Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Bonzi Cat (an' 'er).
part 249.

I managed to get Simon into the kitchen alone. "Just where were you last night?"

"Erm, yeah, sorry about that, I did text you."

"When I was in bed. It frightened the death out of Des."

"Did it?" he laughed, then obviously re-ran what I said, "It what!"
He laughed nervously, you are joking aren't you?"

"Am I, you should have been with me, not getting drunk because Scotland lost at rugby, you should be used it by now."

"Ooh that is so cruel."

"Wait, it gets worse, I'm going to bet on Wales beating them next week."

"Nah, we'll get our act together."

"It's in Cardiff."

"So?"

"Well seventy thousand Welshmen does tend to give them a bit of a lift."

"Nah, it's about them trying to play a running game in front of their home crowd, and we just spoil it a little, they get frustrated and start making mistakes. We kick the penalties and win."

"Just like that?"

"More or less."

"You are going to take on a team which has just beaten England at Twickenham, in their home stadium, and beat them?"

"Yes why not?"

"How much?"

"How much what?"

"How much would you bet that I'm wrong?" I was gambling twice here, he could wipe me out in seconds, but I was gambling on him being more interested in the moral victory."

"How much can you afford to lose?"

"Why does it have to be money?"

"Because that's what bets usually are?"

"Okay, let's do something different. If you and Scotland lose at Cardiff on Saturday, then you will do the laundry for the next month."

"Laundry? What sort of bet is that?"

"Too steep for you."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said loudly, then clasped his hands to his head. I laughed gently, serves him right.

"Okay, you're on," he said when he felt the room stop spinning.

"What is my penalty, not that I am going to have to pay one?" I sounded quite nonchalant, but it was very superficial.

"You have to wear sexy clothes for the next month."

"What do you mean, sexy?"

"You know, turn me on stuff."

"You mean dress like a whore?"

"Erm," he blushed, "Ye.. erm, no, just sexy. You know what I mean."

I knew jolly well what he meant, I was just enjoying his discomfort which was made all the worse by his hangover.

"So are we talking top clothes, or underwear?"

"Erm, bbboth?"

"Isn't that two forfeits?" I was winding him up no end and he deserved it.

"NO! Ooh my head," he sat down at the table, looking very fragile.

"It's your own stupid fault." I berated him.

"I know, I said I'm sorry."

"Words are cheap Des..I mean Simon." My slip was deliberate and it had an immediate effect.

"What do you mean? Oh my bloody head."

"Nothing," I pretended to act innocent.

"If I thought there was anything between you two, I'd..."

"You'd what Simon Cameron? I have news for you Lord bloody Cameron, I was in my bed alone last night, where the hell were you?"

"I was unconscious on Tim's floor, which I decorated with pavement pizza."

"I hope you cleaned it up."

"No, but I offered to cop for the bill. It was on a polished block wood floor and a Chinese rug."

"Sounds expensive?"

"Oh don't say that Cathy."

"The corrosives in your stomach plus the tannins in the wine or beer, a nice mess."

"Oh hell!" he actually wailed.

"Don't you ever do this to me again, because you won't get into my bed again for a month, if you do. DO YOU HEAR ME?" I bawled him out without any concern for his fragile state.

He scurried from the kitchen whimpering. I'm not sure where he went, but he kept out from under my feet for a couple of hours.

This time we'd watch the rugby together next weekend and I'd be rooting for Wales and enjoying teaching Simon how to use the washing machine and the other finer points of sorting the washing and doing delicates on a different cycle, or by hand. That would get him! Come on Wales, I sent them positive thoughts for Saturday.

I began to organise the evening meal, assuming that Simon probably wouldn't want to eat very much. So I scaled down the quantity a little. I was tempted to cook up a greasy pan of bacon or fish to punish him some more, but I didn't want to eat that either. Did I really want to punish him? Not really, I loved the silly fool, but I wanted him to act more responsibly. I would keep up the bet, but I made a relatively bland meal of corned beef hash, which I knew he liked.

Stella came breezing in as I was doing the spuds, I told her about our bet, she laughed. I wasn't sure she knew much more about the laundry, but stopped myself from thinking it. Who did it before they met me and absorbed me into their lives. It must have been her, because I know it wasn't Simon, or perhaps she took it to the laundrette or something.

I carried on making the meal and thinking how I'd find out, even if I did seem to be getting rather petty about life.