Nights in Malta

Nights in Malta

Nights in Malta ©

By Michael Casey

Before I start I should tell you I had a great week in Malta in 2013 and I long to return, even though it was there that my Arthur my Arthritis started to hit home. I was overjoyed that I could buy Deep Heat in Malta. Now its 4 years on and my unplanned quadruple heart bypass has overtaken me. I was told it was a triple but it was a quadruple I discovered 6 months later.

My cKd needs to be watched too, I’m telling you all this so that you can understand just how important it is to me that I can WRITE, its food for my Spirit even if you lot like it or not. So now I’m going to share part of a story that’ll become part of a chapter in Tears for a Butcher my full length sequel to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker.

Now read on and apologies to Navy Seals everywhere, please don’t leave a horse’s head in my bed, a Subway one foot long sandwich would be better……

So it was all true, Tiny wasn’t mad or just battled out at all, he really was a seer, he saw it all the time, but when he wrote that picture in pencil and crayon the Admiral had to make a decision, so Tiny was grounded, his flippers taken away. So that’s when he became a bodyguard for that zillionaire’s old mum, lucky for her he was there he had to take care of her. He was more like a son to her, and that’s why she always wears a scarf, somebody got to her, before Tiny got to them. It covers the scar.

So what happened in Malta? Well Ester made a friend with this Irish woman in Birmingham, the one in England. You know how she likes to have real friends not people sucking up to her son, or trying to get a foot in the door. So when she heard about the triple birth, that was impossible, you’ll have to ask a gyno doctor to explain it. Anyhow Ester prayed like crazy, as only a Jew can pray. And her friend prayed like only an Irish Catholic can. But most of all Rita in Malta who was Mrs Murphy’s friend she prayed like only the Maltese can pray, and after what they put up with from those Nazi SOBs in the war they know how to pray.

So these triplets were born in Birmingham, in their Dudley Road hospital. And it was impossible, I can’t explain everything as we haven’t got the time. But it turns out that Rita’s son was the lead gyno  doctor. He had renounced his Faith went his dad had died and he with all his medical knowledge could not save him. But when the triplets were born they each had a Maltese cross birthmark on their shoulder. Mrs Murphy and Rita had met and done a deal, if one helped her friend have a child, just one pregnancy, then Mrs Murphy would pray that her son came back to the Faith.

So Almighty God killed two birds with one stone. He sure did, then Ester jumped out of the shadows, she’d flown non stop from Vegas just to be there. Everybody was so excited, Mrs Murphy was crying because she had not kept her side of the bargain. Then the doc revealed himself and it came out that he was Rita’s son. He was an old bachelor, but his nurse had loved him for years. You’re having me on, no for sure, Almighty God was settling all the scores in one day.

So they decided to go back to Malta immediately and marry before his old mother died. Only the French air traffic control were on strike, those SOBs are always on strike. So Ester threw a bitchy fit, she got Tiny to press the red button on his phone. 14 satellites bleeped and the War Room went to condition amber. He son makes all the military satellites, its a bit like chipping your dog, but with Norad answering.

So to keep it short, a Nato war game was interrupted and 4 assault and recovery helicopters descended on down town Birmingham. Took the doc and his crew to Birmingham airport. They put the helicopters on the K734ASD plane and headed for Malta with F15 tomcats as escort. That Zillionaire really loves his mum, and the Joint Chiefs of staff love her too. Mrs Murphy did insist on visiting the duty free at the airport, it frightened a few people, Special Forces ambling through the duty free. But Mrs Mrs Murphy did insist on getting Rita and the soon to be newly weds a few presents. One of the forces chatted up the girl at the checkout and , well that’s another story.

My that’s a busy story. It ain’t finished, Ester’s son rang to hire the entire Hilton, only he got suspicious of their tone of voice. So he brought up the Hilton on 3 of his satellites. The Mafia were holding a meeting at the Hilton. When Tiny and the Special forces were informed they just smiled and jump straight out of the plane and cleared the mafia from the Hilton, so it wasn’t a waste of a day as far as Special Forces were concerned.

So that’s the end? No. Everything went well and the doc married his nurse in Malta, Rita and Mrs Murphy were overjoyed. Ester’s poker club in Vegas were annoyed because Ester had left them so suddenly. So she set her phone up so that her Vegas friends could play poker against some old Maltese men.

It was then that it happened. One of the Mafia had been hiding in a cupboard and sprung out. It was a room full of people and kids too. Tiny was going to do his stuff and save everybody but he was afraid that some kids would get hurt by stray bullets. So he’d have to smother the Mafia guy, Tiny would probably die, but everybody would be safe.

