Hazard of Parsnips, Chapter 18.

Read more about Hazard of Parsnips (HoP) here

https://worldofsheds.wordpress.com/a-hazard-of-parsnips/

and catch up on the preceding 17 chapters.

Clarence’s Diary

Dear Diary

Upon waking from a fitful slumber, a smile played upon my full lips. I think it was playing charades and it had to make the word ‘SEX’. I’m saying here I’ve got a sexy smile.

When I became sensible of my surroundings I realised my slumber had been fitful largely due to the fact I had been spooning a hedgehog for most of the night. My sleeping companion, Hedgie, had generously offered my lodgings in his, er, hedge and had offered me a cup of tea, as I had hoped. Well, diary, as sure as night follows day, Hedgie got me drunk on hedgerow wine and before I knew it we were singing the Ulyssess 31 theme tune and soon slipped into a companionable unconsciousness.

As morning broke and I noticed the spine marks in my chiselled pecs, Hedgie grinned sheepishly at me. I can’t stay mad at that guy, even though he got me drunk. He did offer me refuge from a notorious pervert, so I owe him my life. Well, I owe him a pint at least.

After I bid adieu to my spiny pal, I wondered what to do next. Should I

a) report to the nearest police station to tell them I was OK
b) Go and see my beloved delicate flower,Eileen, and some hot and dirty reunion sex. She may let me do her up the bum.
c) go home and check my mail

I decided to go with the latter. It might seem, dear diary, like a nonsensical thing to do and quite out of keeping with the character I have painted myself as, but I was really missing my vegetables, my lemon chapstick and I really needed a shit. There’s nothing like taking a shit in your own bog and I yearned for my porcelain bum embrace. Besides, I knew it would also help the writers of Hazard of Parsnips out, as they needed to move the story on and I was about to receive an important letter.

My step was light and my heart joyous to be free! I had escaped my man-napping unscathed(albeit probably broken that poor battle-scarred wench’s heart, but hey, she was collateral damage and this hunk had a body that he owed the world to preserve). My mind briefly flicked back to Teresa. I shook my head, almost as if to dislodge that thought from my mental furniture. I can’t feel sorry for her now. Yes, I lied to her, but it was my only chance of survival. Think Clarence, Think of something nice, i chastised my own brain. I was telling myself off and I didn’t like it. So I sulked at myself for a bit. I can’t stay mad at myself, largely down to my sexiness and tight, high baby bird bum, so I felt better for a bit. I even hummed a little ditty to cheer myself up. It was ‘Wild Boys’ and I imagined myself making sweet, sweet love to Eileen to that very music.

However, the windscreen wipers of my psyche kept flicking back to images of Teresa, dammit, and dampening my ardour. I really had betrayed her trust. It is such a burden being this handsome. I don’t know how most attractive people bear it. I hate the fact people give me preferential treatment because of my looks,think highly of me, and throw themselves at me. It’s such a fucking ball ache. I felt sick to the pit of my stomach when I thought of what that pervert might do to her when he learnt of how she facilitated my escape.

One thought occasionally leads to another, and this was one of those occasions. My mental furniture had shifted, like the Ikea warehouse, and I found myself pondering on other victims of my good looks. My god. I devastated them. What was this I was feeling? Was I feeling…could it be…is this guilt?

It wasn’t, I just needed a massive shit, I told myself.

As I got back to my house, I smiled as my allotment unfolded before me. It was quite handy having a fold able allotment. You could store it away and take it with you when you went on holiday. I let myself in the house, as the glass in the front door had been smashed…how strange. Luckily I had kept a jagged piece of cardboard that I knew would come in handy one day. I set about patching it up. I then realised that I should maybe stick the cardboard to the broken glass and secure it with gaffer tape, instead of trying to fix it with a needle and thread and oddments of material.

It was then I noticed it. A letter. It lay there on the mat daring me to open it. To be fair it wasn’t a massive dare to open an envelope, so I didn’t think much further about it. I tore it open to find it was a letter from Sandra Growbag. Oh Growbag! Another victim of the Clarence love-bug. I could hardly blame her, but she became such a pest. Following me home, watching me through the window, vigorously masturbating countless times in front of me. What was it she wanted now.

My eyes darted across her scrawlings:

Dear, Darling Clarence

Clarence, I cannot bear it any longer. I’ve tried playing it cool, following the rules, but it gets me nowhere. While I stay away, that darned Bilton gets closer to you. To be honest Clarence, I really don’t know what you see in her. Why would a man of taste, like you, be attracted to a woman with huge breasts, am enviable figure, a rich father, a beautiful face and a sweet disposition? Why can’t you see that she’s bAD for you, and yes, it might seem like these are positive things, but I need you to see the merits of a woman who is largely cuboid in physique, is pathological in her passion for you, gets crazy, paranoid thoughts when things don’t go her way, and can’t problem solve in any adaptive way. Oh, I see the way you look at her, like a hungry dog looks at the finish line. It makes me feel sick. She possesses some hold over you that I desire to replicate, but no not how. Until now.

