Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 2793

Printer-friendly version
The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 2793
by Angharad

Copyright© 2015 Angharad

  
-Dormouse-001.jpg

This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
*****

“This woman tried to bribe you?” Julie asked and was shaking her head, “She obviously doesn’t know my mum.”

“Quite,” agreed Sammi, “I mean, who in their right mind would risk everything for a measly hundred grand?”

“I happen to think that’s a lot of money,” I was clearing the table as I spoke.

“But it’s small change to Dad.”

Simon swallowed audibly, “It isn’t, no matter how much you’ve got, a hundred K is a great deal of money.”

“C’mon, Dad, your F-type is worth nearly that much,” Sammi had her own opinions.

“It’s not is it?” I was astonished. Mind you, I’d never wondered how much such a car would cost because I’m unlikely to ever have one, lovely though it is. But then if it cost a hundred thousand pounds...how could anyone spend that on a car? It’s crazy verging on obscene.

Simon blushed a colour which was somewhere between crimson and scarlet. “It’s a lease car.”

“With an option to buy, I take it?”

“Not sure, see how things are when the time comes round.”

I was astonished then after the shock passed I realised I was still thinking like I used to, buying this in Asda or Tesco because it’s ten pence cheaper. Simon has lots of money which he works hard to earn. He can spend it as he sees fit, he doesn’t tell me how to spend mine. Providing we can pay our way, I have no complaints on money.

In bed I raised the matter of his phallic symbol again. “You’re going to buy that car, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe you, Simon.”

“Well that’s your problem. What’s it to do with anyone but me in the first place?”

“I suppose it could be construed as conspicuous consumption.”

“Who cares? Look, wossisface who owns Chelsea football club, I don’t hear you complaining that he’s got two or three luxury yachts each worth millions, and you’re complaining about a single bloody car?”

“I’m not complaining, merely voicing a concern that you might be seen as opulent.”

“I am opulent. I can afford to be. Forget your past, at the moment money is in plentiful supply—enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Does that mean it isn’t?”

“Couldn’t tell you, why?”

“Because lots of people would like to know.”

“Including me,” he threw back.

“But you do have a cushion,” I said meaning his savings which are pretty phenomenal.”

He looked down at his tummy, “Yeah, but come the summer I’ll convert it to muscle again.” I nearly fell out of bed laughing.

“Did that woman really think you’d take the money?”

“I hope not.”

“Yeah, exactly. Why isn’t she concentrating on Oxford or Cambridge, that’s where most of it would happen.”

“Perhaps she has to train someone up for her post?”

“Hadn’t thought of that.”

Neither had I until just then.

I yawned and turned over on my side to sleep. As I drifted I vaguely recalled some programme on being trans, on BBC3. They had a variety of people including the very lovely Paris Lees. How does she stay so thin? I started to dream that I was taking part in a similar programme where they showed the sort of things you shouldn’t ask a transgender person. You know the sort, ‘Have you had the op?’ ‘Have you any photos of what you looked like before?’ ‘Which toilet do you use?’

One of the people taking part had huge objects stuck in their ear lobes like some African tribal custom, they looked really bizarre. I had the misfortune to be sitting next to her. “We’ve got you down to have your ears done like this after the show.”

“No way.”

“Yes, you can’t complain, everyone is having it done, except Paris.”

“I am not having that done to my ears, they look gross.”

“You’ve insulted me, you’re not allowed to do that.”

“Tough, if you want to go round looking like you got ears made of elastic bands, that’s up to you, just don’t include me.”

“But you’re not allowed to insult me.”

“You threatened me with assault.”

“I think we’ll get them put in your mouth as well.”

“I’d look like a duck.”

“Yes, people would think you were quackers.”

“I’m going.” I tried to stand up but something was holding my legs preventing me from escaping.

“You can’t leave—you can never leave...”

Someone tried to grab me and I fought them off then I fell, quite hard.

“What the hell are you doing?” called Simon from the bed above me.

“I was dreamin?”

“Yeah, you thumped me quite hard at one point.”

“It was horrible.”

“What was?”

“My dream.”

“Duh, I gathered that, what specifically was horrible?”

“I can’t remember now.”

“Are you going to lie there all night?”

“Uh no.” I struggled to free my feet and legs which had become tangled in the duvet, quite how I couldn’t say. I then went for a wee and then decided I’d go for a cuppa. I looked across at Si, he was doing his impersonation of a corpse—well okay, a snoring variety.

I shut the kitchen door as the kettle boiled, it was warmer and tonight they’d forecast a frost. I suppose we’re well into autumn so must expect such things, though I don’t have to like them. I hate the cold and the dark despite being a December baby—geez, I’ve got another birthday in a week or so. I can’t believe I’ll be thirty two.

It seems so unfair that the first two thirds of my life I had to live as a boy, so it feels as if I’m only a fraction of my age—however my body doesn’t agree and things like laughter lines are just starting and I found a grey hair the other morning. I sat and drank my tea. It felt so peaceful until the door burst open and a piece of flying fur landed in my lap, using what felt like grappling irons as brakes. Next moment she’s purring and rubbing her head against my boob.