Ester looked at the statue of the Virgin Mary in the corner of the ballroom, us 2 Jews alone in a room full of Gentiles. Let it be me that dies, I’m old, let it be me not Tiny, he’s like a son to me, he never got that girl he dreamed about. He drew her picture on paper, so pretty, then all red in the left hand side of her face. Please Mary, as one Jew to another, save all these Gentiles.

My granny used to ask me to sing for her, why don’t you sing for me.

Ester stood up as requested by the only other Jew in the room, so Ester sung something all the Gentiles would love. She sung the Ave Maria, Ester sung the Ave Maria. One by one they all got up and defiantly sung the Ave Maria. The Mafia guy was astounded, a wall of sound, Phil Spector producing Ave Maria.

Tiny could see this might give him an edge,and he edged forward ready to leap, ready to save everybody. At that moment Ester’s  prayer was answered, Tiny got to see his girl, for a waitress entered through the far door. She was beautiful beyond compare, and on the left side of her face was a port wine stain birthmark. Now the girl had been teased all her life because of her mark of shame. But she too had had a vision, or rather a voice in a dream. A man from the sea will marry you, the bravest man in the world is the only one good enough for you.

At that moment Tiny saw his girl and they both knew the prophecy had been revealed. Would it all end in death. Both begged the Virgin to save the other, let them live even if they died. At that same time  the girl, Rose was her name, she grabbed a saucer and threw it like a frisbee hitting the Mafia guy on his adam’s apple. As he choked Tiny flew with Saint Michael the Archangel himself flapping his wings behind him. The Mafia guy was disarmed and bundled away.

So that explains why every Navy Seal in the service is heading for Malta. Its true, we had to ask the Commander in Chief for special permission. He only agreed when we told him that Rose knew Tiny’s service number, she had dreamed it all those years ago.     

******and yes this could be a stand alone film, so Netflix or Amazon do get in touch

michaelgcasey@hotmail.com Film Rights in subject line……..

me stood at the back door, will somebody open it for this Writer?

BBU in HebrewDownload

had a good cry

had a good cry

and why

I just read in full the Lech Boris and Gregorgi story

the one from yesterday

I've not read it in full for ages

I might write a story and read it back a few times

and never read it again, or just once in a blue moon

So I was moved by what I read

remember I am a Reader too

not just a writer

I bet you never realized that

I like cartoons too as they have POWER



So everybody Think for Yourself

read 3 different newspapers

and listen to quality news

NOT just entertainment news

Here's something from 4 years ago

Vote for me, I’m Bob! ©

By 

Michael Casey

Yes vote for me I’m Bob! I worked my way up from the gutter now I have a mansion. So if you vote for me then you’ll have a mansion too.     I have a beautiful wife and 3 adorable children, one of each, ok one is gay, but if you say that’s because I’m a bad father or there is something wrong in my downstairs department, then you might not wake up.

Johnnie and the boys might just pay you a visit, after they’ve collected the protection money. You’ll have to join a ladies choir after they finish with you. Johnnie is very loyal, very loyal, I saved his life, I said he could be my loyal lieutenant or I’d put explosives in his pants, literally.

After that he’s been better than a brother to me, gives me cakes on my birthday, he bakes them himself if you know what I mean. But he’s like a best friend to my gay son Julian, so with a lieutenant like that and a best friend for Julian we are close, very close. But don’t be casting aspersions on the size of my hands, or he’ll come around and set fire to your house, and your neighbours too, he does enjoy his work.

I started as an embalmer and mortician, but I knew it was a dead end job, though that’s where I met my Lady, my Nancy. She was the receptionist at the Funeral House, the Sleeping Oaks Funeral Home Inc. We made out in a deluxe coffin, she appreciated the size of my hands if you know what I mean, though the lid came down and we nearly suffocated inside. Though the sexual high was unbelievable, you don’t know you’ve have sex until  you’ve nearly died in a coffin. Perhaps that Harry Potter girl should forget her website and just date a mortician.

Nancy got pregnant fast, from death to birth, poetic don’t you think? I decided we needed to make so money fast. So I started to street race using a hearse, those cars are always looked after, and never do much mileage. So it was obvious, and I won prizes and bets on the side, so soon we had enough for a down payment on a house.

I had learnt a bit about cars so I left the funeral home and started a garage fixing up off road racing cars, I was good at that, and I still did a bit of racing and betting on the side. Obviously I could make cars have accidents for the right price, so soon the money came rolling in.

