4. Marmaduke Dreams

Previously: Terry prepares to confide in Mel. However, e is shocked at how much she already seems to know. Mel tells Terry that Kelly is thinking of calling her baby Marmaduke.

Now I’m not the sort of person who is prone to homosexual fantasies, quite the opposite really. Generally speaking I tend not to take my mind off tits for long enough to concentrate on anything else. Sometimes when I am at work my boss will take me aside and give me a lecture or he will try to draw me into his corporate vision. Well, when he does, like I said, all I think about is tits. I remember a time when I got caught smoking at school. The headmistress dragged me into her office and screamed at me until her face became all red a swollen. Nevertheless, as she ranted and pointed at me angrily, bending her cane in a threatening manner, her tits bounced rather erotically. Later while she was caning me, I pondered the fact that those same tits would be swinging wildly with all the effort that she was putting in. I hardly felt a thing. I even considered lighting up another cigarette there and then. It was certainly good for me.
So anyway, as you might imagine, I was a little perturbed by some dreams that I started having a few years ago. In them I cruised the streets and local nightclubs, looking for men.
Within those dreams there was no way of knowing what I looked like but somehow I knew that I was young and handsome, nothing new there then. I was nervous, scared even. It wasn’t the threat posed by other, more streetwise bummers. It was more like the fear of feeling that my mum was watching.
Anyway, if it wasn’t strange enough in itself, it used to be made even weirder by the fact that even though I was dreaming, the voice was there alongside me. It would scream angrily as if it were being personally insulted.
‘Thar don’t hide t‘sausage up theer, thar fooking idiot!’ it would yell, amusingly.
However, apart from the fact that the voice was like an irritated commentator, it was like most dreams. I would watch on as if a cinemagoer, minus the popcorn.
Back then I had a moment of clarity. For some reason I was totally sober. During this unusual phase in my life I confided some of my fears to my wife, Mel. Of course, had I known that my dreams were more than they appeared, I might have chosen to keep my secrets safe. However, like I said at the time I wasn’t thinking straight.
‘I had the strangest dream last night,’ I told her early one morning as she returned to the bedroom after a shower.
She wore a turban the size of India on her head and beads of moisture dripped from her chin, slaloming down her bare chest.
‘Oh yes,’ she replied, as if she had actually been listening.
‘I sucked your mother’s cock,’ I told her.
‘Sure,’ she replied, nodding. ‘What?’ she shrieked.
‘I said that I had a strange dream last night.’
I described my dream briefly to her. After which she looked strangely content. It was puzzling. I assumed that as she knew me so well, Mel would be the person most likely to sympathise. However, I was clearly mistaken. She was enjoying my embarrassment.
‘Well,’ she said, as she took a deep breath that suggested that a monologue was following. ‘I have always wondered why you were such a sex maniac.‘
I didn’t see the link between my strictly heterosexual excesses and a gay dream. I supposed at the time that it was one of those feminine intuition things like me forgetting to buy toilet paper meaning that I no longer love her.
‘What are you on?’ I asked her, holding back an incredulous snigger. ‘So I get around a bit because I am a bender?’ I asked her, as if to underline the stupidity of her argument.
‘Oh,’ she replied as she slapped me across the face. ‘So you do get around a bit,’ she stated, catching me a little by surprise.
See, that’s the problem with Women. You can never tell when they are leading you into an ambush. The lateral relationship between their arguments leads one into a false sense of security. Then before one knows it one has paddled one’s self well and truly up shit creek.
Nevertheless, I have a few tricks up my sleeve too.
‘Well, if you don’t want to know then that’s also fine,’ I told her in a, I was going to tell you a secret but now I’m not, kind of way. I jumped off the bed and headed for the bathroom. I figured that a piss would take time enough to allow her curiosity to overcome her anger. I was right. When I returned to the bedroom she apologised, hugging me to her breast. It was another trick but this time I was wise to it. She would feed me boob in order to soften my resolve. However, even though I knew that I was being manipulated, I played along, after all boob is boob.
‘Tel?’ Pakki’s voice shouted across the pub, breaking my daze, which was a shame because I was just getting to the good bit in my thoughts. ‘Show us your cock!’ he shouted. The atmosphere took a turn for the worst. The place had been heaving, though all of a sudden a wave of controversy invaded.
I stood on my stool, surveyed the array of expressions that focussed themselves on me and smiled inwardly at my moment of controversy. After a dramatic pause amid a round of wolf whistles and jeers, which I suspect were a product of both drunken party spirit and sheer horror, I prepared to show everyone my cock. I flapped my elbows behind me, clucked a few times then let rip.
‘Cock-a-doodle-doo!’
