Teasing

Teasing ©

By

Michael Casey

I wanted to write something new but although I have a load of possibilities I could share I don’t want to share them with you yet. Am I actually teasing you all already? I do have a load of ideas and they are fresh but I’m not ready to share them with you yet. So as I pondered what to give you, like a mother wanting to save the cake will the weekend, or until Christmas, when I realized I could talk about teasing.

 So that’s what’s on the menu tonight, 2^nd Sept 2018 a  Sunday if any of you are collating my word. You must be so sad if that’s all you have to do. Go out find a girl and make love, or adopt a dog and take it for a walk, but staying home in front of the computer reading what Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham, the one in England is up to? Or is that the ultimate chat up line, I have read all of his words in 16 books on Amazon? 

You must get a better hobby for yourself, watch paint dry. Though we have a new Polish  friend called Carol who watches a lot of paint drying, but he is a decorator.

Ok, so while you are here, share those French Saint Michel biscuits from Marseilles, they really are nice, stop don’t take them upstairs, leave me some. I’m talking to my girls we just got those biscuits from my brother who has just returned from Marseilles. No he’s not a sailor, in the French Navy, though he does wear bell bottoms, they are back in fashion after all. These are the normal family arguments when fresh treats arrive in the house.

What will you do for me if I give you a biscuit? I won’t spit at you is the reply as a gob full of spit is prepared ready to spray over a sibling. This was our family life in the 1960s. One of my brother was really good at spitting so you never teased him about biscuits or he’d spit at you. He was a great shot and long distance too, and oh so accurate too. He was also great at dribbling food down the front of his jumper too. Losing things was his forte too, mum used to say “he’d lose his arse if it wasn’t tied on to him”.

As children we love teasing each other, where is your little sister? And you’d make the others guess, and say were they hot or cold as they searched the house for her. In the end she was stuffed into a cupboard or wedged under one of those old steel beds with exposed springs underneath.

Teasing is fun, the teased person goes mad, of feels as if they are being tickled, or had banged their elbow or coccyx so it hurts but makes them laugh simultaneously. As a child  you are so excited you may even pee yourself, until you find out were we really really getting a dog. Don’t tease the child I can remember my dad saying to my brothers and sisters. Then he’d buy me an ice cream to calm my tears, and that’s why I was called the Pet.  I repaid him when he was an old man by the years of sitting by his side.

I like to tease but do hate being teased. I’ll just curse and walk away if anybody attempts to tease me, they have no sport of the target  moves away. Though lovers enjoy the teasing, it’s almost a form of foreplay, have you bought me that house, or  where did you hide my red pen, I have to mark all those horrid students’ exams. Where did you hide the Stella Artois, I’m desperate for a drink. If you give me the Stella Artois I’ll give you the red pens. So a trade is done and as you get merry your girl marks the exams.

When she is finished you offer her your body, your fat and hairy body. She says she’s decided to leave you and become a Lesbian. So you do a strip tease and stand defiant, can your lesbian give you this. You girl looks at you and laughs, stealing your Stella Artois she has a well-deserved drink. Then she marks your body with her red pen, putting numbers, marks out of ten on various parts of your body.

Only what she  does not realise is that those new pens from Amazon are the never fade variety for teachers. The Stella Artois is finished and there is only one thing left to do, yes she has to prove that the marks allotted are justified. So you go to bed. And yes she did not use all her pen on all your body. Though in the morning as you sleep she writes A minus on your behind, then she heads for the shower. 

You join her in the shower, and she teases that the ink never fades. To your horror you discover she is right, she was not teasing, you bought those pens as a token of love for your love, now you are all marked up. You are an ass, an A minus ass.