Coronavirus Lockdown Day Seven – Molly names Man Pretty
It was
only by luck that I managed to drive off the screaming savages. Outnumbered
some eighteen to one I was at first fearful for my very life. However, my fearsome appearance, plus the fact that I brandished a loaded rifle, proved sufficient to ward them off and I had only to scream back at
them in my native tongue to startle even the boldest of them.
‘Awa ye go ye nasty wee radgies! Awa wi ye before I take this wee sharp blade and
cut ye a Glesga smile and maybe perchance a new bum! Am no kiddin an at’s a fact ya filthy bunch o’ heathens!! Plus, a've got a big gun and you've no got one between the whole lot of you!'
At this, the largest of the savages - a sheer giant of a man, raised his club as if to counter my threatening tone. So, I instantly shot him
through the throat and followed up with several facial thrusts of my dagger. He
grinned widely and dropped down dead at my feet with blood spewing furiously from his wounds.
It was a classic case of gaining domination by taking down the biggest guy in the group and it worked a treat. His companions at first halted in some shock before making for the canoes and heading speedily towards the horizon leaving only a large wicker basket behind on the shore.
Imagine my surprise when, on closer examination, the basket proved to contain a terrified black man crouched and completely naked and no doubt intended for the cooking pot. The poor wretch had been badly beaten but was fortunately largely intact, unlike his companion who I had encountered bloodied and legless on the beach earlier.
It was a classic case of gaining domination by taking down the biggest guy in the group and it worked a treat. His companions at first halted in some shock before making for the canoes and heading speedily towards the horizon leaving only a large wicker basket behind on the shore.
Imagine my surprise when, on closer examination, the basket proved to contain a terrified black man crouched and completely naked and no doubt intended for the cooking pot. The poor wretch had been badly beaten but was fortunately largely intact, unlike his companion who I had encountered bloodied and legless on the beach earlier.
My only
issue now, aside from the urgent need to coax this poor wretch back to full
health, is to find a suitable name for him. Perhaps I should defer to the
parrot regarding this subject.
Also, given my
shortage of spare apparel I may have to resort to the goatskin with which to
cover the unchristian-like nakedness of my new companion for whom Molly the parrot
has suggested a quite splendid name. We shall call him Man Pretty.
Duncan
Harley is a writer and blogger living in the Garioch. His books are available
from Amazon. Just search for Duncan Harley in the Amazon search box. Signed
copies are available @ Inverurie Whisky Shop.
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