Tuck Shop Takeover

Tuck Shop Takeover ©

By

Michael Casey

Doreen Hunt had won the Election, she was the new girl at the United School Tuck Shop. A private school for the well top do, ok, for those who had lied and cheated on their taxes and could afford the fees at such a fancy establishment. In fact the parents were all big people, the staff called them the “wobblearses” because they were so fat and their arses did wobble so much. Their kids were just as big, gastric bands were needed, battle of the bands would be nothing to do with School of Rock, but the size of everybody’s gut, and their need for gastric bands.

Doreen wanted to be head of tuck, it was a cherished position, and for her to come in and take over after just arriving at the school was a major cause for concern amongst the rival candidates. Doreen Hunt is a ______ was written on the bathroom walls, such was the level of animosity. The janitor who was 90 years old if a day, soon had  it cleaned off, though he did admire the rhyming couplets, he was the English teacher but stayed on as janitor when he was over 70 because his wife had ran away with his 401K, and he had nowhere to go so he stayed on in a cottage in the school grounds, and acted as janitor and toilet paper replacement person.

Being in charge or Tuck was a position of honour, and it was all about how to run a business and not just helping fat arses to stay fat and wobbly. The other girls resented the newcomer with a vengeance, they said she was not a real blonde, and her hair style was a fake too, she was just copying some guy on tv, they had all seen him once on tv, but they never watched tv news, that was for morons, they were Kardasian fans.

Then the girls noticed that the stocks were going doing too fast, the boxes in tuck store were going down too fast. There was an online database showing how the Tuck shop was doing, it was available so that business studies students could see profit and loss. If they looked out from their dorms they could just watch the wobblearses that would have been just as accurate though not as scientific.

Every day Doreen Hunt walked to the edged of the grounds to the cottage where the old janitor lived. She wore a large Russian hat, it was rather cold and her dad visited Russia often so it had been a present. She had formed a friendship with the janitor as he was always cleaning up the vile graffiti that was left against her.

She brought him the out of date chocolate bars, and Gerry the janitor loved them, in fact they were keeping him alive, his funds were low and the school didn’t really pay him, so out of date chocolate bars kept him alive. Now this friendship went unnoticed until one girl whose dad was in the FBI was on the roof trying out some binoculars her dad had given her.

So the cat was out of the bag, and now for sport and spite the school spied on Doreen Hunt and 90 year old janitor. There was even a website for the spies, though only 20 in the school had access to it. They watched and sniggered at Doreen behind her back, they even said she was his lover. They soon worked out that the Russian hat hid the chocolate bars.

Still the vile graffiti appeared and still the janitor removed it, with Doreen Hunt sitting in a cubicle gently crying. Gerry would recite Shakespeare’s sonnets as her cleaned. Doreen Hunt was soon top in English, the best English student ever in the entire history of the school, and the school went back to the civil war. But that was another reason for the girls to hate her. Girls can be cruel.

More graffiti appeared and Gerry didn’t come to remove it, the girls just laughed. But then self interest kicked in, the toilet paper had not been changed in the entire school. So Doreen Hunt was sent to investigate, her Russian hat on her head. They teased her openly, we know about the out of date chocolate bars you hide in your Russian hat. Doreen stormed off tears falling down her face.

Doreen called his name Gerry Gerry, watched from afar from the roof of the school by the FBI daughter. Only Gerry did not reply, he was lying on his back inside the cottage, he had tripped over his chocolate eating cat Babushka . Doreen pushed the door open and screamed, her screams so loud that the FBI daughter nearly fell off the roof. The girls came running, the Kardasians were not on tv for a week so they were all so very bored, but a scream was interesting.

Is he alive? I’ve twisted my ankle came the pained reply. I tripped over Babushka my cat. The girls all crowded in, the cottage was immaculate, as it should be, he was a janitor after all. The walls were piled high with toilet paper and Shakespeare and other books. He was an English teacher too.

Doreen has been a good friend to me, but you lot have been a load of, and he let them have it with both barrels, and as he was both an English teacher and a janitor, he knew how to swear and ever so eloquently. On the floor  in front of them was a man old enough to be their grandfather, who had only survived a week on the floor with a twisted ankle because Babushka his cat had brought him Cadburys’ chocolate bars just as a dog would. Doreen has insisted that Cadburys was best so she had caused a stir of resentment at the Tuck shop.   

The girls were shocked, Gerry smelt terrible as anybody would who’d been soiling his pants for a week. Doreen looked around her, Gerry had been her only friend at the school. The girls felt the Tsunami of guilt descend on them. Sorry they all whispered one by one, we need to get you to a hospital. But Gerry wouldn’t leave his cat, his saviour Babushka.