I got asked to fix up a car for a bank job, I said I’d only do it if I could be the driver, I was proud of my work after all. So I became a getaway driver, I was very good at it. We did several jobs and I repainted the car after every job. We did 17 maybe, and my stash was in the mattress. Sex on a mattress full of 100 dollar bills, is good, in God We Trust, and all that. Not as good as in a deluxe coffin with the lid stuck, but you’re not worried by any unplanned pregnancy, you have a child trust fund in the mattress after all.

Nobody’s luck lasted and on our 23 job, the FBI were waiting, they waited for us to put all the money in the car before they pounced. There were 4 of us, 5 if you count me waiting in the car when they FBI screamed at us over the loudspeaker. Stop, hands up and exit the car. We all blamed each other, this was big hit $2,000,000 in cash and now we’d be going to jail forever.

So I waited for the others to get out and then I floored it, my 4 buddies all got mown down in the crossfire, dead as dead can be. But I could recommend a good funeral home. I looked up at the Madonna on the dashboard and swore I’d never be a getaway driver again if she helped me. At that very same moment a tornado hit, it’d been brewing now it hit. So I got away.

I ditched the car, but kept the money. I set fire to it in fact, and pushed it into a lake afterwards. I called a taxi, it was Johnnie driving, that’s how we first met. I decided to open a taxi firm, Johnnie looked after it for me. I opened a bakery and a general store, and a little motel. A hairdressers too, Nancy always liked her hair to look good, so if we owned a salon she’d never need to wait.

I knew the Madonna had to be taken care of too so I started doing good works and I even decided to join the Republic Party. For no other reason that I liked the colour Red. My business empire expanded and I bought a book shop, reading was important wasn’t it? I made sure that Michael Casey’s books were always in stock, I never read any of them, but having a Birmingham England writer’s books made our store more exotic.

All I needed now was a mistress, so Mandy from our hairdressers was available, and sex in a hairdresser’s chair is something else, not as good as a rocking chair, or in a deluxe coffin, but still very good. My life was coming up roses. So I bought a pharmacy too, just to make sure my mistress Mandy didn’t give me parallel parenthood.

So that’s about all I can say for now, I have to write a speech for the Caucus, I’ve met this pretty little thing called Brandy, she’s so full of vigour and she’s an English Major at the University. She studying at the building I funded, I am a respectable member of the community after all.

We hit it off straight away, she helped me with my research, and one thing led to another. We nearly knocked over a few shelves of books, but I do believe in turning over a new leaf or leaves if you know what I mean. It’s a hard life in Politics.

or you could read my book:-

 Chapter 9 of

The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker

M.P. Married to a Person, Married to a People

it's online

It's a Comedy election campaign, aren't they all

Caught up on Sleep then Pain caught me up + a big Lech Boris Gregorgi story

Caught up on Sleep then Pain caught me up

Who says I don't have any variety in my life

I'm pleased America seems to have woken up

But VOTING will only make a difference

So Organise NOW

Down to who will give a ride to polling places

Everything has to be made ready

Was it 60,000 vote that swung it for Trump in 2016

I've had about 5 hours of pain, so no new story today

I only take Paracetamol and Movelat gel

As other stuff would kill my kidneys even more

More Pain, to save my Brain

Otherwise I'd be an addict, so I chose pain

I'm going to pick a random story, I know they are all random

Anyway I'll pick something and you can have that as bedtime reading

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi Chase a Thief ©

By

Michael Casey

Popaloffoff is the name of Lech, Boris and Gregorgi’s home village, where Poland, Ukraine and Russia make love on the map. It minds its own business and likes it when others do the same. It does not matter is it Polish or Ukrainian or even Russian territory, it’s Popaloffoff  through and through. Everybody knows each other and any of the 3 languages will do. But American dollars are preferred, that is always best the world over.

The Priest in Popaloffoff is called Tolstoy, yes really, he always has a Bible story to tell, it’s up to you the reader to decide which kind of story you prefer, a Tolstoy epic from the writer, or a Bible story from Tolstoy the Priest. Tolstoy the Priest always wears rose tinted glasses, not because he poses like a Pop star, or because the Bible makes him see things differently. But for a far far tragic reason, you see Tolstoy only has one eye. There was an accident or should I say incident, Tolstoy lost his eye when he was a young man, a young priest sent to Popaloffoff to tend the sheep.

