Hollywood

Decided to give Carol from the jungle gym another go. The woman can’t take a hint, even coming around to my house. She was talking to Enrique and so to stop her doing it with him I was nice to her. And then we were sort of going out and you know what? She’s not that bad. Few things bothered me about her still. Her face, mannerisms and the fact she kept saying, “these are mine!” That’s what she has been saying when I’m with her in public. She’ll put her arm through my legs from behind and grab my nuts quite firmly and give them a shake and go, “these are mine!” She’ll laugh when she does it but I don’t think it’s cute. She’s got a smoking body though, I guess from the gym. Oh yeah, she never shuts up about Formula One.

It was a beautiful day the other day – it was snowing this time last year! – and we took advantage of my staff discount and got some nibbles and went to the park. Walking across the park she started comparing the play equipment on the play area of the park to the things in her jungle gym, unfavourably, and I had to put a hand on her shoulder and tell her to take it easy because she seemed really offended. I was in a good mood because Enrique had been on telly the night before, some local shit, and they’d put subtitles on when he was talking because nobody can understand the fucker. He thought I was doing it with the remote control. Heh. He was really upset.

I got a promotional towel and our picnic and headed for the hill that overlooks the Neolithic grave. I spread the towel down on the grass and she went to get on it. She got on it first and I laughed but she didn’t get up. I looked around then back to Carol on the towel.

Instead of laying on the towel like a normal person would lay on a towel on a hill she lay down so her feet were up the hill and her head was down the hill. I went along with it and I too lay down wrong. We were chatting and she’s eating pepperamis like nothing is wrong and I’m up on my elbows which are carrying my full weight but I’m still sort of edging down the hill. If it had been steeper I’d have been rolling.

Well, I endured this most uncomfortable picnic ever, physically, not mentally. I mean she was fine to talk to. Sort of. I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly, but there’s always been something that’s struck me as malevolent about her. I wouldn’t say evil or any of that but I really began to think that somewhere under the façade she might be completely, well, yeah, evil. Something had traumatised her so badly that it had made her weird. Abuse probably. It’s like… if she spotted me her face would remain completely blank for a fraction of a second too long, before she smiled, you know? And before she spoke there was always this pause, not that noticeable but definitely there and you get used to people talking as you live life. You know how a reply should come out and you notice if it’s wrong. Her replies came out a fraction of a second too late and therefore wrong.

Anyway, my doubts were proved to be grounded in fact as I found out and so will you if you read the next bit.

We were still on the hill but ever nearer the bottom with the towel all curled up under us and we were trying to eat Carol’s apparently famous pasta mix (pasta, mayo and peas – never sweetcorn) while chatting away about life. To cut a long story short I asked Carol if we could perhaps turn around because my elbows were killing me and a confused look came across her face the way a cloud’s shadow will pass across a wheat field when viewed from a hot air balloon. She stammered a couple of words and then said, “I need a shit.” I was taken aback as it was unusual for Carol to be quite so coarse.

No it wasn’t.

She scuttled off to nearby bushes.

I waited for what seemed like three or four minutes when I heard angry whispers coming from the bush. Alarmed that somebody was in there while she was doing a poo I stood. It was a relief to stand, to be honest, I clenched my hands because I had pins and needles then skulked over to the bush. I bent over while rubbing my elbows. There were two voices. I parted some branches and peaked in and there, arguing with Carol, was a monumentally ugly girl who looked just like Carol with a microphone taped to her head.

And suddenly everything fitted together. Carol’s blank face, her hearing aid, other things etc.

This girl had been feeding Carol lines!

I coughed and they looked at each other then both sheepishly exited the bush with hangdog expressions upon their terrible faces.

“What the hell is this?” I asked and they came clean. Carol admitted that I was so gorgeous she had to have me but she was a dangerous psychopath and so she had enlisted her identical twin sister to help.

“These are mine? They were your words?” I asked the one who wasn’t Carol. Or was it? I was confused. It didn’t matter much at this stage. She nodded. “But isn’t one of you supposed to be… you know?” I was deliberately pointing at their faces. They didn’t know what I meant. “And then the other one should be good with words.” Just blank stares. “It’s just you’re both…” I pointed at their faces again. “And neither of you…” I just pointed at them both. “But in Hollywood…” I trailed off then walked off. I heard Carol and her sister have a fist fight but I didn’t turn around although I was tempted. It sounded like a right old ding-dong. I left the towel scrunched up at the bottom of the hill. I’ve got hundreds of them.

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