A prompt response for Master Class ~ Assignment ~ Blissful blasphemy
by John Yeo
Horace stumbled as he entered the local bar and nodded to the landlord.
“You OK mate?” enquired the landlord anxiously. “You seem to be a bit unsteady on your feet! Careful there Sir. What can I get you?”
Horace spat on the wooden floor and glared at the man behind the bar.
“I’m OK, I tripped over your bloody carpet. I’ve half a mind to sue your establishment.” was the aggressive retort.
Horace opened his grubby raincoat to reveal a mud-splattered pair of trousers tied up with string around the waist. He pulled a paper bag from his pocket and removed a bundle of notes, peeling off a tenner, he placed it on the bar and said, “Get me a beer.”
It was then the landlord was overcome with the odours emanating from Horace’s clothes. Stale beer mingled with many other questionable smells that put him in mind of a refugee from a pig farm.
Two or three other customers in the bar instinctively moved to one side as this horrible odour arose and wafted around the bar.
“Phew!” exclaimed Alphonse the local car dealer, to his glamorous wife Estelle.
“Drink up my love, let’s get out of here before we catch something nasty. I really don’t know what this place is coming to.”
The landlord then interrupted and addressed Horace, quite bluntly.
“Get out of here you stinking freak! I refuse to serve you. You are already pissed out of your head.”
At this, Horace let rip with a tirade of curses and threats, beginning and ending with the questionable birthright of obnoxious barstewards.
Alphonse said to his wife Estelle. “Come on darling. Let’s go, we don’t have to put up with this tirade of blasphemous language.”
Then, a voice from the corner of the bar that seemed to come from behind a cloud of smoke piped up.
“When cursing or profanity is uttered colloquially, it is a sin that can be forgiven as a common sin against decency. Punishment should be meted out in response to the level of harm done.”
The landlord then turned and addressed the stranger in the corner.
“Father if I put a boot up this filthy mouthed drunks rear as I eject him from the premises, will this be punishment enough for his insolence?”
“Allow me to speak to the gentleman, I’d like to get to the bottom of this.” Responded the Priest.
“Go ahead.” said the landlord, “As long as you get rid of him for me.”
“Excuse me, Sir, I feel you have many problems to be resolved. I noticed your obvious wealth when you left that money on the bar. I would like to offer you a drink of tea at the rectory and a chat.”
With a snarl and another tirade of the vilest blasphemy that had ever come close to assaulting the ears of the Priest. Horace staggered out the door, followed by the landlord who landed the sharpest boot up the oblivious tramps rear end.
A few days later a letter arrived from a firm of city lawyers, containing a summons for the landlord to answer charges of common assault on one Squire Horace Batchelor.
The Priest wasn’t surprised at this turn of events as he was heard to mutter to himself. “Blasphemy can sometimes lead to a state of blissful serenity brought on by the proceeds of ill-gotten gains .”
Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.
Prompt response to this image supplied by ~ creativewritingink.co.uk
by John Yeo
Dust swirled everywhere, intense scorching heat blasted the sparse vegetation, frizzling the foliage, rapidly turning any suggestion of moisture into nothing. There wasn’t a vehicle to be seen for miles. The only sign of life was death, in the form of dead creatures along the roadside; roadkill by vehicles or a harsh death by thirst or starvation. Buzzards attracted by the chance of a free meal, always circling, quickly landing, squabbling over the carcass.
Death attracting life, as the natural cycle dictated.
Wild Wolf, accelerated, pushing the Harley to the limit the speedo registered 180 mph and his speed was climbing. Mary his girlfriend clung tighter and tighter to him as they powered along the highway.
Wolf was a long term member of the Hell’s Angels. Mary, his lady went everywhere with him, she was besotted with this tall biker, Wolf had shoulder length matted black hair with a beard and mustache that covered his face. Not much was known about Wolf, he was a drifter who moved from place to place as the whim took him.
Another motorcycle was roaring along in Wolf’s slipstream, his good friend Fearless Fox together with Molly his long-suffering lady, were having little difficulty in keeping up.
Wolf felt a nudge and shouted, “Yeah, whaddya want?” The noise of the Harley roaring along the road made any form of conversation difficult, niceties were impossible.
“I’m bloody hungry and I need the loo! ” Mary yelled in reply.
“What? I can’t hear you! What’s the matter?”
“STOP at the next building or I’ll be wetting myself and you!”
No reply came from Wolf that Mary could hear, she suspected it would have been a stream of curses and unintelligible diatribe.
A building loomed up in the distance and Wolf signaled right to alert Fox who was close behind of his intention to pull in. The bike began to slow as he reduced speed and pulled into the forecourt of a rundown looking business, followed by Fox.
“Hey, man!” Fox called to Wolf,
Mary and Molly rushed straight into the building obviously looking for the relief of the bathroom.
“Hey you Foxy! We’re making a good time, shall we step inside and ask if there is food here for sale. I imagine the lady of the house will soon rustle something up, Mary is starving and I could do with a bite to eat myself,”
“Sure man, but the place looks deserted. There’s no sign of any vehicles around and that seems strange to me, in an out of the way place like this,” said Foxy,
Then with a sudden realization the two men rushed into the establishment following after Molly and Mary.
Three men were seated at a table playing poker as the two bikers rushed in. They looked up startled as the door burst open and Fox and Wolf barged in.
An overweight man with his shirt hanging out got up from the table in surprise. “What the hell? Who do you think you two are? storming in here without knocking.”
The other two younger men got up looking menacing and stood by the older man. It was at that moment that Wolf realized they were both holding guns that were pointed straight at them.
“Now hold on, there is no need for guns. We are looking for the two ladies that ran in here just a few minutes ago. Where are they?” Asked Wolf angrily. “We are part of a large chapter of the Hells Angels and twenty more bikers will be here within the next few minutes. If they get here before we leave; your establishment will be ransacked and destroyed.”
The older man scratched his head and motioned the two young men, who were obviously his sons to put their guns down.
“They’re in the kitchen out back, rustling up some grub. They asked if we would like to eat, as Ma and the girls have taken the trucks and gone shopping. We offered to give them the food free if they cooked some for us as well. It will be hours before the women get back.”
Fox and Wolf both breathed a joint sigh of relief, they burst out laughing, soon all five men were seated around the table.
“Can we deal you in?” asked one of the younger men, grinning broadly.
After a few hands of cards, Mary and Molly appeared with steaming hot plates of food. The whole group were soon laughing and eating together and swapping yarns.
There followed a screeching of brakes as a dozen farm vehicles appeared and disgorged twenty men and boys looking for trouble.
“Sorry!” said Clem, the older man, “I radioed for some help from the back room after you told me about your Chapter of bikers arriving.
Moments later there was a roaring of motorcycles and a screeching of brakes as the Hells Angels rode in and sat menacingly waiting.
There was a facedown that just needed a spark to ignite a war.
To everyone’s surprise, three pickup trucks loaded with food signaled the arrival of the women.
A portly woman carrying a rolled up umbrella dashed out of the leading vehicle, yelling; “Clem! What’s going on? Stop this at once or I will beat every man jack of you myself.”
There was a shocked silence at first, then a muffled giggle, smiles became laughs quickly becoming guffaws and soon the whole gathering were in fits of laughter.
Well, they say laughter is a cure for everything and soon there was a hoedown, with the Bikers and the Country boys having one hell of a party.
Peace reigned when later that day the bikers roared off and normality returned to the Service station.
Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved