The Word Eater

The Word Eater ©

By Michael Casey

Janet and John were small children they lived with their dad in a dusty house, dusty because dad wasn’t very good at dusting and mum was dead, so she couldn’t dust could she? She was very nice and great at dusting, she used to sit on dad’s shoulders to reach the high places in the house where spiders like to live.  They used to laugh a lot, but mum died. Dad said she fell off his shoulders while they were dusting, and even grasping at spiders webs was not enough so she fell and died and slipped and fell all the way down the stairs, bumpty bumpty bump. So now they were orphans or half orphans, they still had dad. Dad was fat and silver haired and wore shades, people thought he was blind or posing. And why such a beauty from Iceland fall in love with him anyway.  Did the freezer  melt and did he offer her a blanket, or did she like his dog as he looked like a blind man in his shades.

These were just some of the unkind words spoken, but really she had a cancer that spread as fast as the spiders’ webs in their house, she had made him promise to tell them she fell down the stairs while on his shoulders cleaning. So they wouldn’t pity her pain. So dad lied to them, and they pretended it was the truth to make him and their dead mum happy. Of course it was a lie, they knew what Marie Curie was, and they knew she was a nurse not just a friend stopping over because her husband had left her. They had collected for Marie Curie at school. So Janet and John ate mum and dad’s lie, because it made their dead mum happy and kept their fat silver haired dad in shades sane.

At school the lie was shared, their mum had fallen down the stairs while on her husband’s shoulders cleaning the spider’s webs. So people were sad but smiled too, then were sad again. As for the kids in the playground, they just laughed and laughed. Killed by a spider, not from Mars but from Iceland, now your mum is as cold as ice. And your dad is just a fat fat old man, is he your granddad really they laughed. They did not notice the Marie Curie badges that Janet and John  had on their lunch boxes, and that their fat silver haired dad in shades had on his lapel. He really needed the shades now, not just because he had sensitive eyes, but because he always had tears in his eyes. No more wife on his shoulders cleaning the spiders’ webs away. Now he had an empty King size bed, he was just a pauper now, his wife, his lover, his friend, his cleaner of spiders webs as gone. Cancer was quick like a thief in the knife, it had stolen his wife, but at least Marie Curie was there, better than a best friend for real. Now he had to continue, to be the fat dad as his Iceland wife called him, to mum too, if only he had a clue.

Your dad killed your mum, he threw her down the stairs, for the insurance money teased the kids in the playground.  An Janet and John  ate all those bad words. For their dad’s sake they ate those bad words, for their dead mum’s sake they ate all those bad and sad and tear making words that they  heard. Janet and John smiled and just said, mum died happy while cleaning the spiders webs while sat on dad’s shoulders, it was quick and painless and she died with a smile on her face. It was an accident. Yes the Spiders’ Revenge teased the kids in the playground.

Now this kind of torture can go on for a long time, but sometimes Fate intervenes. On this occasion it was a new PE or Gym teacher, no she did not beat every single one in the playground, though they did deserve it, she sung to them. Miss Fiord was an exchange student from Iceland, she had only just arrived the day before. The head teacher had told her to look out for Janet and John as their mum had died tragically falling down stairs while cleaning spiders while sat on her husband’s  shoulders. Dad had decided not to tell the school the truth, when um dead, um dead, and why take a chance that the painful truth about cancer would be revealed to the children.

Miss Fiord was a beauty, just as all Icelandic girls are, and when she saw Janet and John she loved them, even more than that teacher in Matilda. So when she caught the children teasing and bullying Janet and John she started to sing an old Icelandic song.  The children did not know what it meant, only Janet and John understood, they were bilingual after all. The song was so beautiful and cold that all children started to cry, not just a little bit but a lot, a Paul Daniels amount of tears. And on and on Miss Fiord sung, till the children begged her to stop, but she would not until the whole playground was on their knees and in tears. She only sung the first 100 verses, there were 240 more, but 100 was enough. The children would never ever be nasty again, for the rest of their entire lives. A road to Damascus experience in a school yard.

Miss Fiord then climbed the climbing frame in seconds and beat her chest, like a gorilla, she was the king of the jungle, and the school kids would never argue about that. Miss Fiord was a hit with all the school and everybody loved her, especially Janet and John. That evening she met their dad the fat silver haired man in sunglasses, she introduced herself and found herself speaking in Icelandic, he replied in perfect Icelandic. He told her the truth, she cried and her heart broke, and she loved his children even more. So you lied to keep your Icelandic word, and to spare your children. Miss Fiord kissed him on the cheek, and that one kiss melted the iceberg in both their hearts. For Miss Fiord had lost the love of her life, he fell off a mountain in Iceland and his body was never found, his body would have frozen and turned into an ice cube in the drink that is the North Atlantic Ocean. 

But now tragedy had brought them together.  Ice takes a while to melt, first you get slush and cold water and then slowly the ice melts. And that is what happened with Miss Fiord, she fell in love with his children and then with the fat silver haired daddy in shades. He was old enough to be her dad, but his heart was young. Miss Fiord won a spa day as a school Christmas raffle prize, so on impulse she invited the fat silver haired dad in shades plus Janet and John, they could play in the swimming pool. So Miss Fiord and the fat dad tried the sauna, but in Iceland you are always nude in saunas, so as Miss Fiord was nude the fat daddy followed her example. 

In future they would say their first of seven children was conceived in a sauna, everybody thought it was a joke. Same as falling down stairs while on shoulders cleaning spiders’ webs. Or falling off a mountain and becoming an ice cube.  But the truth is, when the ice melts it melts totally, and it becomes warm liquid. Janet and John loved having a load more brothers and sisters, they moved to a big house next to their grammar school. There even was a sauna in the basement, which their new mum Miss Fiord just loved. How could they afford it, well Miss Fiord became a head teacher. There was a big garden too and every year they had garden party in aid of Marie Curie, oh and what is Miss Fiord’s first name? Maria of course, because the fat silver haired writer in shades had  problem and Maria solved it, just like in the Sound of Music, and she did sing that Icelandic song in the playground after all.

Waiting for a Viewer

Waiting for a Viewer ©

By Michael Casey

Well I’m waiting for a viewer, for somebody to take a look at our house. Ironically enough my wife is looking at someplace else, then she’s going shopping, so I have to crack the whip for the final tidy up of the house. You know a bit of light dusting, starting with dusting down the vacuum cleaner then giving it a spin. I don’t do any of this, I just head for the shower and have a SSS, otherwise I’d look like Steptoe the rag and bone man from tv when our viewer arrives. I look 10 years younger and smell far fresher when I emerge from our bathroom, I just hope I haven’t left too much mess for the viewer to view.

My youngest daughter who has pretentions of being the next Martha Stewart but without the jail sentence, has arranged the teddy bears on the chairs. Instead I just open up our neglected piano and put the teddy on top, with my surgical stocking covering its head and its arm in a sling, like some relative of Puddys Bear from Children in Need. Then I place the oversize puppy slippers with ears on the floor by the piano peddles. Yes this is what uyou get when you come visiting our house. My small daughter says its pretentious, I agree but say it’s time to sell and move on. I have eye on 2 properties that we could just, and I mean just afford if we got full price for my house.

So the washing up is done, the girls private litter bin is emptied as well as the kitchen bin. I would bake bread and have fresh ground coffee too, only THAT would really be too pretentious by half. What you see is what you get, and it’s a nice family home, though for us now we want something bigger and hopefully with 2 toilets or even 2 bathrooms. I did have to spray some Deep Heat pain reliever but I opened my bedroom window so hopefully that’ll go away as he’s due in under an hour. Even if he does not buy our house, at least it’s tidy for a day. £700 a month is the rental value if you are wondering, if only I could charge that for each story I write. If you are reading this Mr Murdoch, 10million, a house, a car for the wife and a puppy dog for me is my price, for all of my stories so far, 14 books worth. Well you have to be cheeky, you never know who is reading this. Maybe world leaders meet to talk about Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham. Though North Korea may just want to kill me first, is Birmingham on the target list now? I’d rather make love to all the North Korean army girls instead of being a target, or would that be classed as a fantasy? I don’t know.

So now the wife has returned its back to life, back to reality, wasn’t that a song years ago? She’s dumped the shopping and is getting the car hand washed down the road. Meanwhile my girls are going to disappear to the woods while I do the show around of the house. Its less cluttered with people when our viewer arrives in 35 mins, I’ve just looked up at the clock. Our washing machine has just bleeped too, so do I hang out the wash to show just how big the garden is for drying all the washing. Or do I wait till post viewing? These are the mighty decisions I have to make, I’ve had a painkiller or two so I’m ok now as well, chest pain is no fun.