Of course the locals, my mates, knew exactly what was coming but what amused Pakki and I hugely was the effect it had on everybody else. Ok, so it’s childish. I never ever claimed to be anything though else did I?
Mel, shot me a glare. I had to think for a moment but before too long I remembered that I had been worrying all week because I had needed to talk to Mel. I needed to tell her about the voice and I needed to tell her about Marmaduke as well. I had been so concerned about her reaction that I had had a few beers to calm my nerves. However, her response had not been what I expected. She had not been shocked, stunned or bemused. There was no sign of a disbelieving smirk. She didn’t appear the slightest bit phased. Her response had been to shock me by casually admitting that she knew about both the voice and Marmaduke. However, between the lines it became fairly clear that she knew names but was hoping that I would supply her with details.
‘So is our Kelly really thinking of calling her baby Marmaduke?’ I asked.
‘Don’t change the subject, Terry Malone,’ snapped Mel. ‘I want details,’ she added.
I placed my hands face up toward her as if to plead my innocence.
‘Ok,’ I replied. ‘But I can only tell you what I understand myself. There are still some holes in the story.’
A glint appeared in Mel’s eye. Curiosity had overtaken her and I could see the excitement in her face. A mystery was about to reveal its secrets. Those few seconds right there probably made her day.
Nevertheless, I didn’t feel that she would ever be satisfied by what I had to tell her. She was more likely to get frustrated by what I don’t know than contented by what I do. Either way I wasn’t even going to try and tell her anything in the pub.
‘Can we go somewhere else and talk?’ I asked.
‘Sure,’ she replied. I think she was as eager for us to be alone as I was. No doubt we had diverse motives. I needed her support but there was a big part of me that just wanted some time alone with her. Mel on the other hand, just wanted an explanation. She wanted a peep into my secrets. I figured that I owed her at least one look. She had suffered me for years. Of course she had also suffered the voice in the bundle.
‘Your place or mine?’
‘Mine,’ Mel replied adamantly. ‘I am not going anywhere near your little den of iniquity.’
I have to say that I wasn’t entirely happy about going to Mel’s. It was, after all our home once. That fact was what haunted me. I can be an arsehole. I know that. I didn’t deserve Mel. She was and is too good for me. Nevertheless, that doesn’t change the fact that I was heartbroken when she left me. There was a part of me that hoped that once she knew how difficult things had been for me, she might give me another chance. Realistically, it was a slim possibility, so I wouldn’t bet my dick on it but the truth of the matter was that I would have gladly had it amputated if I could have had my wife back.
‘Can I just make one thing clear, Terry?’ Mel asked.
‘Sure.’
‘You are not, and I stress, not, getting any!’
I shot her an offended look as if the idea hadn’t even crossed my mind. It was obvious that I was a pretty good actor. I had the impression that Mel was about to apologise.
‘Not even a nibble of your minge?’ I joked, valiantly saving her from embarrassment.
It was only a joke. There really wasn’t any reason to slap me. Nevertheless, she did. Worse still, I spilt my pint in the process, which was uncalled for.
Mel stood up as if to leave. She lifted her bag from beneath her chair and put it over her shoulder.
‘You coming then?’ she asked, impatiently.
‘Yup,’ I replied. I quickly necked the rest of my drink, spilling most of it down my shirt in the process. As I stood up, I caught Colin Phillpots’ eye. He looked gutted. I gave him a wink, just so that he was sure to get the wrong impression. Goodness only knows how he thinks that he is in with a chance with Mel is beyond me. However, the truth was that after all that I had put her through over the years, Colin probably had more chance than I did. That is how sad my life was. I was further down the queue than a puny little twat was.
Nevertheless, slim as my chances were, they soon became even slimmer. As we were leaving, I bumped into a bird I know called, Melody. Well, that isn’t her real name. Her real name was, Joy but as she was a miserable cow, nobody who knew her could bring themselves to actually call her that. She moaned constantly in a whining, almost musical way, which I supposed was where her nickname came from.
‘Tel?’ she called.
Shit. I tried to pretend that I hadn’t heard her calling but alas. Mel stopped walking and turned back to face the crowded room. Melody glanced at Mel as she approached and I could just tell that she was about to cause some trouble.
‘I need to pop around to your flat, Tel,’ she said.
‘Here we go,’ I thought.
‘Really, why?’ I asked.
‘I left my knickers there,’ she replied, with enough of a smirk to let me know that she was deliberately being a bitch, yet not enough for Mel to guess that it was a wind up.
‘I see,’ I replied, matter-of-factly. ‘I thought the place was a bit funky.’
I turned to leave as soon as was possible The last thing that I wanted was to give Melody a chance to start moaning because then there would be no end to it.
