JIM SLADE ONLY called in to the 'Trough” for a few minutes. The mail
he had expected to collect was yet to arrive, probably due to wet
weather further east. In the interim, he decided to seek out his
neighbour Sam Giles, but a glance around the bar established that Sam
was about as scarce as the mail. Sam though, had not 'gone missing' as
that ridiculous saying goes because he hadn't yet come anywhere to go
nowhere!
"No matter" he muttered, and overhung a stool next to Warren, ‘the
States most eligible Bachelor” who at that moment happened to be
friendless.
"No, it's mine Jim,"
Warren insisted brushing
aside Jim’s money, "I haven't bought you a drink for a long time.
What's with you?"
"Oh things are going along OK you know. I haven't seen your
engagement announced in the paper yet so I expect life’s about the
same with you too?"
"I've been on my own over twenty years Jim, I’m
not likely to surprise anyone around here new."
“Don't be so sure
about that. There are still a few good women out there for the right
man."
“And if I got hooked
up with one of them, the first thing she'd do is rearrange my house."
"A woman's touch." Jim
added.
“My house is neat and clean; I’ve got everythin’
I want in it, and nothing I don’t want.”
Warren paused for a sip of ale, then said: “Take
the bathroom. All I’ve got in there is a towel, soap, toothpaste and
a razor. Nothing else! A woman would clutter it up with bottles of
this and jars of that until there was no room for me. What's more,
she'd spend too much time in there I'd have to make an appointment to
have a shower."
"I suppose you've got a point there Warren, but
married life is all about sharing you know."
“Sharing maybe but not stifling! And what's more, everything in
my house is always in the same place; I can do anything I want with my
eyes shut."
“Oh yeah? I'll bet you
can’t watch television!"
The quip came from Sam, who had slippered up to the pair and
decided to add his two bobs worth to the conversation in spite of
hearing only the final few phrases.
“'You're late Sam," said Jim pointing out the obvious, “But right
on time for your shout.”
“Yes, I am a bit late”, he admitted, probing each pocket in turn
for financial fare. "Got held up sharpenin' the axe for the Missus. A
great help about the place is my wife; I don't know how I'd cope
without her."
Warren was well used to Sam’s little digs and
usually let them pass, but this time, in keeping with the discussion
decided to pitch in a provocative reply.
"I realise you’re tossing a yarn Sam, but the
biggest problem with brining a woman into one's house is that you, the
man, has to live with her, not the other way about”.
“There's not a woman born can live with a man."
“There's not a woman born can live with you,
don't you mean?"
"When you get home tonight Samuel, pick a window
that your wife likes to keep open and tell her that from now on you
want it shut! I know, and so do you, which way it will finish up.”
Warren could see in their faces that he had
driven home his point. Taking advantage of the momentary lull in the
debate he changed the subject. “Anyway Sam, tell us the real reason
for being late."
"I wasn't late if you want the truth. I had an
appointment to see that new doctor we've got and it was him that was
late, not me. I can understand the runnin’ late in the city, but out
here, miles from anywhere, they haven’t got that much to do.”
"You're not pregnant are you?" was the immediate
reaction, quickly followed by a second: "Are you going to survive it
or snuff it?"
"I knew you'd be sympathetic the moment I said
that," he responded equal to the ribbing, "and I'm willin' to bet
you're just as interested in my complaint, but if Jims goin' to do one
of these rare acts of his and shout for us, I'll tell you anyway”.
Jim deliberately remained unmoved!
Sam took an exaggerated breath. "I've been
gettin' red in the face lately for no good reason that I know of--"
"You mean redder than usual?"
He carried through as if he had not heard the remark. “--- and the
doc. doc. tells me I've got too much iron in my system. I've always
said I was a man of steel, and now I’ve got the proof."
Relocating a portion of his stomach to the chest region he
continued. "I've got to see him again next week to drain some blood
out of me. He seems pretty sure that will do the trick.”
"If I was your doctor I'd strap a magnet to your
arse for a few days. 1 reckon that would do the job just as well and a
damned lot cheaper too."
"I'd hate to have a consultation with you for a
touch of diarrhoea!'' Warren remarked.
A few more unsavoury suggestions floated about
before Jim was able to reset the theme of the conversation.
"You
are quite right Warren my boy about having to live with the woman, but
I think you’ve missed the point that most men are happy to hand over
the running of the house. After all, they don't want to tell us how
to treat the tractor of fix the fences.
"That reminds me" Sam interrupted, “The
boundary fence of ours needs repairs and realignin’ on that western
side."
"You never miss an opportunity do you?" Jim winced, clapping his
hand to his head in feigned exasperation. “The only way you can suck
me into talking about that darned fence again is to buy me a beer.