I knew what she was after—milk—uh not from my boob, but the bottle on the side which I’d used in my tea. I pushed her off my lap and gave her some milk. She drank it, then back onto my lap to have a full strip wash—holding on with crampons. Finally when she’d run out of laundry to do, she plonked herself down, curled up and went to sleep on my lap. Sometimes I wondered if it was a cat’s world, eat and sleep, sex and fights with a bit of hunting thrown in as well if you get bored.

The problem is we only think of the overfed domestic moggies we share our homes with forgetting all the feral cats who live from hand to mouth or get awful diseases or are mal treated by humans. Then in places like China, they buy domestic cats to eat, killing them when they get home like chickens.

Perhaps it’s not a cat’s world but I’d certainly do all I could to keep this one fed and watered and looked after generally. She’s part of our family after all.

05Dolce_Red_l_0.jpg

up
222 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

Consumption

While I'm not a fan of it in general it does pay someones bills. The trick is not to do too much damage while doing it. I've heard it said cars in general are quite green, almost of the used up car is recycled. Now if we can get them using renewable resources.

Shelf-stacking paradox

Rhona McCloud's picture

If you are conspicuously wealthy and the faeces hits the rotating thingamajig I can't see your chances of getting a job shelf-stacking or being trusted by anyone as being high - prejudice might be unjustified but…. How do you think Simon would cope as a house husband?

I did have to Google Paris Lees and found this interview from 23/12/2012.

Rhona McCloud

Thank you, Rhona ! saved me work

I can understand Simon buying the GB's phallic symbol. Wouldn't it .look suspicious if he pulled up to the bank in a Kia.
Besides, The Jag's safer. Course, he could buy a Cadillac Escalade to flog around in. Makes the Land Rover look like a compact SUV. Caddy's cheaper too $ 60,000usd with money left to buy Cathy a Pinarello Dogma 2 for $15,000usd. Bet that would be OK, instead of a $200usd Columbia 15spd.

Cefin

By the way, that hat box is

By the way, that hat box is kind of empty, as we say, Pony Up! You readers that like reading stories on BC/Top Shelf as a donor you also
get donor only stories to read.

Cefin

Proportions

Cathy has been living as a girl only one third of her life. Wait until she is seventy or so, then she will have been living as a girl for two thirds or more of her life. Cathy, while you are young enjoy it and don't worry about the proportions. Youth only lasts so long.

Much Love,

Valerie R

I love cats

There is simply no relationship quite like it. To have a neighbor's cat camp on your doorstep facing your door so it can greet you first thing in the morning or greeting you at night as it runs to your car and jump in as soon as you open the car door, not because you are feeding it but because you give it some loving attention, is amazing. We all need love, as much as food, and we sometimes forget in our cynicism how much we are willing to do to get it.

I agree with Cathy, just

I agree with Cathy, just because you can, doesn't mean you have to, when it comes to buying ultra expensive items such as cars, boats and the like.

Just because you can doesn't mean you have to.....

D. Eden's picture

But the way I look at it, I put in my time and deserve to pamper myself a little.

I served my country, spent a lot of time in some really shitty places, lost some very good friends, was wounded twice, and still suffer the emotional and mental fallout from all of that periodically.

After leaving active service, I worked my tail off and provided a good life for my family - I still do. Even though my wife and I are no longer together, and my three sons are now grown into men, I still contribute to them and support them.

On top of that, because of what I did in the service the US government in the guise of the US Navy still has a rather ominous hand in my life. I am still carried as an active reservist and am subject to certain restraints on my life and restrictions on where I can go, who I can talk to, and what I can talk about. My security clearance remains active, and I am still subject to the restrictions inherent in that - not to mention living with the constant reminder that I can be recalled to active duty at any time at the convenience of the Navy.

Whenever I turn on the TV or listen to the news on satellite radio I am reminded of those facts.

So, why is it wrong for me to want to enjoy a few of the nicer things in life. I live by myself, yet I have two cars - a Cadillac CTS and an Acadia Denali, a 35' sailboat, a house, and a three bedroom luxury townhouse. Do I need all of that? No. Can I afford it? Yes. Does it hurt anyone that I have it? No. Does it actively contribute to the economy? Yes.

Do I contribute my time and money to charity on top of all of that? Yes - perhaps not to the extent I could, but probably more than most.

Do I financially support the families of several of my fallen comrades from my time in the service? Yes, I do - because I promised them I would as they lay dying in my arms and at my side. I would gladly give up that which I have to help them more if I needed to; but not only do I not need to do so, there is a certain amount of pride on the part of those I am helping to be considered as well.

The bottom line is that to a certain extent blatant consumerism makes the world go round, and unless one flaunts it in another's face, the possession of luxury items is not as evil as some would have you believe.

I have my demons to live with, but I refuse to become a nun.

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

Wealth

Podracer's picture

I don't begrudge anyone their wealth, provided they came by it honestly; nor what they spend it on.
Hey, they can befriend cats too, if they like.

"Reach for the sun."

At least

laughter lines are a positive , Shows you are not always frowning, As for the gray hair, Well you can always vist the hairdresser, Trouble is once you start its never ending , I guess in the end it depends on (a) how bad it is (b)how vain you are.... Of course you could always use a third option and go gray gracefully, Somehow though i don't that is a course Cathy will take...

Kirri

Contributes to the econimy

Visiting your hairdresser regularly helps to support the economy. Please support your area small business. It helps you in turn. Keeping it in the bank helps only the bank.

Much Love,

Valerie R