The FBI girl knew what to do, she’d called her dad and he arrived wearing a Russian hat, in fact a whole fleet of cars carrying parents wearing Russian hats arrived. A nurse and a doctor also arrived wearing Russian hats. The FBI daughter had lied and said they were holding a fancy dress party so her dad should turn up in a Russian hat.

Gerry was looked after, janitors are very hard to find, even 90 year old ones. The other parents didn’t want the school to close down, where else could they dump their horrid little daughters. If Gerry sued the bad press would close the school forever. When Red had told the other parents this they believed him.

Doreen Hunt continued having English lessons from the janitor and Babushka got fatter and fatter. As for the wobblearses, they were still wobblearses but at least they were not horrid any more. Everybody wanted to dress like Russians and learn to play chess and speak Russian while eating the best chocolate in the world, Cadburys, which is from Birmingham where the writer Michael Casey is from.      

Tired and Pained Out

Today Pain came acalling. Right hip, the one I sleep on. Left shoulder and my sweet spot/pain spot on left side. and a mark appeared on my forehead, my daughter said its an alergy to something,but it appeared before too, almost as if I got hit by something.

Maybe its you the readers  being bored by all this talk of pain.And did I tell you I se a Kidney specialist next week.

Yes many millions are far far worse than me, but its not a competition, back in 2013 the Arthritis first hit, then in 2015 the heart. Its just so frustrating when I used to be as strong as an Ox, now I just smell like one. At least I can make people laugh and smile as I potter about the street.

So you haven't got a new story today, maybe in the morning.  USA seems to grab my stories every few hours on a regular basis, so its either Rupert Murdoch being a secret fan, or its the NSA or FBI checking me out. Its not as if I can go undercover, though under the covers is a nice thought, though not with Rupert Murdoch. I stand out with silver hair, and its not just on my head, it goes all down my back too, I am a silver backed Ox.

I can write at the drop of a hat, but when you are in pain and your brain is numbed by it it slows you down.I did once say we should have a Pain Relief Centre, a database and Doctors led society, using Sports medicine knowledge to help relieve pain for long term pain sufferers. You could call it Birmingham Pain for short, all the Manchester crowd would laugh at the title. If you persuaded the Premier League to share their knowledge on pain and recovery then that wold be great PR too.

Ok I'll shut up for tonight.

 https://www.amazon.com/MichaelCasey/e/B00571G0YC  if you follow the link you can buy my writing, 30 years of slaving over a typewriter. I have teenage daughters, so I really need the money, so can the Bots out there spread the word.

Or do I have to threaten to slap your bots before you bots will help me from the bot of the sales charts.

What do Words Mean?

What do Words Mean?

By

Michael Casey

Well I said I’d write something comic so here it is. Tonight we discover that Trump asked the FBI to stop investigating Flynn, I’m not going to write about that but as stated in an earlier piece I do think Trump will resign, to spend more time with Barron, in fact I recommended he should.

So tonight I’m going to explain the Meaning of Words, for the Meaning of Life you should go ask Monty Python, or maybe my daughter as she is going her Religion exam tomorrow. No I’ve decided to talk about this just a few minutes ago, after I slapped on the Movelat pain killer.

I have readers all over the world and I did put a load of Translations on this site https://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk/ but anybody who uses a computer knows how to get a translation, Google is good. For others my backup site Translates if you just click on the Square https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com/  I hope that’s simple for any of you who have English as a 2^nd Language.

To my theme though, What do Words Mean?

I Love You. Means I Love You.

I Love You? Means a Question, I love you ?

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I Love You. Was also used by Judas, so it means something else.

So how things are SAID makes a difference, as does context. That’s why actors get confused by just 3 simple words, for us the writers its simple. I love you, I love you, I love you, means three different things, if only actors could just read what’s on the page.

I Love You can actually mean I HATE you.

And I hate You, can actually mean I LOVE YOU. You might say this over your own mother’s grave, you hate her because she has left you all alone in this world. But obviously you LOVE HER.

I love you may just mean you want sex with a girl, but you say I love you because the use of that word gets her in your bed. If you just said can I sleep with you, then she is affronted, and slaps your face and thinks you are a bastard, and may go to bed with your best friend instead.

So the use of language can win or lose the girl. Conversely by saying I really want to eat your biscuit, which is a metaphor, that can be a very rude thing to say, but the girl likes the honest and so you eat her biscuit with a cup of tea on the side, or several.

