“Here we go Rare, as you can see I live up to my side of the deal.” David roared like a lion as he threw his suitcase onto the bed and noticed the fine springs in there as his case bounced off the other side with a thud onto the thin carpeted floor.
Robin eyed the guy over his patched up glasses. “Did you mean to do that?”
The Welshman pulled a half-grin. “Of course I meant to do that.”
“It’s upside down and on the floor.”
“I know, that’s how I like my clothes to come out, it’s called reverse packing!” David proudly announced as he crammed his body between the wall, bed and suitcase. As he opened it up all the contents, in other words the valuable stuff like after shave, toothpaste, corn plasters, pile cream and other breakables and things that can be flattened... did!
Robin snorted at the guy. “Very incredible way that reverse packing suggestion. But I think I will leave it to the experts like you.” Robin went to walk away before sniffing something strange. “Is that you making that awful smell?”
“I have complete control of my bodily functions when in company thank you very much!”
Robin sniffed again. “No, not body odour or wind. A kind of chemical smell.”
Dave could smell it too. Then he realised as he physically lifted the suitcase away. “Oh, blinking hell! It’s the Chemical Metal. I’ve split the packet and it’s gone all over my underwear.”
Robin laughed. “Oh dearie me, that’s going to be attractive around the women, especially as the pants stick out in the most unfortunate position.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. Only the hardener being rubbed into the chemical metal can make it stay that shape, go hard on.”
Robin shuffled over and took a look. “That’s the yellow stuff right?”
“Right.”
“It’s mixed all right. Better get some of that for my glasses before you lose the lot.”
David couldn’t believe it as Robin delved into his underwear. “Hey, hey, hey! A Welshman's underwear is his own affair. Stop playing with my pants!”
The wrong thing to say as Margaret came in. “Oh I say! I’ll leave you to at it.”
Robin turned around. “No Margaret, I was only trying to help David get his underwear off...”
“Oh my perverted sex, where will it end!” She shouted after giving the two a look. After all she couldn’t see what they were doing from the confines of the bed and wall.
Robin watched the lady turn pale and leave in a hurry. “I was going to end the sentence with; off to the nearest washing machine.”
David glared at him before calling him a swear word. With that Robin went off and in a wave of protest he unpacked his own bag without the help of the rude room partner.
Rare found himself down in reception where Dirk was grinning like a goon at the receptionist. She didn’t like him, especially as his open shirt revealed a hairy chest that would give a gorilla a run for it’s money.
“So my good looking babe, how long have you been in this job?”
“Two hours.”
“That long eh? Must be quite experienced by now.”
She frowned at him. “I’ve had no training and my supervisor is on a two hour tea break.”
“Still, babe, you’ve got me to help you along, oh and my rather distant friend here; Rob the big gob here to help you.”
“She looks quite flushed, what have you done to the poor girl?”
“Nothing, she is just a little hot under the collar, because of my animal magnetism.”
Robin understood. “That was the time when that dog got friendly on your leg.”
“Hey!” Dirk pointed a finger at the guy. “How was I to know that Gypsy sold me aniseed potion. I thought it was for curing smelly feet, not attracting dogs.”
Robin pulled a face trying to patch together why he was going to buy aniseed off a Gypsy.
Dirk saw him and moved closer. “Well, replace Gypsy with dog napper and trying to take a rather rare breed from a kennel and you’ll have the truth. Ah young inexperienced fools. Got me a criminal record. Still, good move, chicks love that thing.”
“I’m into chicks big time!” Robin announced to all, well him and the receptionist and Dirk.
Dirk in turn gave the young girl an eye up and down before coming out with. “So am I! The bigger the breast the better for me.”
“I keep my ladies home, all six of them.”
Dirk grinned. “Robbie my man, you are a hidden babe magnet to be able to allow six chicks to live in your apartment with out fighting.”
“Oh my chicks do fight. But my biggest problem is keeping on the side of the sanitary laws, otherwise they are very cheap to keep.”
Dirk drew away and so did the receptionist as she had a good excuse her phone was going off.
“We are talking about women right?”