Tolstoy had and still has a fierce Faith, when the tide was turning in the War, the Nazi bastards were retreating, the people of Popaloffoff feared they would come and destroy their church, and their village. Anything to destroy the Soul of the people. Tolstoy said he’s take the Holy Icon out of the church and stand at the Pass in the mountains and pray that the Evil Nazis went away, went back from where they came from. So in the middle of Winter Tolstoy stood for 15 days holding the Holy Icon aloft. Mary Mother of Popaloffoff  protect us. And so she did, Tolstoy lost two toes and 2 fingers due to frostbite, but the village was saved from the retreating evil. Tolstoy put the icon back in a leather bag and was still saying the Rosary when he heard a motorbike.

A Nazi SS man had wanted to see what was at the end of the Pass, so he had taken a motorbike and went alone to see what was what. Tolstoy spun around, you cannot pass, this town is under the protection of the Mother Mary, I have her icon here. The Nazi SS man laughed and drew his dagger. Tolstoy was tired and weak after the 15 days standing in the snow. So she has her eyes on your nothing village. YES said a defiant Tolstoy. So if she has her eyes, then you don’t need yours. Then the Nazi SS man stabbed Tolstoy in his right eye, leaving his dagger in the socket. Tolstoy screamed, his scream set off an avalanche, the Nazi was swept from the pass, only his motor bike remained. Tolstoy’s blood formed a cross in the snow, not an Iron cross, just a Holy Cross.

Tolstoy took the motorbike and rode down the mountain to the village, they were safe, the pass was blocked and the retreating Nazi bastards would not bother them. The Blacksmith in Popaloffoff removed the dagger and used a red hot horseshoe to cauterise the wound. He did make sure the horseshoe was the right way up, so the Priest could say it was good luck. And that is why Tolstoy wears rose tinted glasses, so as not to frighten people with his looks.

The Icon was returned to the village, and left in a place of honour. As for the Nazi bastard, the wolves had his body for dinner they are not picky who they dine on. So life went on in the village, minding its own business, until Tolstoy was crying from his one eye saying that the Icon was missing. This was over 70 years later, Tolstoy was still the Priest and though a bit slower, he was still loved so much. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi came running. Our icon is missing.

Now let me try to explain, an icon is not photo of your favourite footballer, or a selfie of a President and a Dictator, though it can be hard to tell which is which. An Icon is something you treasure, like a wedding ring, or memories you have of your mother. It has value thousands or millions of times greater than it’s worth. As a work of Art and Love and Prayer combined it is in fact Priceless. In fact some Icons if sold would fetch millions of dollars, and Professional Criminals use Art of a way of moving money, like Bearers Bonds.

And yes Popaloffoff’s icon was Priceless and worth many many millions, in fact when Andrew Graham Dixon, England’s greatest Art Expert happened upon Popaloffoff when he was on a hiking and food holiday with his Italian friend, he cried for 30 mins nonstop. Tolstoy had to give him a hug and Bless him. Andrew Graham Dixon was so overwhelmed, when he was allowed to examine it, he wondered about the blood stains on the back, so Tolstoy explained how he’d lost his eye and some fingers and toes years before. Andrew Graham Dixon cried even more. Then his Italian friend shared a recipe with the women of Popaloffoff, then everybody got blind drunk, if you excuse the expression.

But now, but now the Holy Icon of Polaloffoff was missing. There had been a bus of tourists, who had had visited the day before, but they were long gone. That’s if it were them, but who else could it have been? Mother Mary of Popaloffoff Speak to Me, Hear my Voice, Hear my Prayer said Tolstoy the Priest, tears still streaming from his one good eye, as he fell to his knees in the middle of the square outside their church. Bori, Lech and Gregorgi sunk to their knees besides him, soon the entire village were on their knees praying. Mother Mary of Popaloffoff was moved, Tolstoy could hear a quiet voice in his head, I am always with you. Do not cry, an Icon is nothing, compared to my love.

Tolstoy shook his head, I know, I know forgive me, but we want you back where you belong, here in Popaloffoff. Mary smiled, Tolstoy smiled, he’d bring her back if it was the last thing he did before he died. WE RIDE said Tolstoy as he got to his feet, Lech, Boris and Gregorgi wondered what he meant. They followed him, to the shed by the church. Inside was the Nazi’s motorbike, still in mint condition. There was no time to argue, Lech and Boris sat on the bike with Gregorgi and Tolstoy squeezed into the sidecar.

