John is not half as stupid as I look. From when my watch alarm sounded at 7.30 this morning I remained on the floor staring at John's arm which hung limp over the side of the bed. At 8.13 his hand clenched into a fist, uncurled, and began patting around on the bedside table in search of his Elvis Costello type glasses. In an attempt to discover just how he gets up, dressed and into his wheelchair so painlessly, I closed my eyes leaving just a tiny gap between top and bottom lashes.

At first I couldn't see John, but as is often the case I could sense him. He was sitting up and looking over to see if I was awake.
“Tristy? Tristy?” he whispered. I lay silent. Next I felt something light bounce off my head and land on my chest. It was an old, dirty, twisted out cigarette butt! I groaned as if in deep slumber and angrily brushed it away. I sensed John freeze. He was just watching, observing. Next a shadow passed over my eyelids. What was he doing now? Discretely, I peered down and saw the palm of John's hand closing in over my nose and mouth. My God, he's going to kill me! I thought. But no, at least not now, not today. Instead he held his hand suspended an inch above my gob. The crafty bastard was testing the strength of my breathing! This was calculated and systematic Tristram Spencer Benefit Fraud – quite unbelievable! After a moment, satisfied I was sleeping, John removed his hand. I thought his tests were done, that I had passed, but not quite. Now John's hand was reaching down low, fumbling around near my groin. For one self-deluded moment I thought he was gonna jerk me off in my sleep. The crotch of my brown paisley pyjama bottoms started to rise. But of course not, he was in fact reaching for the bed sheet which I had pushed off in the night. John pulled the cover up and over my face. That's when my eyelash framed world went black – I couldn't see a thing, not even a shadow. With my eyes now wide open I lay in the dark listening for a noise, ready to pull the sheet back and catch John in the act, whatever that was.

I listened. Hard like never before. But apart from what sounded like someone's head moving about on a pillow all was silent. Then after what must have been a five minute pause I heard John's wheelchair being moved. That must be it!  I thought, All stations go, Go, GO!!! I threw the cover clear and sprung up like a young gazelle. But all I saw was the back of John's head, two elbows and his chair hastily disappearing down the hallway. Fuck!!! How the hell did he do that? So tomorrow I have another plan, and this one will really put him to the test.

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