THE GILDED HORN OF OEDIPUS

THE GILDED HORN OF OEDIPUS

The Gods were restless and agitated, as they looked down upon humankind. Tired of the relentless monotony of copulating, drinking fine wine and flatulating, they searched the landmass below for some additional stimulation.

At first, their attention was focused on the plains of Abraham. However, after a short while it soon became apparent that a small tavern on the borders of North Wembley and Sudbury in England had become their target. The tavern was named "The Mitre" and was frequented by local plebs who spoke in the vernacular speech of estuarine English and drank huge quantities of fully hoped British ale, cider and gaseous Germanic beverages.

In particular, one individual had taken their collective eye as he  proceeded about his drunken business in a ramshackle way throughout the three separate bars in the establishment.  As usual, he was shirtless and holding a wooden staff about his person, occasionally pausing to place one end of the wooden implement too the face of another imbiber.

This act would swiftly be followed by the semi naked reveller swinging the wooden staff back to his own face and bellowing in to is non-existent portal. This act was often accompanied by a flaxen haired roustabout charging about the room pinching the nipples of all and sundry male brethren.

Intrigued by this craven behaviour, the Gods immediately decided to punish the heathen acts witnessed below, and sent down one of their own sons, Titan, so as to infiltrate the barbarous Mitorians, and set about their ultimate annihilation and destruction.

"Titan" was soon integrated within the assembled throng and after adopting the name "Jack", had easily passed himself of as a son of "Kilburn", a notorious land to the south east of Wembley inhabited by barbarous heathen semi illiterate Irish and Grecian Cypriot drunks, thugs, tinkers and car dealers.

As his name would suggest, Titan (Jack) was of huge proportions and was endowed with a great appetite for alcoholic beverages, tandooris, olives and kebabs. Although quick of wit, he was immensely strong and took umbrage at any comment or action that offended him. 

To be continued...

STRANGERS ON THE SHANT

STRANGERS ON THE SHANT

Bruno Sable-Brown took his seat on the train, and hurriedly searched his trouser pockets for his cigarette lighter. He was exhausted from his shift at the Burlington slaughterhouse, but was looking forward to a few beers in his local bar, the Cock and Tickle.

However, his attention was soon taken by Guy Peter Peterson who had boarded the train at the previous station. He was a familiar face to Bruno, due to a recent article in the local sports paper where he was interviewed about his blossoming lacrosse career.

Guy had majored in Lacrosse, at State College University in Ulan Bator, Mongolia. He was currently enjoying a quite life, living at his father in-laws mansion, Grande Maison Lodge, and translating a rare Iroquois copy of creation myths, associated with the game of Lacrosse.

He had recently filed to divorce his wife Alice, as the marriage to his childhood sweetheart had gone sour, due to his penchant for model cars, liquorice pipes and snuff.
He was sure that the financial settlement would bleed him dry, but he was desperate to relinquish his relationship with Alice.

Guy would often lay awake thinking "who the feck is Alice ?" over and over in his mind.

However, he had reconciled himself to a life of solitude, tissues and bankruptcy, due to his ongoing love of the hedonistic lifestyle that Lacrosse would continue to give him.

As he adjusted his crutch and pulled his gundies from his crack, he noticed that a man seated opposite him was fanatically smiling at him.

Feeling slightly nervous , he leaned forward and held his hand out to the "stranger" to shake his hand.

Bruno shook Guys hand and greeted him with an even bigger smile.  

"Hello Guy" he whispered,

 "I have a great love for your appreciation of Lacrosse and in particular your decision to divorce that pig of a wife of yours !"  "I have a proposition for you that I believe will be mutually agreeable to us both".

Without waiting for a response, he pulled a bottle of malt whiskey from his raincoat pocket and unscrewed the lid.

 "Take a glug Guy, I know you want to !" "Lets finish the bottle and move on to the Carlton Hopbine Tavern in Rochester NY. There is plenty I wish to discuss with you Guy, and I'm sure you will want to listen!".

Guy took the bottle from Guys sweating fist and chugged a triple measure before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and slowly but clearly stating,.....

"Boojar, lets get this done you whores !" as he simultaneously removed his upper garments and hat, and thrust his clenched fist in to the air.

To be continued.......