I decided I’d be gentlemanly in front of the ladies. I said, “Hello, ladies.”
“Hello to you, too, Raymond,” Tabs said. “Is Neal filling you in on the excitement of island life?” She had become slutty perfection indeed. My, how quickly that doe-eyed, fresh-faced thing had gone native.
“Yes, I suppose he is.”
Neal’s face was childlike. “We went to visit the sacrificial rock.”
Elspeth squeaked, “No! You shouldn’t be up and about.” Her eyes were moist and wide, as though she were worried about a wounded kitten.
“Thanks, Elspeth. But a short walk is good for a sprain. I didn’t want the blood pooling.”
“Neal,” I said, “there’s just one thing. A few days ago, back on the bus, we made a deal about that piece of red plastic.”
“Indeed we did, Ray.”
“Excellent. So hand it over and I’ll consider us square.”
“Oh, um … you see.” Neal and the girls exchanged guilty looks. “Your piece of red plastic. Right.”
“So you do acknowledge that it rightfully belongs to me.”
“Oh, no question, Ray. You earned it fair and square for removing Shelley’s skin tag, bloodbath and all.”
We lapsed into awkward silence. As I am known to be debonair at times, I thought I’d say something witty. “Come on, then, you didn’t do something stupid and stuff it up your arse, did you?”
Hydraulic jackhammers couldn’t have roused the trio more quickly. “Who told you!?”
“Ha, ha. Yes, yes. Good fun. Good fun. Give me my plastic, Neal.”
They stared at me. It was sinking in: Neal actually had stuck my sacred plastic up his arse.
“Neal, tell me this isn’t true.”
“Now, Ray, you need to know—”
“Know what? What could explain this?”
“Here’s the thing, Ray. I didn’t stick it up my arse to keep it from you. I stuck it up my arse because …”
“Yes?”
“Because Elspeth thought it was just the right size and shape for a ripping good prostate massage.”
“She what?!”
“Really did the trick, too, I must say.” Neal winked at the blushing Elspeth.
I was speechless. Who wouldn’t be?
“And then it got stuck in there sideways and, as you know, I developed pussy fatigue. I might be able to remove it, but the rectal trauma could be horrific. I believe I should leave it there until it vacates the premises naturally.”
“Neal, you are going to take a pair of giant forceps, right here and now, and pry my much-deserved treasure from your butt.”
Everyone giggled.
“Just what is so funny?”
Elspeth said, “Just sounded sort of gay is all—you prying your treasure from Neal’s bumhole.”
“I’m so glad I was able to lighten the mood.”
Neal looked at me with sad eyes. “Doctor’s orders. I’ll keep you posted, Ray.”
Fucker.
And that’s when things stopped being merely bad and became catastrophic.
Dear The Gods,
Yes, it’s me! Yes, that’s right, Raymond Gunt. Hope you’ve been well lately, causing a few storms, frightening the occasional simple village folk … life’s great when you’re The Gods. Thunder! Lightning! Fucking irreparably with Raymond Gunt’s life! Whoops … did that slip out? Sorry. Feeling a bit emotional is all, but I was wondering, now that we’re having a small chat, could you focus your attentions on the people around me, rather than on me? Not that I want others to suffer. More like I, myself, would just like to live in a bit of comfort. If that means a lessened quality of life for those around me, so be it. As you can see, I am a reasonable man.
Yours,
Raymond Gunt
42
So, here’s the thing.
Having adjusted somewhat to the fate of my red plastic, I was going about my day, having adventures like any of us do—in this case, contemplating a not unpleasant ménage à trois with Elspeth and Tabs (Hooray! Finally! Took long enough!)—when a sound from the tent area, and from my deepest memories, ripped through my soul like an industrial meat slicer.
“Raymond Gunt? Raymond, are you here? I know you are. I can smell fear in the air.” It was a woman’s voice, crusty and loveless, seasoned by a lifetime trapped on a conveyor belt of fags and discount booze.
Neal, Tabs and Elspeth stared at me with raised eyebrows. All colour must surely have drained out of my face, sunburned or not.
The voice continued, “Or should I say Herry Potter? How the fuck could anyone be stupid enough to spell ‘Harry Potter’ with an ‘e’?”