Since it’s not your shout and you’ve never been known to come up ahead
of time, I feel pretty safe."
The lifelong boundary banter silenced, Jim ordered three more
glasses, placed the correct money on the wettest section of the bar,
and took to the bachelor anew.
"Tell me Warren, wouldn't you like to go home to a nice roast of
beef tonight, hot out of the oven? Just think of that smell as you
walk through the door.
"I've got a near new stove in my kitchen and the
oven has never been used! That means it's always nice and clean. If
I had a wife like you say, she'd make a mess inside it and it would
never be the same again."
"If it had a good feed in it I wouldn't haggle
one hoot." Jim drooled.
"Be serious, surely you must get lonely some
times?"
"Of course I get lonely now and then, mostly
around this time of day as well, but I figure the price of the cure is
too high and too risky -- there's no guarantee you know. After a
while I might just wish I was lonely occasionally! Then turning to
Sam, “I'll wager even you get lonely when you and your loved one have
a tiff and she stops talking to you?"
“We don't have arguments.”
“Now Sam, you don't expect us to believe that.
No arguments? You must be psychic!”
“What do you mean, psychic?”
“Well a lot of disagreements start because the
man doesn't understand what the woman wants of him, and that's 'cos
he's not a mind reader. You see, a man has to know what she wants
regardless of what she says; or doesn't say for that matter. Anyone
who lacks that ability must have a go in occasionally!"
The trio picked up on this topic, each coming in
with a personal anecdote or two until well after the .mail had
arrived, been sorted, and eventually hand delivered to the bar by the
store keeper come host Master.
After waiting for a gap in the verbiage, he
apologized for the interruption, explaining that he was doing himself
a favour, as he wished to close the shop and get home to his own
married bliss.
Sliding the mail into his hip pocket Sam took up
the interrogation: “I think maybe you've been alone too long Warren,
but tell us this; we know you dated a few nice sheilas in your young
days, surely there was one or two you fancied?”
“Oh yes, I had a pretty
good time then, and there was always someone tryin’ to drag me down
the aisle, but I wasn't ready for that then. By the time I was
ready, they'd got tied to easier catches."
Warren signalled for three more ales, at the
same time announcing his intention to retire to his peace and quiet at
the conclusion.
“There was a couple of women,” he continued, the alcohol having
set his tongue free and the subject offering a rare chance to do a
little boasting, “…yes, just a couple I think I would have married,
but they left me for, I suppose, better prospects."
“Where do you reckon you went wrong
Warren, we didn't think
you had any faults?”
“It's only women who have no faults Sam; I've told you that
before." Then addressing the pair he said "They're always right. Have
you ever heard one say ‘sorry, I was wrong’?”
There was silence once again.
“Now to answer your question as to why I missed out, in a nutshell
as they say, I suppose I defongerated too much.”
“OK, and what's defongerate mean?"
“I had to wait for that," the bachelor grinned
before taking a deep breath to emulate Sam, in preparation for his
diatribe. “I don't think it's got a meaning. Grandfather used to use
it, and I'm pretty sure he made it up. He’d slip it into a
conversation when he couldn't think of the right word or phrase he
wanted. It sort of substitutes for anything you want.”
“I've never heard of it”, Jim claimed. “Give me
another example.”
“Well the first time I recall him using it, was
when I thought I was helping him do some job or other in his garage.
I was just a kid at the time. Grandma called us to dinner for the
second time, so he put the tools down, looked at me and said: ‘I think
we had better defongerate.’ In this instance I took it to mean
something like: ‘I think we had better wash up and get to the table
before we miss out on a good feed!'”
Sam was inspired, “That's a very handy word!
I'll use that on Spanners next time he asks me what's wrong with my ‘ute."
“On another occasion,” Warren began to
elaborate, but paused to down the last morsel. of amber, “He felt like
slipping down to the local, for a quiet drink, but having used up all
his excuses to get out of the house, just said to Grandma, ‘I think
I'll defongerate for a little while,' and simply disappeared!”
“That is a very useful addition to my vocabulary
too," said Jim draining his glass as well. “In fact, I think I might
just de-defongerate right now!"
Sam, still with half a glass and his shout due,
took the bait. “OK, and what's de-defongerate supposed to say'?"
“It means that I've used up all my excuses to
stay here, so I'll simply disappear to the matrimonial haven." And
with those few words, he bade farewell to all.
Sam stayed on for one more charge; after all it
was his shout! He didn't resent his neighbour leaving him alone
however, since Jim Slade only called into the 'Trough' for a few
minutes.
_________________________________________________________
© F.L. Kemsley 2003
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