Dot-nose, Dwarves, E but D and Talent?

Outside the hairdresser, Dot-nose and E but D sat on the wall together….both lost in their own silent worlds which had been fuelled by perhaps one too many fags and three or four too many drinks…….

Now is the time for a little more information on these two sad and rather unfortunate women!

Dot-nose and The Dwarves

For years now Dot-nose had had the feeling of being followed. For several years it had been a constant feeling and she often felt totally drained, but then, for no apparent reason, the feeling diminished slightly. Now it was less frequent but nevertheless still there. Sometimes when she glanced over her shoulder she could see them. There were always two of them, she suspected they were dwarves. But lately she had noticed they were bigger. She felt confused as she didn’t know whether they were actually bigger or if the nightmare stalkers were just magnified in her mind. Nine years of being stalked, followed, trailed had taken its toll on Dot-nose and though her days felt relatively free, she knew that at about 3.30pm it would all begin again and that she wouldn’t have any peace of mind until 9pm when, mysteriously, she felt alone once more, without the need to constantly look over her shoulder. Then and only then a mood of tranquillity swept over her. It was at these times that she relished her drink of Safeway whisky and diet coke and could really feel that the dwarves were probably linked to something in her past, perhaps linked to the Ghosts of Ilf, a foolish moment of frivolousness which she could never completely exorcise from her life. As she sat there she wondered again…..and again…..and again! 

She had resolved to see a psychiatrist, who could enter her mind and explain these two small people away with a wave of his hand and some mumbo jumbo about repressed feelings and a bad relationship with her father. She had kept the appointment but after 45 meetings with the psychiatrist she still had not progressed. They, Juxtapose and Pinpoint, for the Doctor of the Mind had told her to give them names, were still there, always there, haunting her and reminding her of That Place that she had left behind to go and live in her small rooms which had Few Amenities and certainly Nothing Comfortable in them.

 

E but D and the Creative Writing!

Many years before, when E but D’s traumas were not even a twinkle in her then bright eyes, she had been told by her beautiful and successful teacher that she had a talent for writing. Indeed this was a little far fetched as E but D had copied both the title and story that she had reverently given to her teacher and then proceeded to carry it off as her own work. As the years went by, the fact that it was a plagiarised piece of work that prompted the high praise of her teacher completely slipped poor E but D’s mind and her fantasy of being a great writer grew and grew until the time came when she simply had to get down and actually write something! She had slaved night and day, her two index fingers becoming sorer and sorer as she hovered over the keys of her second hand typewriter. Then came the day when she finished her manuscript. She read it through with deep satisfaction washing through her body.

E but D’s Creative Writing

When I woke up underneath a caravan in Bognor Regis I realised it had all gone horribly wrong. I crawled out and faced the sea. Sharp, cold, terribly wet and terrible. The raft lay not a hundred yards off, shattered beyond recognition. But I recognised it, for I had painted it purple, and you don’t see many of those. I watched as two men in a fishing boat sailed by, pointing, pointing. It was then that I began to understand. I had no clothes on. I rushed around grabbing at straws and hastily made a deep sea divers costume, a necklace and a bracelet. I couldn’t manage a ring; it kept braking. This was the final straw, so I popped it between my lips and chewed, looking casual. I had to look casual. It was my job. Without a backward glance I made my way towards Tahulas. I found Jim and Arnold there, and, by the look on their faces I knew they weren’t expecting to see me. Not dressed like this, anyway.

‘What’s the matter?’ I said, ‘Too casual for you?’

 They each wore a casual cardigan and casual slippers, but I could see the sweat brake out when they caught sight of my casual flippers. I pulled a cigarette from Big Jim’s packet and lit it. Too late and a little too casual, I set fire to my deep sea divers helmet. As casually as I could I stepped back two paces and emptied a full pint of lager and lime, plus a few salted peanuts, for effect, over my head. That did the trick and my new hairdo looked kinda casual-in fact it looked more than casual, almost wispy.

 ‘I thought you were heading for Great Yarmouth.’ Said Arnold.

 ‘I thought you’d think that,’ I said, casually, not mentioning the raft, the broken dreams, the lies, the despair, the hurt, the terrible anguish; how the sea had tugged at the raft, tossing it this way and that; how I’d lost my clothes, my mind, my own dear casual slippers; everything; not three yards into the sea. How I’d clawed my way up the beach to lie under that caravan for a nap, hoping that when I woke it would all change; that Tahulas Casual Club would just be a bad dream, a memory. But I’d been in the casual club just a little too long, and tried to leave a little too late. I should have seen it coming, but I was just a little too darn casual for my own good.

Who were those dwarves?

What about E but D’s creative writing??? And her spelling???

That’s All!

See Ya xx