“No, my chickens! I keep them, get lovely eggs off of them.”
“Pervert!” Dirk shouted as he was at a loss for words.
“Can one of you help me out and get the other phone.” The girl asked as suddenly her area got busy.
“Sure doll.” Dirk gave Robin a look who gave him one back. “Go on then, pick it up.”
“But I thought you said you were going to help her?”
“I am, with you answering the phone. I don’t know where everything is around here do I?”
Robin frowned and was going to say either does he, but he chose to pick up the phone which let out a high pitched person. He pulled the phone away from his ear. “Ouch!”
“What is it?”
“Dirk, I have a shrieking woman on the phone, talking rubbish.”
Dirk shrugged his shoulders, noting the bird had finished her conversation. “Hey doll face. Rob’s got a irate old crab on the phone, what can he do?”
Robin looked frightened as the woman kept shouting obscenities, well that’s what they sounded like. “She shuts up every so often, then starts up again when I go to speak.”
The receptionist took the phone and listened in. “It’s a fax, just press receive and put the handset back down.”
Dirk laughed, “Ha! Robin you are as dumb as dumb is.”
“How come you never raised a finger to help your friend out sir?”
Dirk gave the chick a frown. “Because I am the technical supervisor. I only help people out when they ask.” He stared hard at the girl before giving her one of his patented pulling grins. “As technical supervisor, it’s my job to show you the technicalities of the bedroom when you knock off.”
The girl fixed him a smile before replying, “I’d rather get technical with a crossword puzzle than go anywhere near an organ grinder and his pet monkey.”
The girl looked at Rare when she said monkey. He looked behind him until he realised that she meant him. “Well, of all the nerve. I’m off to the bar area.”
As he left he heard the girl get another call about a strange mysterious chemical smell coming from the second floor. Of course we all know who’s responsible for that one don’t we.
Robin headed into the bar area of the lounge as it likes to be called. He saw Margaret who kind of turned away. He got himself a drink and saw Dirk had been distracted by talking to the female bar person.
“Hello Margaret, got a nice view from your room?”
She almost jumped and moved her seat back a little. “Nice, as in I can see the sea, yes.”
“Chemical metal.”
“What?”
“I was helping David get some chemical metal off of his underwear. His case fell from his bed and landed upside down. Upon opening it, he found the chemical metal was hardening his underwear.”
“Oh!” She laughed, “So you are not and either is he?”
Robin stuck his chest out, giving her an indignant look he said; “I most certainly am not!”
“That’s okay, I hate people who are obsessed with sex.”
“Hey Rob me man, I think I’ve pulled! Not going to sleep alone on my own tonight buddy.”
Margaret sneered at the goof ball. “You see what I mean.”
“I’ve just discovered this place has cable, loads of great movies on later. Spoilt for choice.”
“Oh.” Was all she could say reminding herself to keep her comments on very low priority for the rest of the evening.
“So Marg.” Dirk said Marg in a low sexy way, the way he liked to talk to birds. “How’s the van? I noticed you were tinkering with it earlier.”
“Oh, it developed a little cough and splutter...”
“My father’s car had that once.”
Both looked at Rare as he had a habit of coming into conversations in his slow monotone way; taking over with a weird twist to his tale.
“And what did you do?” She asked before taking a sip of her vodka and tonic, which was more tonic here than anything else.
“When I was a boy...”
“That was a long time ago, before the second world war wasn’t it?”
Robin again gave Dirk a frown as he added. “Cheek! Anyway my father’s car developed the same symptoms, coughing and spluttering as it went along. My father said it needed a tune.”
“Did your father sort the problem?”
“Well Margaret, I sorted the problem, not my father. I got up one morning, got the tools out and opened up the engine. There I gave it a whole packet of Tunes, mnthol flavour I think they were, not your usual red ones, more of an orange.”
Dirk gave Margaret a look of disbelief before feeling he had to ask. “Did that solve the car trouble?”
“Oh yes!”
“I’ll think I will give that a go, if it works...”