So I’ll pause as my stomach needs feeding, 640words or so while I grab a sandwich and try not to leave crumbs to impress our viewer. Though the mountains of Whiskas for the cat, and 120 rolls of toilet paper thanks to Groupon may detract from our house. But what am I to do make them invisible like the dragon in Pete’s Dragon? In the end people decide in 15 minutes if they like a house and then they spend 25 years paying for it.

Well I’ve had a ham sandwich and a salmon one too with pita bread wrap and Branston small pickle topping, so I’m all set up now. I’m having my 3^rd coffee of the day, just Kenco instant, I limit myself to 4 a day. So all I have to do is put on some music for my viewer. No need to argue by the Cranberries springs to mind, what do you think? Well that’s my choice to play in the background as I dust off my best Concierge smile, I’ll stop now as its 5 mins before show time.

Well the viewers came, so I showed them around, a very nice young family. Will they like my house enough to buy it? Are my show around skills any good? Who knows but I wish them luck in their house hunting, hopefully they have finished, as have I.

Comfy Chair

Comfy Chair ©

By Michael Casey

I got a new chair the other day, from Groupon, I had tried them for toilet paper as you know, so I thought I’d then try them for the same part of my anatomy, so I got a chair from Groupon. I was sitting in it tonight watching Pete’s Dragon and letting a tear loose. Yes I can cry easily, and yes my film tastes are very catholic, yesterday it was American Ultra which was very violent with blood and gore but a good film to watch. As you know earlier in the day I wrote about All Souls Day, today, so I suppose the reservoir of love about family and hope swelled and dripped from my eyes when I watched Pete’s Dragon. Or maybe I’m just a big baby.

My new chair from Groupon is chunky and big enough for my fat backside, and as I watched Pete’s Dragon I had a memory, when I went to the cinema in Killorglin in 1977 or 1978 around Christmas time and you had to pay extra for the jumbo seats which were more comfy.  The new chair reminded me of that, memories of County Kerry swelling up in me because my fat backside was reminded of a sweet memory from 40 years ago. I’m struggling to remember the film I saw it may have been a Star Wars one. It goes to show comfort is everything.

The Gaumont Cinema Birmingham had really comfy seats too and I remember seeing a Star Wars film there, as well as an Alien film on my birthday, I seem to remember going with my brother. The screen was a wrap-around one which was the biggest in Europe.  Remember this was before multiplexes were even thought of. If you the fast forward decades later it was demolished and an X or W shaped building was built by the Weslian insurance who owned the land. Originally they had a little building right next to the cinema. In that building they had half and the other half was occupied by Pinsent Masons Law firm. Pinsents is obviously the best Law  firm, and I’m not saying that because they employed me for 3 years.

So as I sit on my new chair all these memories coming back and I’m sharing them with you.  A chair is a functional thing but it does bring happiness and rest. My dad would sit in his armchair once he came home from Hell, by which I mean 10 hours and more at a steel works, The District Iron and Steel in Brasshouse  Lane in Smethwick, it was sometimes known as Brockhouse. My dad really was a blacksmith  in Kerry and then sweated for 40 years in a steelworks in England. I’m not  just lying to you,  as a  good writer does for a living, my dad really was a blacksmith, and yes I am a Wordsmith.

My mother had a favourite chair it was an old barn chair, so when the back broke we sawed off the back and she continued to use it. It was good to sit at while she peeled the potatoes into the sink. Or to sit in the yard with when we got a sunny day. Dad invested in a cheap tubular steel folding lounger. I can remember Coffee our red setter like dog licking his toes as the sun shone. As for the wooden chair mum used it to stand on and wash the outside windows. When I moved house over 30 years ago I stole that chair, and my mum nagged me for years to bring it back. Its upstairs right now in the box room, in fact it could be 60 years old.

So you can see just how important a humble chair can be. I always wanted a rocking chair and when I set up home I got my heart’s desire. In fact it was a very nice armchair on rockers. I got a suite from Lewis’s in Birmingham, which is now a Court Building, for 1000 pounds, which was a lot of money over 30 years ago. A 3, 2,1 plus a rocker suite in the sale, I can remember dashing to the bank to get the money, or rather the deposit, 10 payments of 100 over 10 months. Then I broke a tooth as we ate our dinner, it was over the August Bank Holiday, and my aunty Hanna used to work in Lewis’s too.