As they roared off they sent a text message to Andrew Graham Dixon, our Lady of Popaloffoff STOLEN. That’s all it said but they knew he would help. In fact Andrew Graham Dixon sent a message to every Art Collector he knew, nobody could attempt selling it on, and if they did Andrew Graham Dixon would know and he had friends in Interpol. This was Sacrilege, then he cried, before having his beans on toast, with lobster and a Guinness.

The trio of cousins did not know where they were going, they were just doing as their old priest told them. When they got to new main road they stopped. Left or Right? Tolstoy took off his rose tinted sunglasses and looked to the Heavens. A tiny voice in his head told him Left, so they went left. The Trio of Cousins wondered what was going on, but said nothing. On they rode, further and further away from the village.

They came across a car with a puncture, so they stopped to help. They had to be good Samaritans after all. They did not have a jack just a spare tyre, so Lech, Boris and Gregorgi lifted the car while Tolstoy helped change the tyre. A family with a baby thanked them, as they were about to go Tolstoy asked had the baby been baptised. No, was the reply, so on the spot Tolstoy baptised the baby, with Lech, Boris and Gregorgi as Godfathers. The family were deeply touched and shouted God Bless You as they rode away.

See a Blessing, said Tolstoy. But Fate and Evil always rears its ugly head, they were running out of petrol. They stopped at the side of the road, and what appeared coming from the opposite direction. A gang of Hells Angels. Tolstoy said, God is Good, as the Hells Angels approached, but he reached into his boot and brought out the dagger the SS Nazi had put in his eye. He’d kept the dagger all those years, now maybe he’s need to use it to defend himself.

The Hells Angels circled and pulled over besides them, Tolstoy took off his rose tinted sunglasses. Perhaps they’d be impressed by his scar, they were. One lady on a bike actually puked. Then the leader of the Hells Angels spoke, Hi I’m Wayne from Fort Worth, we are on a biking holiday, how can we help. They were tourists on a trip of a lifetime.

Tolstoy explained. Son of a Bitch, said the Hells Angels in Unison. Wayne texted his friend in the FBI, those bastards wouldn’t sell the icon in USA, or his name wasn’t Wayne Duke Hazzard III. So the Hells Angels said they’d ride with them part of the way. They had some extra petrol so they’d all be underway. Tolstoy asked could he ride pillion with somebody as he was a bit cramped in the sidecar with Gregorgi. So Tolstoy rode with Mary-Beth.

As they rode Tolstoy asked, did she enjoy being a Hells Angel, she replied it was a bit of fun at weekends, as they had no children. Tolstoy remarked you have the breasts for a great mother, Mary-Beth laughed but there was sadness too in her laughter. So Tolstoy silently prayed for her and all the Hells Angels. Further up the road they went their separate ways. But first Tolstoy Bless all of Them, may Our Lady of Popaloffoff protect you. He also showed them a photo of the icon.

Little did he know, little did the pretend Hells Angels know, what the future would bring. And on they rode, Tolstoy listening to the quiet voice in his head which was leading him to the Icon. It was getting dark, and they would have to stop for the night. But there was no room at the inn, a Beer Festival was taking place, so everywhere was booked out. But they were welcome to stop in the hay loft above cows in the barn.

So they did, and luckily the cows did not complain about the smell, in their leathers they’d managed to get very smelly. In the middle of the night there was a commotion, one of the cows a prize one at that was having difficulty giving birth. The Inn Keeper came out running in his night shirt. He was so worried for has Beauty, for that was the name of his cow. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi knew what to do and they must hurry. So Tolstoy gave them the Nazi’s dagger and they cut the cow out, before sewing the cow back up again. Blood everywhere, but in fact two cows were born, one in fact a bull, that’s why the mum was having difficulty. When the boys had finished the vet finally arrived. He was impressed to say the least.

The Innkeeper was delighted and in the morning made breakfast for all 4 of them, himself. Then Tolstoy said Mass in the carpark for everybody, and everybody said God Bless, and the cows in all the fields mooed in unison. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi wondered would they ever catch the Icon thief, but Tolstoy always said God was Good, and still the little voice in Tolstoys head encouraged him. In fact the voice was getting stronger, so Our Lady of Popaloffoff Icon was getting closer to them.

They continued along the road, and there was nothing but fields, fields and fields. Then they noticed a sign, Air Strip this way. They stopped the bike, in the distance was a small aircraft. Fly, Tolstoy Fly was what the old priest could hear in his head. So the floored the motorbike, went as fast as they could go. But it was too late, the light aircraft was going to take off.