“We got a new car the following week, the old one just died on us, went to scrap heap heaven dad said. Something about seizing up the pistons, much like a heart attack on a man after eating too much fatty foods.” He observed them both giving him a look of disapproval. “Well, that’s what father said to me.”
Marie entered at this point looking flustered.
“Yo babe, how’s it hanging?” Dirk asked as he gave her a wide grin.
“If you are being rude, I may as well be rude or crude back. I have a very small perky cleavage and they don’t hang but point upwards.”
Margaret went a little flustered. “My dear, I don’t think that kind of rudeness or detailed information should be issued from around this table.”
Dirk didn’t agree. “Go on my dear I’m all ears.”
“All ears eh?” Margaret took note of this and gave him a cuff around one.
“Ouch! What the hell was that for?”
“Just go and get Marie a drink and be a gentleman for once.”
Dirk stood up rubbing his ear. “All right I will, what do you want?”
“A large gin and tonic please.” She replied before noticing him staring. “What? I said please.”
“No, I need some money off of you.”
“Just go and get Marie a drink!” Margaret shouted at the thick man.
“No, you said go and get, not pay for it as well. Hey! I’m on the same crap basic wages as everyone else on this table. I can’t go giving my money away, especially as it costs me between six and seven quid a pop to watch those dodgy movies on cable after nine.”
“I’ll get this round in and make Marie’s a double.” Robin intervened to calm the issue of wages down.
“Good going my man.” Dirk said as he whispered in Rob’s ear. “Trying to get her drunk, good idea, both might score tonight.”
“What are we all going down to the arcade to play table football?”
Dirk raised his eyes heavenwards before walking off to chat to the bar chick.
“Why are you so upset?” Margaret asked putting her best sincere voice into play.
“Oh, I’ve locked my key inside my room and room service cannot find a spare.”
“Oh the fabled trials of loosing keys. Always a problem when you are down to one key. I...”
“Yeah, I got stuck in a ford once.”
Margaret cast a shadow of a frown once more as the weird looking guy interjected once again.
“I bet you got wet. Did you lose your key in the water?” Marie asked suddenly fascinated.
“No, I lost the key in the boot of our Ford. Went looking for it and the boot closed. I was stuck in there for three weeks until dad got a new key cut.”
“You were stuck in a car boot for three weeks?”
“Yes! had to use the space where the spare tyre was kept as a urinal and toilet.”
“How come it took three weeks?”
“My father and mother suffered terrible short term memory loss. I was only remembered when my brother came home and wanted to use the car.”
“That’s terrible!” Marie slid over into Dirk’s former seat and gave Robin a hug.
“What’s all the guy huggin about?” Dirk asked as he produced a tray full of drinks.
“Poor Robin here has just told us a sad story about himself.”
Dirk’s eyes widened. “So you telling me, you giving him, old musty balls here a cuddle and sympathy because he told you a true soppy story?”
“Yes.”
“That’s great!”
“What is?” Margaret asked looking puzzled.
“I might score with more women if I go up to my room and think up some sad true to life sounding stories. I’d be a hit!”
“You? All you’d come out with is single sentences of rubbish!” Marie added, insulting the brainless wonder before her.
“Nah! Barbara Cartland chick had being doing that for years before she did us a favour and died on us. I’m into writing classic piles of crap.”
Then the guy took his drink and shot off to his room to create a master piece of insanity. If only he had stayed around to listen to Robin.
“So, what are they doing about your room?”
Marie still with one arm around Rare leaned over and took her drink. “They are trying to find a locksmith to cut us a new key. Apparently he can size up the lock by taking the barrel out and cut a new one with a handy dinky cutting machine.”
“I used to cut keys, one of my jobs when I was a lad, well in my thirties.”
“Did you, must have been a skilled handy person to have around.”
“I wish I was Marie, I could have helped you out of your predicament now.” He got an extra hug from her. “Trouble was, I was never any good at cutting keys. I was always getting my fingers cut by the cutting tool. Still, look on the brighter side, I can always open my front door using my index finger.”
Upon raising his index finger to show how it looks just like a cylinder key, both ladies jumped sky-high. The man was a walking horror show and it was time to excuse themselves.