Now a rocker is fun and you enjoy the rhythm, and rhythm is a good thing in music and sex. My daughter may or may not have been conceived years later in that rocking chair. Try it for yourself, rocking chairs are great, though I don’t know if Groupon has any at the moment. Once the children are born you watch as your child is held at the nipple and is fed by your wife. Now you are a family. Though a boyfriend at the nipple can also lead to a baby at the nipple, it depends how much rocking you do in your rocking chair, no matter where you buy it.

Children grow and they steal your rocking chair, so you have to share it, and finally you are ejected from your own chair. Meanwhile your wife just laughs at you, a rocking chair is now a form of contraception, because you won’t catch her in the rocker because the children are using it as a toy, and no longer will the rocker be your joy.

Old age comes along, or infirmity as it seems to be, so you just gently rock in your chair, with just your carer there. You are old and fat with no hair, so the carer puts you to bed. Then her boyfriend sneaks in and they rediscover  the uses of an old and battered  rocking armchair. And in 9 months’ time the boyfriend won’t have her nipples but their new born will, she mixed up your heart pills with her contraceptive pills. So at least you weren’t a pregnant man at 80, but she had the heart to take all the rocking in the rocking chair.

So goodnight to you all reading this, enjoy your Bliss, in a bed, in a car, in field or in a rocking chair, just be happy before the nappy.

p.s. today is the feast of saint martin de porres 3rd Nov

a neighbour longed for a daughter after having 3 sons, my mum said pray to saint Martin, the neighbour had a daughter, she is called Martina

All Souls Day 2nd November

All Souls Day 2^nd November ©

By Michael Casey

Well my back is on the mend so I’ve got a new story for you. As its 2^nd Nov 2017 and its All Souls Day I thought I’d write about that. We have 3 Saints’ Days back to back.  Halloween, which is all Hallowed Eve, All Saints Day, All Souls day and then Saint Martin De Porres follows on 3^rd Nov. Yes I have a Religious calendar on the wall, because I get it free, though I am in much need of prayer what with all my aliments. Now shall I cut to the chase?

November is the month we remember the death, we even have a box on the altar where people slip in a list of their dead, so that we can remember them, yes  almost like a suggestion box for God. In the old days the priest would dress in black and say masses for the dead. All very traditional, and if I have any Jewish or Muslim readers I’m sure you all have your own traditions, equally worthy. The thing about funerals  is that it really is the BEST Mass, the story of Lazarus being already dead and smelly, and Jesus Wept too, such was his love of his friend. Then there is the ceremony, the waving of the metal orb full of incense, the showering of holy water, lots of carrying of candles, and then the final walk to the bottom of the church led by an altar boy, me, carrying a crucifix on a pole.   

As it is also a full Mass you still get holy communion so people have to squeeze past the coffin on their way up. Then you see people touch or even kiss the coffin. I have served lots of funeral masses and attended a few as a neighbour, so I know it really is the best Mass. I have even attended a funeral where there were only 5 or 6 mourners. My mother’s funeral had a full church to bursting and five priests on the altar. She was sometimes the sole mourner for an unloved soul. She would go to the graveyard just so somebody would be there, at the request of the Cannon. The corpse may have not been buried for six months then finally a simple funeral, but my mum was there for that lost soul. Then afterwards the undertaker would give her a lift home in the jump seat of the hearse. So you can see where the undertaker comes from in my novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker.

So why should we remember the dead, our dead, our loved ones? Because if we don’t then we are just machines, we are stones without souls. In November we remember the dead, because their Love carries on within us. You think of Tom who always bought you a pint when you were broke, of your CEO who said one day you’ll be the boss, and now you are, because he encouraged you, and badgered you till you shone like a diamond he knew you could be. You think of Mary your first love who died so tragically saving  your life instead of becoming your wife. You remember  Roger your Polish friend in Chicago whose name you could not pronounce, so he was Roger, he always smiled and encouraged you with your MIT idea. So you became a millionaire and he was head of security at your plant, you were friends for decades, and still you couldn’t pronounce his name.

By remembering the laughter , the fun and games goes on, you may even use a name as a password, RogDERSVaaapo49342, because it reminds you of a fallen buddy. Every time you log in it’s a prayer, just as you always buy an extra pint in the bar for Roger, then you give it to the old man in the corner. We remember because it is our link to the past, to those we love. So this All Souls Day, go to that bar in Chicago with your new Polish friend from Groupon and buy an extra  drink and  give it to that fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham. And if he’s not there, then give it to your CEO, and say cheers to all our pasts, and hello to all our futures.