Gleðileg jól!
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
And may the evil Yule cat Jólakötturinn NOT park its terrifying arse on your lap this Festive Season.
As a festive treat, or maybe not, I thought I'd post a small chapter from my upcoming tome, Bits & Bobs. Thanks to the wonderful fans who have stuck with me through the years and to everyone who has bought a copy of my chunterings.
Special shout out to houseboy super fan, Tiff - so sorry for your hard year, I hope you find some peace and comfort in the season and that the year ahead brings better times.
Have a wonderful Christmas, all, or whatever you celebrate. Let's hope 2025 brings some real peace and goodwill to this fucked up planet of ours.
xxx
Gillibran Brown
A SHIT BIT
I see I’ve landed in shit, but not my shit. We’re talking Dick’s shit here, but not literally you understand. Dick is fully house-trained. However, one cannot deny he has a thing about his bowels, not a kinky thing, as you might expect from him, but rather an anxiety thing. If he can’t go or his poo changes colour he panics and immediately starts Googling, or Poogling, as I call it, for information on what it might mean.
He believes his fears stem from having an old-fashioned nanny who believed regular bowel motions were linked to the purity of one’s soul. If Dick’s bowels didn’t oblige by opening according to a strict daily schedule it was a sign of moral corruption. (Had she known of his sexual proclivities her worst fears would have been realised.) Having a beloved uncle die from bowel cancer also contributed to his anxiety.
Anyway, let me take you back in time a while. Picture the scene, if you will. It’s a fine spring morning. The sun is shining, bathing the quasi-mansion in golden sunlight. It’s the weekend, so there’s no hustle and bustle, no rush to get out of the house and off to work. Shane has breakfasted, drunk a plantation of coffee, and got dressed, before holing up in the study to attend to a few matters before officially ‘relaxing’ for the day.
Dick has also breakfasted and trotted off upstairs to prepare for the day ahead, happily anticipating a round of golf. His first port of call before showering is the toilet. It’s that time of the day and his bowels are primed and ready to evacuate. He prefers to use the main bathroom for this event rather than the loo in the ensuite, for fear of sullying the master bedroom with unacceptable odour, should his poo pong escape the confines of the ensuite.
As befits a faithful, hard working houseboy, I cleared the breakfast pots before heading upstairs to begin my own ablutions. Passing the main bathroom, I halted, startled, as the door opened a crack and Dick’s voice issued forth, along with an unsavoury aroma. He sounded panicky.
“Psst, Gilli, Gilli?”
A strange foreboding descended upon me. Edging away from the door, I said, cautiously, “what?”
“Come in here a minute.”
Foreboding deepened. Was Dick in the grip of one of his kink attacks? Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a spot of kink, but there’s a time and place, and a smelly toilet isn’t one of them, not in my book.
“Why?” I edged even further from the door.
“Just come in.”
The door opened a little more by way of invite. There was nothing inviting about the smell wafting out. Wrinkling my nose, I said. “You’re a nice guy, Dick, but your shit stinks. I’m not coming in, not without a gas mask.”
“Please. I want your opinion on something.”
“Like what?”
“There’s something in my motion.”
“What do you mean, something in your motion?”
“I’m not sure, that’s why I want your opinion.”
“I’m not looking at your shit.”
Exasperation sharpened Dick’s voice. “Help me out here, Gilli.”
“I don’t want to. Get Shane to look.”
“You know what he’s like. He has no patience. I just want you to look and say if you think this thing is what I think it is.”
“Thing? What thing?” Foreboding turned to horror. What the fuck was in there with him?
His reply did nothing to calm my fears.
“I think I’ve passed a tapeworm or part of one, the head end. It’s pretty big. Just have a look, see what you think. I want to be sure before I seek medical help.”
I had no idea what a tapeworm looked like, and I didn’t want to know. The very thought repulsed me. “I’m not looking at it, Dick. You can’t make me. I’m telling Daddy.”
“Don’t you dare. Stop being a big baby and have a look.”
“No.” Turning my head, I roared over my shoulder. “SHANE. SHANE.”
“You backstabbing little traitor.” Dick banged the bathroom door shut.
Shane, clearly annoyed, shouted from the hall below. “What are you bawling about?”
“Dick’s trying to make me look at his poo and I don’t want to.”
Shane, being no stranger to Dick’s sudden ‘foibles’ took the stairs in record time. “What the hell is going on here?”
“He’s passed a massive tapeworm, and he wants me to look at it.”
“Good God! A tapeworm?”
The expression on Shane’s face reflected my own sense of revulsion, but being made of sterner stuff he banged on the bathroom door with the flat of his hand and roared that he was coming in. The door closed behind him.
There was a brief silence, and then a sharp crack followed by a squawk. A slap on the arse if I wasn’t very much mistaken, either that or Shane had shot the tapeworm and put it out of its misery. After all, living up Dick’s arse couldn’t be much fun, not with his obsessions.
The bathroom door opened and Shane reappeared.
“Is it a tapeworm?”
“A beansprout.” He said, deadpan. “He needs to chew his bloody food more.”
Ah, of course, I’d made a stir-fry for dinner the night before and been rather generous with the baby mung beans.
“A fucking beansprout!” I started to laugh, until Shane landed a smack on my backside, making me squawk.
“Sometimes I think I’m the only sane person in this house. You’re as bad as him, making a drama out of nothing.” He marched downstairs.
The bathroom door opened and Dick came out, looking sheepish.
“Sorry about that, hun. I got carried away. I have a horror of tapeworms. A cousin of my mother had one once, and it made him dreadfully ill. According to him, it was over two feet long, and he was shitting bits of it for weeks. He said it looked like tagliatelle.”
“Thanks for sharing that, Dick. I fancied having carbonara for dinner later, but I don’t think I’ll bother now, or ever again. Your entire family is bonkers, you do know that, don’t you?”
“Anyone can get a tapeworm, Gilli. Parasites are great levellers, they’ll infest anyone.”
And on that revolting note, he ruffled my hair and strode off towards the bedroom to get dressed.
And there ends this shit bit. Time to take another leap.
Copyright Gillibran Brown 2024