Onkel Toby

I remained prostrate and covered in chocolate pudding.

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Copyright © 2016, Michael M Wayman

The family is huge, my family that is. I have so many nephews and nieces – I lost count years ago. There are family events every year all over Europe – weddings, big birthdays, anniversaries, funerals and so on.

“Onkel Toby!” She spoke in her language, which I hardly understand. Who was she? No idea. She told me on the phone that she would arrive later in the day, it was a long way to drive. She told me how we had chatted at some family party last year – especially about a certain freedom. And because of that certain freedom she wanted to stay with me for a week. “Onkel Toby!” she said again and “Till later!” and put the phone down.

So who the hell was she? She sounded young. What was the certain freedom? I didn't know. Maybe she would be fun.

There she was, at the front door. Very pretty she was not. But not ugly either. She was certainly very sexy, perhaps mid twenty. She walked straight into me, hugged me hard and kissed me. “Onkel Toby!” I did not recognise her – who was she?

I poured two Merlots and orange juice and we toasted the freedom. I tried some indirect questions in the hope that I would discover what the certain freedom was. Another Merlot and orange.

I like to think that I'm a very tolerant person who is ready for anything that is not violent and does not include rope and handcuffs. However I do not discuss such things with other people – just not a good idea. I certainly do not remember discussing such things with her or discussing such things with anybody. Who was she? And what exactly did she want to do with me? For a whole week?

I felt a bit weak – too many Merlots and orange. Let's carry your case up to your room. She had two suitcases – one was very heavy and the other was heavier. I struggled.

Nice room at the top of the house – light and airy with a view over the hills. She liked it – she stared out of the window – she turned – she moved towards me – she tripped over the bed. I tried to catch her – not a good idea when schlepping two heavy cases – the corner of the rug slipped under me and I fell too.

When I woke it was dark. Where was I? Or better still: on whom was I? It was warm, smelt nice and was slowly going up and down. Try to think.

Doctor Watson, I do believe that my head is currently in the cleavage of a certain young lady and that the certain young lady is still alive and probably sleeping and that I have had too much to drink.

When I woke it was light. I went downstairs and made breakfast. Great smell of freshly-brewed coffee. She came down the stairs – she did look very attractive. Omelettes and Prosecco.

I suggested going for a walk across the fields. “Onkel Toby!” she said, what a good idea. She told me what she was going to do with me that evening – she told me that she had a great hunger.

To be honest, I did not understand most of what she said, but what I did understand sounded very interesting. However I refuse to write about it here. I would soon discover what she had a great hunger for; or rather, for whom.

“Onkel Toby!” she said, she had something very special to show me – in her bedroom. She opened one of her suitcases, I leaned forwards for a better view and the corner of the rug slipped under me and I fell again.

When I woke it was light. I was lying on my back – the remains of a chocolate pudding was spread over my chest – maybe it was not a chocolate pudding – I did not taste it. I felt happy – I definitely remember feeling happy. I remained prostrate and covered in chocolate pudding and feeling good.

Drink! Drink! Drink!
To lips that are red and sweet as the fruit on the tree!

The wardrobe door opened and she suddenly appeared. She was wearing something indescribable, some sort of uniform made of metal and plastic. She grabbed her mobile phone and shouted at it. It shouted back. It could have been her mother. A lot of shouting.

No, no, she should not have been there, certainly not with that evil uncle Toby. No, she must return home immediately, no question.

She was very apologetic, but she had to go, no question. Such a great pity, it had been so much fun, especially my trick with the chocolate pudding, but she had to go.

She promised to visit me again, as soon as possible. “Onkel Toby!” she said once more and kissed me and drove away.

I hoped that she would return – whoever she was. I had to get rid of that rug and who was Onkel Toby?

Have you read bookends and chocky pud and snuggles?