Thursday, September 29, 2016

WRITERS WRITE... WRITING PARTNERS FEUD ~ Feghoots Out and About Hamlet 5

From the Sin-Sin in Cinderella Series ~
Subb Weigh2much, a gent who despised All the King's horses and All the King's men Building and Other Innate Crap Department, decided to re-roof his house without applying for a permit.  Smooth move, Ex-Lax®.  Was he being spiteful?  Cheap?  Or was he just devoid or moral ethics?  Possibly clueless?  Mostly a moron?  Was that going too far in personality assignation?  Probably with anyone else, but Subb was a unique breed and marched to the beat of his own band.  Aye, he had a marching band that was part of every parade south of Hamlet.  Everyone north of Hamlet preferred to march to the beat of Rosey Babes on Parade, floats made out of Rosebuds, all the daughters of Pric M’fingron Rosebud.  He was a prolific type of gent and had over fifty daughters, of course, from different lasses.

Anywhoppin, Subb had completed most of his illegal repairs, a skilled craftsperson who once worked with his hands at the Molding Boobs, Buns and Pastry for Tarts Factory.  He had made employee of the month almost constantly.  None could mold a falsie or bunsie like he could.  Now, his wife didn't like his job, for he used live models for accuracy, and was always feeling up large ones and wide ones, soft ones and hard ones, pruney ones and smooth ones, dark ones and light ones, critter ones and human ones, stiff ones and sagging ones.  He tried to explain that this was no different than an actor pretending to kiss or a doctor checking out a patient. 

At first, she was just fine with that, but then she caught him with a newbie tart, she giving him her cherry.  His wife gave him an ultimatum, and he now works for Out Houses and Back Door Suppliers.  Lucky for him, she hadn't realized he had been checking out every aspect of back dooring, just for accuracy's sake.  Aye, that kind of back dooring.  (brick shat house)

Anybricking, preparing to eliminate the sag in the eaves at the end of the house he positioned all the tools and material.   He was meticulous that way, all the hammers together, all the wenches and wrenches lines up (he needed the former to hand him the wrenches) all the saws fresh from singing lessons (they were also part of his band instrumental section) nuts, bolts and screws all separated by size (His days at the factory taught him size mattered).  Aye, he was ready to begin but unbeknownst to him there was hidden rotten wood which gave way under the strain of his weight.  At first he heard a loud groan, and thought it his stomach for he hadn’t had breakfast, but that was followed by a splintering noise.  He looked about for his pal, Woody Woodpecker.  They had been buds from back in Middle School, where they excelled in woodshop.  Each had their own forte, Subb majored in oiling it well and Woody in measuring it for size.  (We are talking about wood not wood)

Alas, before Subb realized it wasn’t about his stomach or Woody, he fell, grabbed the eave momentarily stilling his plummet, time enough for him to cuss and scream, but the eave broke free ripping roof and that resulted in the man falling twenty plus feet to the ground, oooof, and to add insult, the torn-free material fell onto him. It all happened in slow motion, for slow motion was the option of the fairytale world itself.  Sometimes it sped up, but mostly during disasters it slowed up for the full effect.  Fairytale world had a mother-earth sort of thing going for it.  So, Subb felt every bit of the fall, the rush of wind, the ground hitting first his arse, then his back, arms, legs and finally his head.  Fairytale world made sure to do the eyes popping out of his head thing, and then plopping back into their sockets.  Wood fell first as if getting him back for all that oiling, aye he built his roof from the pieces he personally rubbed well.  Then came everything else, even the tools, nuts, bolts and screws.  Being screws, they screwed round and round before hitting the ground.

Neighbors pulled him from the debris.  Laughter smothered, for as much as they empathized with Subb, one had a tough time not being tickled by seeing the fall in slow motion.  All the King's horses and All the King's men EMTs and SMBDers BEAVERs (Bustling Eager Amphibian Voraciously Enjoying Rivers) responded. 

He recovered in the hospital, and was pleased to see some of his handiwork from the factory fitted to the medical staff.  For a moment, he questioned giving up that job, but remembered how hurt his wife had been, and also she was a herbalist who cooked all his meals, which meant she could season everything well enough to make his eyes roll back in delight, or roll back in poisonous seizures. 

Anyfallin’, he hired a contractor to resolve his roof fiasco.   The man used the best shingles, best tools and charged less than Subb could ever have imagined.  Subb didn’t realize that the contractor was et-ing Subb’s wife all up.  Whoops, left out a word, et-ing Subb’s wife’s cooking that is. 

A month later, Subb was able to leave to go home.  Sitting waiting for a ride an orderly said, "Yesterday, my pup ate a frozen piece of crap."

"What?"  Subb was unaware why the orderly shared such and hoped to brush him off.

"A poopsicle!"

Bad karma floated on the valley winds and can whisk upon one in a snap of an attitude.

All the King's horses and All the King's men Loose Strings and Cheese Unit arrived at the hospital and arrested him.

"What!?" exclaimed the man spitting profanity. "You M**F**ers (Mean Flatfooters) are going to arrest for falling off my own roof?  Bullshat" 

"Oh no," replied the King's horse being polite yet professional. "We're arresting you for tearing off the edge of your roof without a permit.   That's a clear case of illegal eavesdropping."

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Cover Reveal and Giveaway~ The Guardian by Sarah Fine