But then Luck shone on them, the light aircraft turned around, it was heading towards them, it had been taxiing to the end of the strip. Now they had a chance. A chance to play chicken. Lech headed straight for the plane. The pilot thought he was mad, and so he was. You never steal from Popaloffoff, and never from a church in Popaloffoff, and Our Lady of Popaloffoff Icon belongs in only one place, Popaloffoff.

Tolstoy stood up in the sidecar and took the Nazi dagger from his boot, then he prayed, guide my hand Mary of Popaloffoff. He threw the dagger into the engine as Lech passed underneath the light aircraft. 70+ years ago the icon had saved village, now he would save the icon.

The plane stopped, and the engine caught fire, luckily they had a fire engine at the strip. Unlucky for the pilot and his 2 passengers there were Police galore hiding. All 3 bad guys were arrested. You see Andrew Graham Dixon and Wayne had both contacted Interpol and the FBI immediately. It turned out Art thieves were on a road trip, but now it was the end of the road, or rather the end of the airstrip for them.

So Tolstoy was reunited with his beloved Icon, and several more were rescued. As for the dagger, Evil had been turned to good. One of the Policemen knew of a motor bike museum, so the Nazi’s motor bike was retired too, after it had been turned from Evil to Good. Then Tolstoy and the boys were given a helicopter ride home with the icon.

Tolstoy held the Icon of Mary of Popaloffoff aloft and then sunk to his knees in praise. It was decided to put a laser alarm around the icon, the strange thing was though that Tolstoy could walk through the laser without setting it off. Our Lady of Popaloffoff knew he was a friend after all.

There was the sound of thunder, coming down the mountain when she comes, singing ai ai wippy ai ai hey, as she comes. This was 9 months+ later you see Mary-Beth did have breasts for children. She had twins, and every other biker chick had had a child too. Mary-Beth liked to ride a bike, but, well, you know. So Tolstoy baptised all the babies, and Lech, Boris and Gregorgi suddenly had even more Godchildren. They all had new leather jackets too, on the back was the image of Our Lady of Popaloffoff with the Logo “Our Lady of Popaloffoff Angels”

******

this is one of my 10 Lech, Boris and Gregorgi stories
I hope you liked it

Crawling like a Worm in the Dirt

I had a rest on the sofa behind my desk here and this was in my mind so I'm making you all suffer too.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC

• About
• Email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com

Posted bymichaelgcasey04/06/2020Posted inUncategorizedEdit

Crawling Like a Worm in The Dirt, humbled by a photo copier. 

 This is one piece from my www.positivethoughts.com essay/blog postings, I type fast so excuse any mistakes.

 Well this is my 100th post, I had hoped I could think up something nice or even spectacular. This is what I’ve come up with. I’m laughing now as I type. Yesterday 5minutes after I started work I bent down to fill up the copiers. I filled one, then another, then I did a third. I then screamed, I had straightened up too fast and had ricked/strained my back on the right hand side. So these past 27hours have been a lesson in pain and humility. I felt such a fool at work, the girls I work were both sympathetic and funny. Somebody came by for some coloured paper , I bent down to look under our shelf and I was racked with pain, one girl told me to crawl away out of the way so that she could find it instead. I hobbled away, out of the way. The rest of day I moved about like an 80 year old, rather like my own dad. I hoped that on my lunch break while I sat for 30mins in the cathedral my back would be restored. We stand all day in our print as some of you may remember me mention. Prayer and rest for 30mins no doubt aided my soul but not my back. I went back to work and hobbled about for a couple of hours. Then I decided I really had to go home and rest.

Getting home I got off the bus and had to walk only 300yards, a crippled Charlie Chaplin kind of walk, though I look more like Oliver Hardy. I was home 2 hours earlier than normal so the family were surprised.

