Short stories from Birmingham readers in 162 countries so far
HEAR ME READ ALOUD
207 stories written & read by me
https://profile.typepad.com/michaelgcasey
https://michaelgcasey.typepad.com/blog/
*****
I wrote this maybe 10/11 years ago with my big daughter squeezed
into my Star Trek style chair I had back then. Maybe I should write a
Science Fiction piece, now there's an idea when the pain abates
and this is where I'd like to live if I were rich, any rich people out there?
Buy it and I'll be your unwelcome guest, ha ha ha
The Pope was cursing, he had had enough, those Heathens were just that Heathens. He just wanted a quiet life, all alone with his Rosary, maybe it was Divine Inspiration, or maybe God was playing a trick, it couldn’t be a dream it was more like a living nightmare. But this is what happened.
Donald Trump said he’d resign immediately if Putin did too, he did have his fingers crossed behind his back, and Fox did show his fingers. Francis, Pope Francis was watching the BBC, for the sake of his sanity, when he heard Donald Trump make yet another lie. Francis looked up at the Cross on the wall, Lord if Trump and Putin both resigned now that might be a good thing. But it’s more likely that I resign too, and what would the 3 of us do then, form a Rock Band like in the Blues Brothers.
Francis liked that film, especially when the Nun hits the boys with a ruler for swearing. Francis smiled, Rahm Emanuel is leaving Chicago soon, perhaps he should be our manager. There is always a Jewish manager in pop bands, Francis smiled again.
Now God works in mysterious ways, and as he was tending to a junkie who had just entered the Gates of Heaven, washing his feet and kissing his track marks and then putting his a white suit like a 60s band member, well God thought it would be a bit of fun. So a dream, the same dream entered Putin’s and Trump’s mind. The next day simultaneously they invited the other to Birmingham England, God loved the surreal so it just had to be Birmingham. The Press corps thought Trump was on drugs, but as they laughed, and Jon Sopal led the chorus of REALLY? The news came in that Putin had just made the same comments. In actual fact, when they checked the announcement had been made simultaneously.
Was Putin on drugs too, was there Collusion? Trump winged it, I had a dream last night, much better than what’s his name’s dream, yes Queen, I mean King. In the dream it said meet Putin in Birmingham. Barron my son said he’s like to look at the Pre-Raphaelites, whatever they are. He wants to meet Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades too, he’s in Birmingham. Though it’s more likely the Secret Service will just shave his head and make a wig for that loser, Jeff Bezo, that’ll teach him and his failing Washington Post.
I like that idea myself, but Jeff’s wig would be no match for my mane. And that’ll teach Casey to respect THE PRESIDENT, Trump reached for his phone to tweet that bit. The entire Press Corps reached for their phones to read what he had just Twittered. Jon Sopal ran from the room laughing and in search of a fresh pair of trousers, he’d just pissed himself laughing. There was a rush for the men’s room, Trump was left alone rambling.
In Russia Putin said he had had a dream too, he was naked and riding a horse through woods, the trees swayed and turned into displays of watches hanging from every tree branch. It was a metaphor to remind him that as great as he looked on his horse one day his time would be up. Just as Autumn leaves fell, as the watches started to drop off Putin realised he only had so much time, his secret heart problem would in the end kill him. So he would meet Trump in Birmingham, he knew what Pre-Raphaelites were and he’d enjoy looking at them. He might even bring an Easter egg to the museum, a jewelled one. He’d get to taste Cadburys chocolate eggs too, what more could any Russian want?
The Pope was asked was this Divine Intervention, he just joked was that some American singer. But in his heart Francis knew what he had to do. He must go to Birmingham and jump out of a Confessional and persuade the two of them to resign immediately. Maybe then the world would stand a chance, he would trick them by saying, if you both resign I’ll resign too, and we can form a Rock Band. He’d had a phone call from Theresa May the night before, after she’d stopped swearing he said maybe she could resign and become a lead singer in a rock band. She laughed, if you get Putin and Trump to do it, then I’ll do it. Francis got her to say it 3 times and he recorded it, Nixon learnt everything he knew about taping from his old priest after all. All Francis had to do was to sneak into Birmingham cathedral, and then pounce, he’d record everything with his bodycam and then upload it to the Web. Then both Trump and Putin would have to resign. And to keep his bargain with God so would he, and Theresa May could be the lead singer. In Paradise the junkie laughed till he cried, am I still on drugs Lord? Yes, it’s called God’s Love, the only drug worth having.
Francis had a problem, he couldn’t get a flight to Birmingham, everything was booked, all the world was coming to Birmingham. Luckily he had a friend with a balloon, Richard Branson was his name. Richard explained his balloon would not be fast enough, but he had a friend called Musk or something. Now this friend loved rockets, so if they strapped a rocket to the basket then they’d get there much faster than 80 days. Francis gave Musk some scented candles as a thank you.
Richard flew the balloon at night, and landed at the Oratory, Benedict had asked Francis to return a book of Newman’s he’d borrowed.At the Oratory Francis would catch a black taxi driven by Nanjit Tanjit, who Nanjit Tanjit, he’s a character in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, you’ll have to do some research. And then under cover of darkness Francis would sneak into Birmingham’s Saint Phillips’ cathedral. In the morning Trump and Putin would light a candle for Peace.
There were no confessionals in Saint Phillips as it was an Anglican cathedral, very small but very nice. This writer used to hide in there during his lunch break for 3 years, the Verger who looks like Jeff Bezo thought I was Holy, I was just sitting down, away from the heat of the Print Room at Pinsent Masons law firm. Francis just hid for teh night in something just as small as the Confessional, the toilet at the back of the church behind the double doors.
