes, that's what I would do, maybe I would slip Nob a couple of coppers for the trouble. Yes, I was really getting into this whole Christmas thing.

Later I came home quite drunk and smelling of cat's vaginas. It had been a rather successful evening. Before heading to bed I browsed through my chats for some...

Well, once again the chats are feeble. I will have to plumb the spam comments. What do we have?

SpamFarmer1: Salut your writing, dream is something that definitely get tomorrow, if we always pray and work
This article reminds me to keep digging and keep searching for information and new things.

UncleBoom: Sometimes when I am ejaculating with my wife I remember our night together in Paris

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SpamFarmer2: you write a nice story friend

UncleBoom: Thank you, it wasnt always thus

SpamFarmer2: you mostly welcome

UncleBoom: Splendid, I shall call Eric and advise him of this new development

SpamFarmer2: yes of course you may

UncleBoom: Do you have the diamonds?

Aw, I guess he didn't. Dammit!

Well, there is much fun to be had in conversing with the comment spammers. I would heartily recommend it. The chats are still there if you prefer some anonymous kebab riffling. And remember...