I told them I was fired as a joke. Then I sat down on an old chair and then I could hardly move. Standing up again was an impossibility. Last Friday we had a drama with my youngest, this Friday,Friday13th it was my turn. My girls all laughed at me, just as I would laugh at them if the tables were reversed. Night came and knew I could never climb the stairs to bed, but at least our bathroom was downstairs. So I tumbled onto our sofa and got ready to spend the night there. Only we have a glass coffee table in front of it and I was afraid of falling off onto it. So at 1am I staggered up the stairs like a drunk with locked joints, then I rolled onto my bed, screaming as I did so. I did sleep, but in the morning I had to slither out like a snake sliding out of bed on my belly. Some positions were possible and some were not. My wife laughed till she cried my youngsters did too, as for me, I laughed and cursed and laughed again. My wife went to see the pharmacy man for advice and a spray for me. The pharmacist laughed too, he’s an old friend. When she got back I was all sprayed up, the old spray and the newly bought one drenching me and my room with the stench of a bad back. I slithered in and out of bed, crawling around as I couldn’t stand up straight. As for getting down stairs that would be an impossiblity. My wife went shopping, stopping first to steal my debit card, laughing she left me in my bed of pain. When she returned she gave me yoguart and orange juice. Later I just had to go downstairs, but I couldn’t walk. I slithered off bed like snake, then made it to my hands and knees, then an inspired idea. I bounced down the stairs one step at a time, on my butt , one step at a time. Then I crawled across our living room and pulled myself up onto a chair. I did notice that we needed a new carpet after 20years our carpet does need replacing. I then rewarded myself by stealing my wife’s pork she’d just made.

Later after some movements like belly dancer of 120 years old, I managed to straighten up. I do walk as if I have a full diaper though. I made it too my big chair in front of my computer. And that’ s how I got to write this 100th post.

The moral of all this? Well I am a very bad patient. Health is the most important thing in our lives. I rejoice that my girls have a good sense of humour, even if I am the butt of it all. Last year when I had food poisoning they had plenty to laugh about then. And I do laugh at that memory. We are all worms crawling in the dirt. It is God’s love that lifts us up, as does our family life. Sometimes it is only though pain and adversity that we learn such truths, sometimes we learn mundane things, but they too have meaning for us, even if its just the fact that we need a new living room carpet.

THIS IS FROM NOV 2008 ACCORDING TO MY LIST

a bit of Humility does us all good, or maybe I need it more. Discuss

ready for my ticket to ride, on a bus

crawling like a worm in the dirt audio

Common Sense

Posted bymichaelgcasey04/06/2020Posted inUncategorizedEditCommon Sense

Common Sense

I know a lot of you will be smiling at the very thought of Me and Common Sense

When I write a lot of comedy/humour

That’s when I’m not following the News, 50 years worth

So here’s some Common Sense

The Stock Market is Gambling

Its Hope, sometimes without Reality

Donald, folks don’t always have shares

Your own “value” has dropped 33% you are only worth 2 billion now

Tell the 40,000,000 Unemployed that stocks are high

It means NOTHING to them, as they don’t have any shares

Though we all share a common Humanity

We all can get Covid 19

We can’t all hide in a bunker or a bubble

We can all get arrested, though for some this is fatal

We can all protest

We can all be brought to our knees by Gas

So a Faker can hold up a book he’s never read

We can be abused by those in power

The Law can be perverted by the powerful

But there is equality before God

And all of us are God’s children

We get to vote out, those we can never never never trust

So have a little patience friends

Sign up for the vote

Make sure you do that

Know the A to Z, of voting

Prepare and be ready

November will come

And just like the Autumn leaves, a Tyrant will Fall

Trump is NO Churchill, and even if he was

Remember this, He was Voted out

And so will you be

For In God we Trust

list of books written by me plus 50 Shades of Me

List of Books Written by Me ©ByMichael Casey

1.The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker2.Shoplife3.Essays and Plays4.Blogs 20115.300 and Not OUT6.Shorts 20137.More Shorts 2014 8.Quick Stories9.Still Alive 201510.Undiscovered Words 201611.Still Smiling 201712.Altogether Now13.New Horizons14.14 Up15.15 Down16.Sweet Sixteen17. 17 Again18. 18 New Views19.The Final Cut of The 19th Hole

I'm working on 2020 Words right now

no new story today, so here's a 5 year old story

when I was even more appealing

50 Shades of Michael ©

By

Michael Casey

I first met Michael at the bus stop, he was back combing his bushy eyebrows in the reflection by the bus time table. Applying a bit of spit on the them as well to hold them down. How could I an impressionable woman resist, it was all too much for me, I started to have palpitations. I had to hold onto the bus stop for support. The eyebrows were just so, so magnificent, he reminded me of a werewolf, so manly, so handsome, how could I resist him.

On the bus I followed him and sat next to him, I was intoxicated by his manly aroma, a mixture of Brut and sweaty socks. I gave him the once over as the bus trundled along the road in the rain. His broad shoulders and his even bigger belly were so overwhelming, I could barely breath, he was irresistible.

