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13 March 2008
23. God’s Pits
The Smelly God returned to Mordan House. You remember him? The electrician with the bottom that, I suspect, is regularly anointed, cleansed and pacified by fig leaves, and who no doubt employs a puffer: that is, someone paid to squirt talcum powder onto his butt hole after each and every visit to Mr Crap’s shitting emporium!
I don’t know why I’ve become so fixated with my electrician’s ablutions – I think I’m just confused as to what he does with the vast sums of money he takes from the lip-biting shoulder-shrugging redheads of this world. Certainly he does not put it into his pits. God’s pits are unviolated by anything that comes anywhere close to fragrance. God’s pits are on the rough-and-ready side of horrendous.
But the Smelly God seems different today. No, not cleaner – don’t be silly! I don’t know what it is. He’s – dare I say this of a man who smells like something exceptionally smelly placed alongside something else of even greater smelliness? – softened towards me.
No, you unperceptive reader, do not go anywhere near that thought! I swear it’s booby-trapped and will rip the corpus callosum right out of you!
He’s a little shifty and uncomfortable too. Can it be true? Is he kind of playing with his shoe against the floorboard as he’s talking to me? But that’s almost coy!
Oh, sweet heavenly Mary and all the blessed celestial choirs of Paradise, say it isn’t true!
Why hasn’t he looked me in the eye yet? The last time he called round he looked me straight in the eye as if daring me to tell him that I wasn’t stupid, and daring me to say “How much, my oderous little friend! You must be attempting to take the smelly pee-pee out of me!” Not today though. I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. In fact, I don’t like it one smelly little bit!
So this is how he got here. I drove down to the local town, told him that the fuses were still “jumping out and going bang at the same time, but then jumping back in again afterwards, but without going bang”. He listened attentively, hummed and mm-ed and uh-huh-ed, and then said he’d follow me down in his van. And follow me he did. He buried himself in my cupboard under the stairs …
Behave, reader, behave! I won’t tell you again!
… eventually surfaced and said: “I didn’t do a good job for you last time. Too quick. I hold my hands up. So I’m gonna sort it for you – free-of-charge, you understand. The box is old and the connections are poor. I’ll put in a new one. I’ll make it safe today and then come back again and sort it.”
I’m not sure what he was doing while he was talking, but I know I was standing there with a face like a camel. My eyes were agog, and my chin and mouth were just all hanging down and looking broken and swollen or something. I may have dribbled slightly. I’m not entirely sure.
He glanced at me and I think he was shocked at my camel-face, so I quickly tried to reorganise my features into something closer to my bog-standard breath-taking and delicious-all-over face.
He grunted and perused the floor as if it were a live wire. He looked, in fact, as if he was about to say something!
Oh, veiled prophet look down on such a one as me and spare me, spare all of me, even the cellulite and the dinky navel that doesn’t really go in or out just a bit of both really, even my appendix that, lets face it, does Scooby-Doo for the greater good of the bod. Spare all of it! Spare all of me the attentions of the Smelly God! You and you alone are the true God, he’s just smelly, he’s just …
“Well, I’ll be going then. Be back in about two days. Suit you?”
Suit me? I’ll say. So I did: “Uh, yes, that suits me.”
As he was making for his van I felt the desire to say something. I don’t know why. Maybe because I’d been so cruel in my head. So I blubbered a kind of: “You must think I’m really stupid with these things. It’s probably something that anyone else could fix in a flash, eh?”
All I heard him say as he opened the door of his van and climbed in was: “Forget it. I don’t think you’re stilly at all.”
As he drove away, I suspect it was with my camel-face – and an angry camel into the bargain! - that I watched him go. Stilly? As in Stilly Stephanie?
Hands on hips, chest pushed out, cloak flapping in the breeze, I sensed that somewhere out there the Silver Smirker was smirking again!
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