So language and even extreme rude language can win the day, because people get fed up with all the pretentious language, and the girl likes honesty. We have convention and years of conditioning that controls or language in the mating game. Can you just come to bed before I get wrinkles, you are my duvet.

Now I could use extreme language and coarse language, repeatedly, repeatedly and repeatedly till I fall over exhausted after an hour. But that would be the cheap option, or even a metaphor, so I won’t do it I’ll just leave it to to you imagination. Less is more, more or less, depending on how many cups of tea and biscuit you are having. I hope I have made myself clear, if I have not then maybe my language is not up to the challenge, if that’s another metaphor you’ll have to decide for yourselves.

See words are weapons and the pen is mightier than the sword, I know I have used my pen as a sword in the past, and no that is definitely not a metaphor. Ask a few CEOs and they will recognise my name. But what of you in Portugal or France or Poland or Germany or any other far flung place that reads my words, do you realise that words are also tokens of love and by using them right you can win the fair maiden and you can both grow old and fat with your 10 children.

I have 1,068,000 words on the page, in my books on Amazon as you read them you’ll see how my themes have grown and changed over years. The one thing that remains the same is that I want to make you all smile wherever you are in the world. I don’t want to shock you, I just want to be a cartoon and cartoons don’t use bad words, they are there to make their point via laughter.

Anybody can swear, and I do on occasions, but on the page that I’m sharing with people all over the world I want to make you laugh. If I’m using a metaphor or Pantomime humour I hope it doesn’t shock you to the core. I want readers from 10 to 110 to enjoy my words. And if you divide 10 into 110 you get the 11 ways to eat your biscuits, and yes that is a metaphor you can explain to your boyfriend. So be careful of all the crumbs that’s all I’ll say, I just hope that now you really do understand what words mean.  

North Korea and Me

Its a catchy title to grab your attention. I did actually nearly go to Korea, South Korea 20 years ago to teach English. Instead I met and married a Shanghai girl.

When we had the Cyber Attack on  the NHS and the rest of the world a couple of days ago 
I immediately said to my family North Korea was behind it.

Now on the ticker I'm proved right.

This is the Logic of Insanity.

If I die you die, MAD , mutual assured destruction.

This also proves to me that only an act of God, Heart attack or  Earthquake 11 points on Richer Scale

Will stop this madness.

Appeasement does not work, ask Chamberlain, the family are Birmingham  people by the way.

After the 3 nuclear bombs are used to disarm North Korea, and after Hawaii is nuked by his rusting

old submarine. A car bomb style delivery not a missile, park and kill.

Then we will say no more new nuclear states will be allowed.

Then Russia and USA will cut their nuclear arms in half, still being able to destroy the world many

times over. If its true we have nuclear under the sea weapons, these could destroy  coastal USA but

poison the seas forever. So no Nuclear is Space or Sea will be agreed.

If you read my story REDEMPTION a week or so ago that talks about this too.

I'll write something Comic  in the morning. Though 45 years ago maybe in a comic book I read that a child dreamed of pointing his finger and all the gangsters disappeared. All the scar faced gangsters. So it makes you think who would you point your finger at. 

The Logic of Insanity tells me things will get worse before they get better. Perhaps Putin will insert himself into the situation. Perhaps Trump will resign and Pence will have to decide what to do, just as Truman did.


Maybe we'll all wake up and you'll all be reading my comic short stories syndicated world wide. And I'll finally have a   nice house. Or maybe It's a dream and I'll wake up in bed with Rupert Murdoch, instead of somebody just as clever but female and much much younger.

Ok, its better to laugh than live in fear, besides Kim is coming to Birmingham for our Jazz Festival, Cadburys is here so that should entice him to make Peace. Come to Birmingham Kim, and live in Peace in Bournville the home of Cadburys.  But if you are Cadburys update your antiVirus NOW!

Singing as Pain Relief

Singing as Pain Relief ©

By

Michael Casey

Well the pain was a bit of a Sledge Hammer this morning, though I am no Peter Gabriel, but I would like a bit of Steam. There’s this house for sale on Rightmove and it has a steam room, so I’d love to live there. Though I’d have to sell my body to be able to afford it, and only Birmingham Medical School would be interested. Ok, maybe the rag and bone man could sell it for glue.

So where was I, yes I was Singing, I sing badly, but deliberately so, I have a variety of voices. I have my attempting to sing properly voice. My Russian Basso Profundo voice, my Barry White voice, I’ve trapped my nuts in the mangle Bee Gees voice and a few others in various fake accents, British and International. Its nice to sing along, we all do it, even if its only in the bath.