My breathing became laboured and heavy, Michael looked at me, with concern in his hazel coloured eyes, the eyes the eyes, he was the man with the child in his eyes. He was too much, I just had to have him. I started to breath more heavily, I was having an asthma attack, brought on by pure lust, how could Michael do this to me.

I reached into my bag for my inhaler, I placed it between my lips, but it was Michael who I wanted and needed, he and he alone could give me what I wanted and needed and MUST have. He asked me was I ok, speaking to me sent my pulse rate soaring. My head spun, he was speaking to me, he was speaking to me, it was all too much. I fainted and my body slumped against his.

I could feel his pulse against mine, Michael whispered in my ear, he asked could he do anything? He asked could he do anything. YES YES YES. Kiss me I whispered, so he did. I was in Heaven, a man a real man was kissing me, a man who wore Brut and had sweaty socks, not to mention the shoulders and the brushed back eyebrows, topped off with the Winnie the Pooh like tummy. I was tingling all over as he kissed me.

We got off the bus together in Old Forge and Singing Anvil, he knew what I wanted and I would not take no for an answer. I gave him my business card Tracy Rogers, lingerie designer. He told me he was a cross dresser and did I make his size, I laughed, he was so funny. He then told me he was a film reviewer for Hungry Wolf a lads magazine.

We went into the Trader for a pint and a natter, I explained my job and he explained his. We felt at ease with each other, as if we had known each other for years. He was everything  I had ever wanted in a man. He said looks did not matter, so long as I could make him laugh, though designer lingerie did help.

It was wanton, I had never picked a man up at a bus stop before, but life was short, my last boyfriend had ran off with the girl from the takeaway. I had never suspected, though he always seemed to get extra rice. So now to find a real man was too much of an opportunity to pass on.

In the bedroom, socks and pants littered the floor, but at least the sheets were John Lewis Egyptian cotton extra soft ones, and they were fresh on that day. Michael had a washing machine and knew how to use it. He also knew how to use what God had given him, and boy oh boy was I glad of that. As for me, he liked what I gave and gave and gave again and again.

Three hours later we stopped for some tea and crumpet, sex had made us hungry, and Michael did have Warburton’s crumpet and PG  tips. So we had crumpet after we had had crumpet, and we share sex tips while we had our PG tips. I glowed and Michael was just Michael.

So we carried on again, it was as if Michael had Duracell batteries in him, long lasting and never fading. As for me, I was glad I had taken a chance at the bus stop, he was an animal, but the kind I wanted and needed and must have. 50 shades of Michael, I had heard there was some obscure film called 50 shades of something or another, but I had 50 shades of Michael which was much much better.

I told Michael I enjoyed all sorts of things in the bedroom, so he smiled and poured a bottle of Guinness  all over my body. I thought it was beer shampoo or something, until he started to lick it off. It was the first time I’d done such  a thing, it was wanton but I loved it, we both loved it.

I told Michael that he was my best lover ever, that we were so wanton, he could do anything he liked to me. As I said we were so wanton he went to the kitchen and made wanton soup, we fed each other soup, and what spilt on our bodies was licked off by us. Prawn crackers were spread over our bodies and we ate from our bodies. So much better than anything from Sex and the City.

We had so many plans, things to do, things to eat, we’d never use plates again. It was prefect, perfect lust, and perfect food. 50 shades of Michael, I was such a lucky girl, such a lucky girl.

Then I woke up it had all been a dream, but why did I smell of Guinness and have prawn crackers in my hair?    

************

Stop Press, God has the last word, he did have the 1st word after all, not Microsoft

Stop Press, God has the last word, he did have the 1st  word after all, not Microsoft

I've haven't slept yet, its 6am now

So I'm up, having toast, letting our who er (Irish pronunciantion) cat back in

now I'll bore you then try sleeping past the Tinnitus

As I said nobody had any honour

Perhaps they read my words

Because folks are starting to speak out

And resign at the very top

Former joint chief of staff

no, nothing about who rolls spliffs

the military guy

and another top brass guy

speak out and resign

so USA  won't turn into a Trump banana republic

It's reassuring

Mad, Stupid and Bad orders should be ignored

The constitution is everything, FINALLY

I read on my Tinnitus time phone

that army support guys are coming to support the airport

So is Trump about to withdraw

RESIGN and Fly away

just like Nixon

I stayed up all night to watch that when I was still in grammar school

So the last word goes to God

He doesn't not like Fakers

here's a Bible which I never read

Here'e the Lord's Prayer which I do not even know

So God has the Last Word

and you only have  one

Resign


*****
or maybe Barron wants to become a Priest.....