I threw open my front door with a grumpy snap. Beyond which my good friend, Dobbers stood.
Good afternoon, Boomy. What brings you to answer your own door then?
I threwDobbers the piss-eye before breaking out in a welcoming grin.
That bloody maid of mine, Liselle. She's had to take some time off to visit her sick mother.
I said, curling an eyebrow up at the end like an Orangutan's urethra.
Is that what the kids are calling it these days? More likely she will be getting humphed up the dark snarler by a succession of peons, eh!
Dobbers laughed brightly.
I couldn't help but join in with the laughter. Dobbers was a fine and funny fellow despite having a face like spermy rice pudding.
Anyway, aren't you inviting me in? I have a devil of a thirst for some of that Brandy of yours!
Of course, old fellow. Your Brandy awaits!
I stepped back and gestured into the hallway with a flourish.
Dobbers doffed his cap and then cast a look over his shoulder like a Victorian Madame being painted by a moustachioed vagabond of an artist.
Shame about those bloody pigeons eh? Your car is a right mess.
I placed a hand on Dobbers chest stopping him in his tracks.
What the bloody fuck now? My car!?
I stepped out and Dobbers followed, worbling some inane pish about the birds in these parts.
We stood beside my old car, Bessie which was festooned with bird shit.
What in the name of fuckity-baws has been going on here?
I breathed in disbelief.
Bessie's gleaming black exterior was now mottled and streaked with white. Like a Goth in a Chinese prison.
I do believe that might be your problem.
Said Dobbers pointing over to our left with a visible grimace of distaste as if he had been served Cointreau in a tall glass.
I looked to where he pointed. It was the neighbours house. An unassuming affair. However, as I followed the trail of Dobbers finger, I noticed a newer structure perched on a flat part of the roof.
What the fuck is that, a bin shed? On his roof?
As I spoke there was a rustling, fluttering sound accompanied by a gentle coo'ing. Suddenly a pigeon exited from a window of the bin shed and flew off into the sky.
Pigeon fancier, I suspect.
Said Dobbers with more than a hint of a giggle.
A pigeon fancier!?! What in the devil's giblets is that? Someone who fucks pigeons?
Dobbers snorted with mirth.
Not that kind of fancier, I mean as in a man who keeps pigeons. That's what they call it. A pigeon fancier.
I looked at him with eyes as thin as the sole on a peons slipper.
A man who fucks pigeons. The lowest of the low. Come Dobbers, let us confront this pigeon fucker.
I marched off towards my neighbour's, my cane swishing furiously to and fro in front of me as if I were beating a dog for having a surly face.
Alright, alright. I'm coming. Keep your hair on!?
The impatient shout came from inside the neighbour's house in response to my urgent banging on his front door.
The sound of chains and bolts being shot back echoed loudly before the door screaked open to reveal an elderly man.
What the hell is this? It's the afternoon, I was trying to sleep!?
Bellowed the man. He looked quite cross.
I thought for a moment, then swiped my cane up and clipped him under the nose with it.
Owww! What in the blazes!?
I ignored him and pushed past into the hallway and then on into what seemed to be a sitting room. Dobbers followed, apologising half-heartedly to the Pigeon Fucker.
I took my pipe out and filled it with my new baccy. Nonna's Whirtle, a pungent and moist tobacco with pleasing hints of cinnamon and bergamot among a backdrop of mermaid's spume.
The Pigeon Fucker came striding into the room holding his nose, attempting to staunch the flow of blood.
You can't smoke!? Not here, it's bad for the girls!?
He roared, making sure to stay well out of range of my cane.
The girls? See, Dobbers. I told you he fucks them.
I said with a disgusted shake of my head.
At this the Pigeon Fucker stood upright.
You said I what!? That I fucked my pigeons!? You absolute MONSTER! Who could dream up such an idea? You're sick!
I stamped my boot on the floor.
I am sick? Have you seen my car? Now that is sick. What kind of man locks up innocent little birds in a box and fucks them with his great big nobbly penis only letting them out to shit on another man's car?
I pointed my cane at the Pigeon Fucker. It's tip wobbling with the force of my rage.
You sir, you are the MONSTER here. You have given me no choice. No choice at all. However I am a gentleman. I will give you two choices.
I paused to pull in a breath.
You will bring your pigeons down here and fuck them so that I might witness such appalling monstrousness with my own eyes or... I will go up there and wring all of their necks and when I am done I will beat you to death with their bodies.
Their was a silence.
Even Dobbers looked taken aback.
The Pigeon Fucker reeled as though I had fed him some sunflower seed and got my own todger out.
You... You can't be serious!? You can't kill my girls!? For what, a bit of bird shit? For the love of God, let me clean it up. I'm sorry ok?! Surely we can end this without such deplorable threats!? Like... Gentlemen...?
I took a long sniff in through my nostrils before speaking in a tone laden with ice.
I gave you your options. Now you must choose. Fuck them or they die. And you die too. Now choose.
The Pigeon Fucker let out a great racking sob.
I can't fuck them, not my pigeons. It would kill them?
Dobbers stepped forward, reaching out a hand and placing it gently on his shoulder.
I'm afraid, dear chap, it's that or he will kill them and you too?
He said sympathetically.
This can't be happening. This can't be happening!?
Pigeon Fucker looked at me despairingly.
I glared at him and clenched my jaw, my mind playing back the image of my poor Bessie, streaked in fetid white like the carpet in a porn film.
Dobbers nodded at the Pigeon Fucker.
He will kill you. I have seen him kill over far less. Save yourself at least.
He murmured in a low voice.
The Pigeon Fucker shook, his head bowed.
I can't, I could never hurt my beauties?
His voice cracked as he spoke.
I rolled my eyes.
Oh for fuck sake. Right, Dobbers. You will have to fuck them then.
I snapped.
What!? Me!?? I'm not fucking a Pigeon!?
Said a horrified Dobbers.
I let out a sigh of frustration and pointed at Pigeon Fucker with my cane.
Go. Bring them down, now. Someone is fucking these pigeons or there will be hell to pay. Go with him Dobbers, make sure he doesn't try any funny business.
I barked.
Dobbers agreed with an uncertain nod. Together they left the room, the Pigeon Fucker sobbing about his beautiful girls.
I reached into my coat and pulled out my hip flask for a tot of whiskey. I was halfway down the contents when I heard shouting, then a short scream from outside, ending with a thump like a bag of flour hitting the ground from a height.
I ran to the door and into the garden.
There, crumpled on the ground, quite dead, was Pigeon Fucker. I looked up and saw Dobbers standing on the flat roof above holding his head in his hands.
What the fuck happened?
I yelled.
He jumped! He said he couldn't bear any harm to come to his girls and that he was saving them. Then he jumped!
Dobbers shook like an old bulldog being masturbated with a stick.
Bugger. Well that's that, get your arse down here, Dobbers, old fellow. We have Brandy to drink.
I yelled.
Dobbers hesitated, he looked a little... uncomfortable?
Ok, I'm coming down... Um, Boomy... You wouldn't really have made one of us fuck a pigeon, would you?
I laughed.
Oh Dobbers. You should know...