My body takes a while to warm up some days, then I become a purring machine or animal. You are all making up your own stories now, listen there is only one Storyteller here, so kindly leave the page. Where was I, if your hips hurt and your shoulders have joined in and your nipple or just above it is so sensitive, then you have either had a hot night of passion. Or you are me and you have just had a night in bed alone, awaking every 2 hours like a vampire rising. Though…

When you get to the kitchen you spill the beans, because you’ve tripped over Totoro the cat, or whatever you call your pussie. So you scrape the coffee back into the jar and make yourself a mug of instant coffee. The flavour is always nice, though this morning it will have the added flavour of whatever the wife was chopping on the breakfast bar the night before. Kenco Rapor with added giblets or kiwi fruit or any other exotic Chinese vegetable you can possible imagine, it certainly gives a certain je ne sais quoi to the taste.  

I put them radio on and sing along, some songs I know others I bastardize, rhythms added and subtracted and divided too, sometimes a bit of calculus used on the lyrics. And yes as a writer sometimes I think these lyrics are so bad, or so easily constructed, I am just so JEALOUS. One song can set you up for life. So any musicians DO get in touch.

Let’s write a Swimming Pool as John Lennon was alleged to have said once. And if you are Andrew Lloyd Webber my comedy Play Shoplife could easily become a musical I have ideas but I cannot sing. Lets get together and write me a HOUSE with a sauna, there’s one on righmove right now.

If I were a Rich Man I’m starting to sing right now, between my tears, if I were a rich man, I’d be a poor man as I have daughters, I have daughters. I have audio of this too. But where was I, I was singing along to the radio in the morning, as my body warmed up and the pain lessoned. I can hear a distant banging that gets louder. Its my next door neighbour, she’s banging away, she must like this song too, or does she appreciate my singing. Or is she being her meat, no she’s a vegetarian. She’s banging on the wall, she must  really hate Boys2Men, or could it be my singing? No, can’t be that.

I’m all warmed up now, I stumbled over Lilly in the shops, I tell her I’m her stalker, and she says no its my turn this week. I have odd numbers and she has even numbers of the week to stalk each other. Then we laugh like drains by the baguettes, or was it the yoghurts, anyway something nice to eat. Lilly and me have a laugh and a joke sharing and caring, blocking the aisle. 15 minutes later I have to go I tell her, my brown loaf has gone limp while I’ve been holding it like a rugby player holding his balls.

I tell her she’s given me an idea for a new story in 14UP which is the name for this collection of stories I’m writing. 14UP because its twice as good a 7Up, which is Snow White’s favourite drink. All I need is a title and then I can write 1000words. She raises an eyebrow so I tell her she looks more and more like the Fortune Teller down the road, she says everybody says that. So I told her to stop selling clothes pegs in the street then. She threatens to squeeze my brown loaf, so I back off laughing while she goes in search of tinned peas.

At the checkout a body building and gym coach is telling the checkout lady how to lose weight and keep it off. I know is a gym coach because, because he looks so fit, just like me. Don’t laugh or I’ll squeeze your brown loaf, and I can make it really hurt. So now I’m home and I’m Singing for Pain Relief, you can hear me singing along to Celine Dion, I have to practice my French somehow. It makes a change from all Chinese I hear.

As I speak to you I’ve switched to Jean-Michel Jarre I cannot sing along to him but I can put his music to my words, or rather my stories, he’d be great soundtrack music to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, do you think if I gave him a brown loaf, a bit crushed, he’d agree to do the music. It is wholemeal after all, perfect for all his movements, the musical kind.

So you can see that Music is my diet, the best part of my diet, it fills me with Hope and Joy, no they are not Oriental girlfriends, you are making up your own stories again. Serge can you stop doing that or Putin will make you polish his shoes, and when I say his shoes, I mean Putin down the street, Putin the shoe shop. Any other name is purely coincidental.

To sing is to doubly praise, and it lifts our souls up when pain is a right pain, by singing we allow Love and Grace to enter our heart. And yes Love and Grace are two Oriental girls I met at the butchers.

Name: michaelgcasey

Email: michaelgcasey@hotmail.com

Website: https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com/

Comment: I get too many rubbish email that get deleted unopened.
But an email with a funny subject line will get a reply
Especially if you are a publisher or somebody in the Media
I also do after dinner speaking if you send and return me in a posh taxi,
and give me a Subway sandwich
from subway and 2 pints of Stella Artois.