Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1504

Despite being seriously wounded, Simon clasped my sobbing body to him and hugged me. He held me tightly and eventually I calmed down enough to speak. “I’m sorry,” I managed to say before more tears overcame me and became emotionally aphasic again.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe with me, alright.” He gave me a little squeeze to show I was protected by him and I nodded but kept crying, as much upset by my attempt to blind him as the dream, which now seemed ridiculous.

I calmed down again and he asked me if I was okay, I nodded my response. “Bad dream?”

“Yes, some man was attacking me while I was in the bath.” I shuddered as I spoke.

“I hope it wasn’t me?” he replied.

“No, of course not–I’m sorry, I scrammed you.”

“Okay, apology accepted, if you’re okay, I suppose I’d better see the damage.” He hugged me then got out of bed and went into the bathroom. I followed behind, blushing with shame. How could I do such a thing–it’s like hurting one of the children–I could never do that consciously.

He was bathing his face with cold water on his flannel. I apologised again, saying I didn’t mean it. He looked at me in the mirror, “God, I’d hate to think what you could do if you did mean it.” I blushed even deeper red.

He finally allowed me to dress his wound with some antiseptic cream and a plaster. I was wide awake and felt I wanted a cup of tea. I mentioned this to Si and he agreed he could drink one as well. We slipped down to the kitchen.

“Are you sure you’re okay with possibly having Caroline as a helper–if she’s suitable, of course?”

“Yeah, if you’re happy, then I am too.”

“You can be so sweet sometimes, Simon.”

“Sometimes? I beg your pardon, I’m sweet all the time.”

“Yes of course you are, my mistake. It’s just that sometimes you are extra sweet, to me at least.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I just wanted to acknowledge it.”

“Oh, okay.” I think I saw his chest puff out.

“You don’t have to like Caroline, if you don’t...”

“You’ll get very cross.”

“Eh?”

“If I don’t like her.”

“No, if you don’t like her we won’t employ her.”

“If she’s a friend of yours she’s probably perfect for the job.”

“She isn’t a friend exactly...”

“She isn’t an enemy, I hope.”

“No, she went to the same school as I did, so she was a vague acquaintance.”

“She’s younger than you then.”

“How d’you know that?”

“First, if she was older you’d have remembered from school. You don’t, so she must be younger. If you liked her, you’d know more about her.”

“Goodness, Sherlock, you astonish me.”

“So I was right then?”

“Um–no, but it was a good try.”

“Huh,” he said placing his cup noisily on the draining board. “I’m off to bed–you coming?”

It was now well after half past two and I was really tired as we got back into bed. “Is that what really happened in your dream?” Simon asked as he pulled the bed clothes back over him in our lukewarm bed.

“I told you, some strange bloke from the press tried to grab me when I was in the bath.”

“Weird,” he said and lay down to sleep. I didn’t want to dream it again, so I lay there and worried. I must curb my need to solve other people’s problems. I shouldn’t have as good as offered the job to Caroline. Simon is right to have reservations, we’re a household, not some sort of tranny reserve, where hunting is illegal.

I don’t deserve him, I felt as I drifted into a troubled sleep. When Trish woke me at half past seven, I felt like a zombie. I think I possibly acted like one, too. I lumbered round the house rather than my usual graceful gait–ha, you believed me, too. I’m about as graceful as a rhinoceros in a china shop.

While I was eating my slice of toast and drinking my tea, the radio mentioned some place in America where they had someone release a whole pile of wild animals which the local police shot. They shot eighteen Bengal tigers–one of the rarest of the big cats. Some local resident was saying he was glad they did it, because once they’d tasted human blood... What a total fucking idiot, pity the police didn’t shoot him, too.

Apparently the bloke who owned them, the animals not the police, let them loose, then shot himself. I’m glad he did that, because it saved me the trouble–why did he have all the animals in the first place? Why did the state allow him to collect them? Planet America is a strange place.

At lunch time, I heard Gaddafi had been killed and how everyone was celebrating. I felt very distant from them, anyone’s death is a tragedy, even the bloke who released the tigers. Sometimes I wonder if I’m on the wrong planet or something because I seem to be swimming in the opposite direction to everyone else. If that’s the case, then the law of majority tends to suggest I must be the one in the wrong. But then, I’ve always been a goat, not a sheep–an individual, not a follower.

“You seem very quiet today,” remarked Stella.

“Yeah, didn’t sleep very well.”

“So it’s just tiredness, then?”

“Probably, why?”

“I just wondered, that’s all.”