Robin found himself walking by Dirk’s room and knocked on the door. It opened with a flash and the guy was dressed in just a pair of what looked to be silver underpants.
“Oh it’s you Rare.”
Robin kept eye contact. “Who else were you expecting?”
“Oh, I eyed up a real cracker of a bird, she’s doing night time room service. I thought dressed like this I might dazzle the girl into having me as her company through the graveyard hours. I’m a haunting and lasting memory of what a man should be.”
“You look like a male stripper in a gay bar.”
Dirk grinned. “Thanks buddy, that’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me....” Then it sank in. “Hey! What are you doing here anyway?”
“My room stinks of Chemical metal, Radion B and David, I can’t sleep, so I thought I’d see how you are getting on with your tales of woe.”
“I’m not writing a Chinese work of fiction, just sad tales.”
“I know, I meant... Never mind, have you done any?”
Dirk let the guy in. “Okay stay a short while, until that chick comes up.” He walked over and tossed Rare his pad.
Robin took it and read the only lines upon it.
“What do you think? Good ain’t it?”
“I served for Queen and country during the dessert conflicts, where I was blown up by a mine and after that I was put back together again before being killed in action flying a Tornado fighter down Soddam’s Hassin’s secret base on Tracy Island.”
“It’s a bit far fetched.”
“What do you mean.”
“Well I hate to state the obvious here but...”
“But?”
“Tracy Island is a fictitious island where puppets roam around calling themselves Thunderbirds.”
“I can change that. What else, it’s all good ain’t it?” He looked at Rare, who was obviously having a hard time with being honest here. “Go on!”
“Well, dying isn’t good, because that will mean you are a ghost.”
“Yeah, well I told you earlier I have hauntingly good looks.” He understood really. “Ah well, it was a good idea. I think I’ll shall nip on down to the newsagents and see if they have any Barbara Cartland books. Should be able to nick a few ideas off of her, especially as she’s dead and can’t prosecute me.”
Robin took his eyes off the silver dazzling pants, which looked like one of those mirrored disco balls. He noticed something. “Got a DVD player in your room, that’s unique.”
“It’s mine. Top of the line beauty. I got it along with fifty free DVD’s if I purchased it this evening. I figured best to get that bundle than pay six to eight pound a pop on the old cable. The suckers didn’t blank up the scart lead, so now I can watch free movies like this one.” He picked one up. “Howard the Duck!” Then he realised what he’d picked up. “Oh, I mean bogus, Howard the lack lustre Duck.”
“I’ve got a DVD, one of those cheap ones from my local electrical store.”
Dirk went into defensive position. “Oh no, no, no! This cost me a packet to buy. This DVD is not your run of the mill cheap’o!”
“I don’t quite understand, apart from yours has more features than my one, oh and more poor quality films.”
“No you don’t get it. A Labourer in the third world builds your DVD player and receives for his hard work fifty pence a week, working fourteen hours a day in a sweat shop for building your cheap player. My one being a top quality product will pay a labourer in a sweatshop seventy five pence! And that makes him and I feel a lot better!”
“No, I don’t get it.”
“Simple mathematics.”
“No, I always thought a sweat shop was where you purchased sweaters in the winter.”
“Wake up a taste the coffee Rare. It is where third world people get abused so the first world can get loads of clothing, electrical and other things like food really cheap.”
“Oh.” Robin frowned. “If this is the case, then I’m not going to go near any products that do that. I shall do some research.”
Dirk smiled as he took a look out of the door and caught sight of the lift opening. “Great! Go and do that now, I noticed a twenty four hour Internet cafe down the road.”
Robin was pushed out of the door and as he walked away a little he passed a young lady taking some food obviously along to Dirks’ room. He stood around listening out for her reaction.
“Hello doll face, fancy a star spangling night of fun.” He heard Dirk say before the girl screamed and ran back for the lift in floods of tears. Apparently Dirk then had an un-welcoming visit from the hotel manager, they confiscated his DVD and threatened police action on his constant harassment of female staff.
