When the telephone rang Jaws nearly jumped out his bowl. I was sitting at the coffee table with my electricity bill and two sets of five digit numbers. I had to remove 53879 from 54427 and then multiply the result by £0.1225. My vintage Casio FX-450 was paying dividends again.

“         ” i said nothing, just held on the line until the other voice spoke.
“Good morning, this is the South London Maudsley Hospital, is it possible to speak with a Mr. Tristram Spencer?”
“Hm” I hmm'd, biting the skin on the side of my index finger.
“What, “hm” you are Mr Spencer or “hm” we can speak with him?”
“Both,” I said “ and please, call me Tristram. Only people I owe money to get to call me Mr. Spencer”
“Err, Ok. Tristram IT IS! I'm nurse O'flaherty, who you may remember from your visit here on the 15th” (I think of wrecking ball tits and a big fat matrons arse) “Well, something has come up, a little problem, though a good problem... a fantastic problem even. As you know, John is here with us at the moment – receiving wonderful care, I may add, but this morning he asked to see the doctor and said he was ready to go home. Well, that's the problem. Technically he hasn't got 'a home' he was bumming up with you. We need to know how you'd feel about having him back? Toe to tailing with him once more?”
“Take him back? Already? I was under the impression he couldn't be released until the 17th earliest. My mind hasn't even got around that yet. And after all whats been happening... phww. And we're talking when? Today, tomorrow? Halloween???”
“Monday, Mr. Tristram, we're talking Monday” said the nurse firmly “ John was detained under evaluation only. He's actually been free for release for more than a week now. We cannot stop him leaving – if thats what he wants – all we can do is ensure he has a safe, welcoming place to leave to. John's desire is back with you, but unfortunately that's out of his hands, it's only you who can decide that – whether or not you feel capable of receiving him back into your life? If not, we'll have to look at other alternatives... possibly his parents.”

I thought, but not of anything. Kind of just a blank pause where I hoped an answer would come, or something decisive would happen. Of course it never did. When life gets down to the crunch, when real decisions need to be made, the world and her dog wanders off to the bushes for a shit. You're alone and the clock is ticking down...

“Yes, alright. I'll have him home. But I will not collect him, not after the last debacle. He will have to come here himself. Also, and before any of that, we will need to talk - he and I. I will not have him back here if he refuses to speak with me. That needs to be made very clear.” Even before I had finished I could sense the nurse beaming. As if somehow she had wound the case up; got the deal that everybody hoped for but nobody thought possible. It was an operatic voice that came singing back.“There's no need to worry on that score Mr Spencer, we'll have John call you tomorrow morning – hospital honour! He'll be head over healed – Thrilled, Mr. Spencer, it means absolutely thrilled!”

I wanted to sing back in bass tenor “My names Tristram, bitch!” but there was no time. Before the thought had even gathered motion the line was ringing dead. There was no “thank you”, no “Goodbye”, no nothing. She just cut the deal then cut me short.I laid the receiver down and sat staring vacuously at a sockless foot. And just as I thought nothing would come, that my brain was off for its second crap of the day, the answer suddenly emerged : £67.13p, my electricity cost for the months of April through to June.


  1. Just show him your window boxes Liberace and he'll be yours for life!

    I can't take the credit for that, it was my nephew's reaction. For some reason he is in a bad mood with the world these days.

    By the way, now that I'm here: since your friend John seems to be friendly with those loathsome football types can you please ask him to tell a Mr. Wayne Rooney that I most certainly will not do as he asks. For ANY amount of money.


  2. Do you really agree? Is it really going to happen? I know I was an arse last time but I was not ready... the time was not right. Things were eating away at me, like I had cockroach and silverfish in my brain, behind my eyes, under my foreskin. I was ill, but I'm better now, doing really good! It's like my cock's been pumped up by Mr Universe, right to bursting point. I'm sure if I opened my trousers fast enough I could cover the fucking doctor in bucket loads of cum, like spraying a car or something. Oh fuck, I need to wank this thing off right now, with both hands and the sheets stuffed up my arse, like I used to do with screw-drivers and snooker balls. But we're not allowed screwdrivers here, but maybe they'll make an exception seeing how I'm so well. Fuck! Fuck! Shiiit! My cock is right in your face and I'm squeezing your balls like mincemeat. You disgusting little fuck! You look like your mother, gagging, choking, like there's a pair of balls hanging out your mouth, like you've got face cancer, like that guy on the internet. You remember, the spaniard! GEE-Zus!!! i just want to fuck, stare at the ceiling, then fuck some more. Like the first times... before erections were days of frustration at a time... something annoying you'd see out the corner of your eye. What happened? Where did my little funeral whore go? In what world did we end up and thinking what? I wonder where Luke is? If his cock has also been pumped up by Mr Universe? If he fucked better than me? he was an arse muncher too you knowx? Of course you know, we talked of that before. Like death got you going. In the first weeks anyway. I thought you was one of these guys that wanted to fuck corpses. It was all thoise questions you asked. Luke, luke, luke... and then your cock would be firing cylinders all over the place. like me now. just spurting freely away, more like pissing than coming. Oh fuck... this is the riser from hell. Its coming back, like seriously rising as it cums. i've never seen that before; the more I come the harder I get and your just a head of sperm and balls and cockroaches and silverfish and there's shit on the sheets and I'm laying here in heaven... with you, it's just fucking heaven!

    i'll phone you tomorrow my darling... monday is very soon. X

  3. wow john sounds kinda horny there, dont cha think?
    maybe you could bring him home on da bus
    what cha fink?


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