“C’mon, you usually have a reason for saying things like that.”

“No–okay, I could see you thinking about something which looked like it was a bit of a problem. At least your expression suggested you were struggling with a problem.”

“I was thinking about all those poor tigers in the States. They were all shot.”

“Yeah, bit sad, but at least they didn’t diminish the wild stock, did they?”

“I hope not–I just thought it was ridiculous that he was allowed to keep them like that without some sort of provision for disposing of them–like to zoos.”

“It’s done now, so it’s not worth worrying your pretty little head about–now, what’s the real problem?”

“Did I do the wrong thing in inviting Caroline to apply for the job here?”

“Ah, that’s much more like it.” She stared at me then said, “No, you didn’t do the wrong thing, I don’t mind if we have a man or a woman doing the job as long as they’re safe with the kids and can do the job.”

“I thought Simon felt as if I was setting up a tranny sanctuary.”

“You did that ages ago when you took on the children and then Maureen–so far your judgement has been very good, and I don’t think we’ll have to shoot any who escape.”

“Shoot any who escape? What are you on about?”

“Tigers–trannies–never mind.”

“That is a bit sick, Stella.”

“Yeah, okay. Hadn’t you better go and collect the girls, it’s three o’clock.”

“Oh no,” I jumped up and grabbed my bag and car keys.

“Cathy.”

“Not now, I’m late.”

“Cathy.”

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to wear shoes?” she said when I turned and faced her.

“Oh bugger,” I said as I looked down and saw my bare feet. What was happening to me?

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Comments

Regarding the tigers, etc.

Ohio, where this happened has the laxest laws of any state when it come to captive wild animals. If the news articles I saw were correct, apparently it is not even necessary to have a permit to keep any non-native animals, so the only animals he had permits for were the bears from North America. And that means the state did not care about the lions and tigers and other animals he let loose.

But as far as shooting them once they were loose, until they could find a way to capture them humanely, that is about the only choice. The animals were loose, and they did not have tranquilizer guns for all of them or people trained to use them. Once they had a number of trained people and tranq guns, they have been trying to avoid killing them. But even after that, some have been killed because there was nobody available, and the authorities felt it unsafe to wait.

Holly

It's nice to be important, but it's more important to be nice.

Holly

The World Is Far Too Sad.

I just feel burdened down, so this epi matches my present state exactly. Sometimes I wonder if the author lives in my home? I spent the day yesterday with a gay man who wanted to ride his bike, worked for a woman who paid me less than what she promised, then the poor Tigers, and I mourn the loss of another life wasted. Ghadaffi could have helped his people so much but instead spent his money on excesses for his family, to include a sadistic daughter, and drunken sons.

Cathy sometimes buries her plow in muck. The desire to help is laudible, but spending ones good will in one place, is questionable.

Gwendolyn

Tigers - Lions....

Tigers, lions... Big Diff... Seems I recall that the Marquis of Bath had quite a number of Lions (Lions of Longleat if memory serves) back in '77 when I toured his mansion...

I've never had a dream go quite THAT bad... But, then I'm not so much in the papers and such. I have had dreams that caused me to roll out of bed or weak up in a sweat though... Not fun.

Thanks for the story...

Anne

P.S. I understand it's Day Three of "Occupy Minus Morgul".

I was watching the news

I was watching the news regarding the Zanesville, Ohio wild animals, and Jack Hanna was on. He, for those who live on the east side of the big pond (Europe) is a noted animal expert and zoologist, with "creds" going back into the 1950's. He was explaining that the animals had to be put down by firearm rather than a tranquilizer dart, because they a) did not have the items available, b) too many LARGE animals running wild and no-one knew their weights, which he said had to be determined so the proper dose level could be put into the darts, c)everything was happening at night, and it was hard enough to try and tranquilize an animal in the daylight; and d) the darts do not work immediately, but can take several minutes or more to take effect. During that time, he stated an animal, especially the tigers could easily attack and harm or kill a person. He was actually crying when he was reporting to and talking with Anderson Cooper of CNN. Very, very sad. I do know from personal experience, gained in Germany, that the darts do not always do what is expected. We had to resort to deadly force to dispatch a large, very angry wild boar that had found its way into the base housing area after 3 darts failed to knock him out. I firmly believe that NO wild animals, exotic or not, should ever be allowed outside an authorized zoo, and NO person who is NOT certified as an appropriate handler be allowed to interact with said animals.
I guess what is happening in Libya, rather makes this past few days very interesting in a historical context.