There was a second or two when I thought that Mel was going to change her mind. She remained motionless and glared at me. I could almost read her mind. She had loved me and she had committed her life to me. I, on the other hand had been a complete wanker. I got pissed and I shagged other women. The fact was that she had wasted her life on me. I knew it and so did she.
As we arrived in the carpark, Mel was still glowering.
‘I never shagged Melody,’ I told her.
‘Yeah, right,’ Mel replied, disbelievingly. ‘I am supposed to believe you am I?’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Why would I lie?’
‘Maybe because it comes so naturally to you.’
Mel’s eyes were glistening. I could tell even in the dim light of the pub car park. I was hurting her again already.
‘You are the only one that I have loved, Mel,’ I told her, for the first time. ‘I couldn’t ever give a toss about anyone else.’
‘How could you have loved me Terry?’ she demanded. ‘You can’t love me and be continually unfaithful to me.’
‘Well, my heart was never unfaithful,’ I told her.
‘No, but your dick was!’ she shouted as the tears burst forth,
‘OK, whatever,’ I said, defensively. ‘But I never shagged that Melody. I couldn’t bare it. She would most likely complain all the way through.’
For some strange reason, Mel laughed.
‘So, what is so funny?’ I asked her.
‘Well, if you had slept with her you would know,’ she replied. ‘Come on,’ she said, directing me toward her car. I followed. When we reached it and I got into my seat, I just had to ask.
‘So why is she called Melody?’
‘I’m not telling,’ Mel replied with a smirk. ’You will have to shag her to find out.
It suddenly struck me. I had heard the stories but I had never really known who they were about.
‘Oh my god!’ I exclaimed. ‘Is she the Opera singer?’
Mel laughed, which I understood as a confirmation.
Strangely, the discussions of my infidelity somehow seemed to draw Mel closer to me. She had smiled at me for the first time for ages and as she drove us back o her house I could feel her eyes occasionally glancing at me.
‘You’ll have her knickers down tonight if you play your cards right.’
I bit my lip.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Mel. Her brow ridged worriedly as she pulled the car over into a lay-by and stared at me.
‘Don’t worry,’ I reassured her. ‘I’m OK.’
‘I’ve seen that look before,’ she told me. ‘I thought that the reason we were together tonight was to put an end to all the secrets.’
Of course she was right. I desperately needed her support. I had struggled with Eddie for most of my life and for a number of years I had been preoccupied with Marmaduke as well. The truth was that I wasn’t sure if Mel left me because of me or because of them. The problem was that Mel had to get past them to get closer to me. They were a force-field, keeping intimacy at bay, a wall for me to hide behind, an pathetic excuse for every failing that I ever had. Well, I imagined that that was what Mel was about to tell me. I felt sure of it. The truth was much simpler. I had thought I was going mad and I didn’t ever tell Mel about that fact. I wanted her to love me, not pity me.
‘So how the hell do you know about them anyway?’ I asked her.
‘Who?’ she asked. I was a little bit surprised that Mel had lost track of our conversation because it wasn’t the sort of thing that she tended toward. However, after a second or two to think, I realised that it had been my fault, just like everything else. I had changed the direction of our dialogue.
‘The Blues Brothers, the Mental Illness Twins.’
‘Oh them,’ she replied. ‘I see.’ She took a deep breath as if she were about to expel a lengthy monologue. Fortunately, she followed up with a sigh.
‘You talk to them in your sleep.’
‘I what?’
‘You talk to them when you are asleep,’ she replied. ‘Well, you talk to Marmaduke. You just tend to yell and swear at Eddie.’
I almost laughed, even though there wasn’t anything funny about the situation.
‘Yeah, well he deserves it, the bastard.’
Mel laughed briefly.
‘So who is Marmaduke?’ she asked.
‘Marmaduke is just a kid,’ I replied.
Mel’s forehead frowned in a way that only hers can. She was clearly frustrated but I knew that frown. I knew that it was concern for me that brought it on. That frown just reminded me all the more how much I missed her.
I howled. The tears burst from my eyes like a dam had burst. I thrust my head forward into my hands and bashed my forehead on the dashboard.
Mel wrapped her arms around me, which made things worse.
When I had regained a little composure, I answered her question.
‘Our Kelly’s son,’ I told her.
‘What?’ Mel’s face was a picture of horror, yet there was no sign of disbelief in her glistening eyes.
‘Marmaduke,’ I told her. ‘Marmaduke is our Kelly’s son.’
Mel climbed onto my seat and buried herself into my chest. Her tears told me all I needed to know. She still loved me.
‘Blow job!’ said the voice.
I was beyond speech, which was just as well.
‘Fuck off, Eddie!’

© Copyright 2005, Harry Parry. All rights reserved. No part of this nonsense may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.