Screeeecehhhhchhhh.
I looked up in some alarm at the screeching sound of brakes outside my house.
What the fuck was this? Was it those bloody Sumerians again? I had already told them I would have no truck with their ancient gods.
Damn, they were worse than the bloody Mormons.
I hauled my big fat arse out of my chair and wombled up to the window to see who dared poke the Dawg in his den.
It was a white van. That was a relief. If it had been grey or black it might have been rapers or worse yet Mancunians.
I wondered who it was though. They were parked right up on the kerb outside my house and call me an old territorial bastard with one big left ball but I did consider that bit of turf to be mine.
Aha. I knew what to do.
I would open my front door and shake my fist angrily at the vanderdrivers whoever they were. That would show them who's boss.
I heaved my fat donkey of a frame toward the front door and yanked it open, twirling my fingers in preparation for the fisting.
There ee is, what the fook, man. You've put on about ten stone?!
Bellowed a voice in a bear'ish roar.
My mouth dropped.
For there, little more than 20 feet away stood the Bear-Man. His magnificent beard as bushy as ever, his arms like oak trunks and his belly bulging over his belt like chronic haemorrhoids.
Ha!! Look who's talking you fat fuck!
I yelled joyously.
The Bear-Man grinned hugely, as he were a lion and I a lady gazelle wearing a dress made out of bacon.
A fat fuck! I'll just take these fookin beers away with me then, aye!
He yanked the side of the van open and hoofed a cardboard box up onto his knee. He flicked the top flap open with a fantabulously meaty thumb.
The sun glinted from the tops of the exotic beers within from Bear-Man Land.
My vision darkened and my heart beat hard in my chest as if I were back in the eighties and Sandra was tearing my frenulum all over again.
Damn her and her trollishly strong hands.
Ach, away and raffle yer doughnut ya wee shite!
I yelled gleefully.
I couldn't explain it but I was very happy to see the Bear-Man and his mighty beers.
Aye, I'll raffle your doughnut ya prick!
He laughed and stuck the box down at my gate.
Right, I will be off then. Catch ya next week?
He grinned, we both knew the answer to that one.
With a wink, the Bear-Man clumsily clambered into the van and it roared off down the road.
I grabbed the box and headed into the house. One of the beers, a tangerine something or other peeked out invitingly from the top.
You're getting had first.
I whispered to it softly.
Lockdown might be shit but it looked like it had gotten a whole lot better.