It all makes sense to me. I need to be number one. The only way to become number one is at a Hot Body Show and that is where I am destined to right now. I am single minded in my determination to possess your affections and I believe by triumphing in this pageant, this will secure my place in your heart.

Do not try to stop me. Well do. If you like. You can also try and kiss me and put your hand up my top while you’re there.

Yours, unerringly

Sandra Growbag

_____

My mental furniture had experienced an earthquake. All my psychological objects had been rattled and I took 5 hours to work out what this meant. Sandra had fallen so foul of my charms, she was entering a Hot Body Show to win me away from Eileen. Hot Body Show. That sounds fun. But wait! Alarm bells were ringing. It was the phone, it had been pushed off the hook and was making that dreadful sound. Hot Body Show. That sounded familiar. Who had mentioned that before and why was I getting a bad feeling about this.

Oh god. It was Teresa who had mentioned it. She had been enslaved as part of one and now Sandra was going, like a lamb to the toolbox. All because I’m so damned handsome. God, when were people going to stop getting hurt because I’m such a spunk?

By god, I really needed a shit now.

Dr. Angel Replies

https://worldofsheds.wordpress.com/2009/12/01/letters-to-dr-angel/

Dear Lady Salt

You have indeed arrived on the very door that can affix the nosebag of knowledge to your snout. 

I have entered many a ‘hot body show’ and they are indeed elaborate and complex affairs.  Dare I say, almost a ritual. Hot Body Shows were invented in 1432 by Sir Special K who insisted on guests to his parties wearing red leotards, by which he would judge them on the well known dimensions of: goitre, guttage, truncheon, and haunces.  The Winner would be declared ‘the winner’, then everyone would down some thunderbird and run up and down the stairs, then do a ouijaboard, get freaked out then their mum’s and dad’s pick them up.

Today, few of Sir Special K’s traditions remain other than haunches and goitre. Truncheon and guttage have been replaced by the dimensions of sturdiness and attention seeking. Let me walk you through what you might expect:

You enter the hot body show through the Tuba monster section of Carlisle. Just next to the airport, home of Stobart Air.

You will be carrying a marrow with the words ‘thumbscrews’ implanted into it’s DNA.

The Hot Body Show will take place at ‘Carlisle Mike’s Beard Arena’.  You will enter by the ‘Wandering hand in a Sauna’ Gate.

The first dimension you will be judged on, of course, is haunches. There’s only one way for haunches to be and that’s powerful, like a powerful horse.   You will be asked to rear up, from your normal four legged rested state, onto your hindquarters, and pretend to throw an impertinent Orator off.  The judges will be looking closely for a flourish for your rear, and will be looking for tendons, sinewy. 

Tomorrow, dear Lady Salt, I will tell you about the further dimensions of goitre, sturdiness and attention-seeking.

That boy is in the bag!

Laterz

Letters to Dr. Angel

Dear Dr. Angel

I blush as I write this. Such an imperitnent and frivolous question to one so important. However, my heart clamours for answers and I know such answers can only be dispensed from one as wise as you.

Doctor, for many years now I have been admiring a young gentleman. I understand he has a personal fortune of a million lira a year, but o! Sweet Doctor, I care not for this.  This young man has a heart so gentle, a word so light, a guffaw so warm, and a butt that you could bend a spoon on, if you so desire it. I dare say he would handwash a cardigan that you had just bought, and didn’t want to put in the wash incase it ran.  It can be a bit Russian roulette you know, dear doctor. He has a countenance that would imply that he wouldn’t go to a strip club and that.

My ultimate aim is to be the winner of a ‘Hot body show’.  My esteemed friend, Lady Spinderella, says the only sure-fire strategem to win his freaky-deaky hear, is to enter a show of such hot bodies. tI understand that you are an expert on ‘hot body shows’ and was wondering whether you dispense any advice on such a persuit.I understand you cam first in the Hot Body Exhibition in Crystal Palace, where many people were committed to mental asylums, after pure exhaustion upon looking ‘pon your very frame.
O Doctor, can you advise me? How can you prepare oneself to win the hot body show.  I know I have to be number one.  I know I need to ‘push it’ in some form, but I know not what to ‘push’ and in what direction. Do I push it Eastwards? What if this interferes with East 17? If I push it West, might this infringe on Go West? Doctor, can you tell me what exactly is involved in a Hot Body Show?

O! and a thousand questions.

Much love

 

Lady Salt of Pepper

to be continued…