I wrote this yesterday left a few copies out, passed a few on and showed it on my phone, and created a few sniggers, giggles and raucous laughter. So here goes- another parody, but all my own work!
Fifty Seconds of Ray
Maria had looked forward to this moment all day. She had treasured her long soak in the hot tub, though the disappointment of the ‘Radox’ having dried up was more than made up for by the bottle of ‘Matey’ she found in the back of her bathroom cupboard, left there by a lodger several years, and several lovers,in the past.
A glass of rosé, a little sweet perhaps, but not bad for the £5 for two bottles bargain bucket, moistened her lips. She quivered in anticipation of the moment of pure rapture that would surely envelop her ‘ce soir’. She sated her expectant appetite with a portion of ‘pain et frites’, although her burly, rough hewn object of her desire preferred the colloquial ‘chip butty’.
Meanwhile Ray was finishing his shift at the building site. He pulled ‘The Sun’ from his back pocket, gave one last longing look at the innocent young maiden on page three, and flung it lazily to the recycling heap where it sat, fluttering in the wind. He tugged his pants, rather hopefully labeled ‘Next’ over his cavernous bum crack. Tramping into the Portakabin, he grabbed the first spray to hand in his locker, showering the exposed hairs of his manly armpits with the clear but strangely aromatic scent. He knew just how much the pungent aroma, the heady mix of day old sweat and ‘Febreze’ aroused the flames of passion in his woman.
He drove home at a slightly daring 34 mph, pausing at each traffic light to swig from a bottle of ‘White Lightning’, to scratch his crotch and to sing along to the chorus of ‘I’m Horny! Horny! Horny! Horny!’ on the radio of his vintage XR3 Cabriolet. The wheels span and screamed as he pulled away from the final set of lights, and swung serenely into the cul-de-sac.
Such was his excitement that he forgot the dregs of his drink, which spilled on the fake leopard skin seats, adding to the other unidentifiable stains and smells. He slammed the door with his ‘Nike’ trainers, ran clumsily up the gravel path, and opened the door.
‘Come in my Big Bear! There’s something special for you in the cave today!’ came a voice from the boudoir.
‘Would my little pudding like a quarter pound of prime Barnsley sausage?’
‘No! I’d much prefer stuffing!’ but the double entendre was lost on his dinosaur brain.
Ray lumbered down the hall and into the living room, the backs of his hairy hands trailing along the floor, his brow furrowed not in concentration but due to his Neanderthal heritage. He ripped the t-shirt from his torso, unbuckled his belt and half fell, half lunged onto the chaise longue.
It was over in less than a minute. He rolled off, expressed his gratitude in an explosive expression of flatulence, and pulled his pants back up from his knees.
‘Is that it?’
‘Sorry love. Footie’s on in half an hour and I’ve got a Chinese coming at quarter past. You know what I’m like without my grub. Do us a favour love, make us a cup of tea. I’m parched after all that effort.’
‘You old romantic fool!’ Maria said. ‘That’s why I love you so much!’ she added, whist thinking, ‘Is there room under the patio for this old bastard, just like the last two losers?’