In the morning Francis all in crumbled white readied himself. The Secret Service and the FSB had checked the cathedral, so Trump and Putin were all alone, just a remote camera showing live pictures only. Francis had written “out of order” on a piece of paper so nobody had bothered to check the toilet. As they postured for the cameras Trump and Putin spoke. Well NO COLUSION, smiled Trump, yea but I still want the Presidential Suite as soon as your tower in built in Saint Petersburg. Deal done smiled Trump and they shook hands. The candles were lit and they bowed their heads. Don Camillo would have given both of them an almighty kick up the arse. Saint Petersburg, they had changed the city, the heir to Saint Peter was angry.
Francis jumped out and grabbed a lit candle, the pair of presidents, which is a metaphor, jumped back. We thought we saw a Ghost they exclaimed. The Holy Ghost sent me, now you both have to resign immediately and join a Rock Band, the pair of presidents, still a metaphor laughed. If Theresa May is lead singer and flashes her legs then we’ll do it. Ok we will they both joked like a pair a presidents, even more a metaphor. Francis paused, if you 2 resign then I will too, so long as Theresa May joins the band? YES YES YES they said simultaneously. Francis was uploading this to the Holy Friar website, in second the whole world heard the news. Then he played the tape of Theresa May, including the bit where she was swearing like a trooper.
And that is how the Golden Politicians were born. Francis too resigned on the spot. He wasn’t going to flat share the Vatican with Benedict and his piano. He was hitting the road Jack and he wouldn’t look back. In Parliament Mrs May punched the Speaker, which many had thought would happen, but Mr Bercow just smiled, our views may be at variance, but to forgive is divine, so I forgive. Mrs May had come to her senses by now so she French Kissed the life out of him by way of apology. The kiss lasted a full nine minutes, they say being Speaker is a dangerous occupation, but now History would say otherwise.
If you have wondered why Mr May always looks so happy and slightly bewildered behind his Biggles’ glasses well the Speaker can explain things for you. With a parting Vsign to her own back benchers Mrs May left the chamber, now the Speaker looked happy and very very bewildered behind his disordered papers. He had to order a pint of Stella Artois be brought to the Chamber to revive him.
The new band members met in an upper room, the old Waterworks Jazz club venue. They had a pint of Stella Artois each, though Pope Francis has a glass of wine too. Donald said he did not drink, but when Theresa gave him the eye he was putty in her hands. So Donald had 17 pints of Stella Artois and a packet of cheese and onion crisps. His lifetime thirst was over. Stan the caretaker tapped another barrel. Then then the new band moved to the Bell and Pump room to rehearse. Theresa now liberated was the leader of the pack, and dressed all in skin tight leather she now felt so so liberated.
They rehearsed all the ABBA back list, it was the one thing they all knew. Francis was a great base guitarist, and Putin just liked to stand at the keyboards, he was great, but Classical was more his forte,but everybody just loves ABBA. Put what about Donald? Well he put on a kilt and no knickers, and reached for a guitar. He knew that girls loved to sleep with rock musicians, so he had secretly learnt how to play. The servants had assumed the noise in the attic was his kids, but no, it was the Donald. He’d paid Mick and Keith a lot of money to come and teach him back in the 1970s. And he’d been practising for decades. Property he knew, but strutting with a guitar he was even better at, but nobody knew. Except a few ladies who’d signed non disclosure agreements.
So they played, while Rahm Emanuel their new manager made calls as only a Chicago mayor or former mayor can. He’d left Chicago safe in the hands of a Black Lesbian Mayor, now Rahm Emanuel would face his biggest test. Getting the biggest paying concert ever on the road. The Stones were delayed so while Mick stopped prancing they could step in and seize their stage. Two Presidents, a Pope and a Prime Minister. What a line up, Rahm Emanuel decided to call them The Four Golden Peas. He rung Esther his dear friend and asked could she arrange security and the finances once he funnel them to her. Security was easy her son made military satellites, and knew many tough guys.
The money side of things was kind of not legit, you see all the money would be going to Charity. The first charity being Médecins Sans Frontières, MSF or Doctors without Borders. Those bastards, the politicians had started more wars between them so they should give back something.
So Médecins Sans Frontières, would be first. Rahm had set himself a target, One Billion US Dollars. And to help things along, Fr.Dan was going to hear Confession with El Chapo and when he finished every cent he had stashed away would be going to Charity, real Charity not his favourite hooker called Charity.
Fr. Dan knew how to hear Confession, he would beat the ____ out of El Chapo while they were along in his cell. Then he would use Voodoo and put the fear of God into El Chapo, finishing with the words, God Doesn’t Love You Any More. This would break any man in 30 mins tops. Screaming for mercy El Chapo would reveal all. Then Esther would use her Russian Money Laundering Connections to launder the money, and it would end up sparkling clean in each Charity’s bank account. Besides with Putin in the band, no questions would be asked.
Rahm Emanuel smiled, he should have been in the real Blues Brothers but he was just too busy, though he did do one day’s work on the film. It was Rahm Emanuel who drove the car at the Neo Nazi Bastards, so they had to jump for their lives. Not a lot of people known this, Rahm is modest about his film driving career.
The first gig arrived. It would be at Birmingham’s NEC Arena, the one that looks like Spider landed. Rahm Emanuel smiled, Fr Dan had IMed Chapo had talked, in fact he sung like a canary, when a multi black belt Jesuit asks you a question then you answer. Fr.Dan had used Voodoo too, Chapo had peed himself in under a minute. The guards were watching the Concert live in their rest room, so Fr.Dan was left in peace to hear Confession.Rahm was too busy to count the zeros, it was 15,000,000,000 USD.
Esther smiled, her dear friend Mrs Murphy would be so happy, but now she was busy moving the money. In and out of Government’s own bank accounts as well, to make it all sparkling clean. Esther has her list of Charities and smiling she went about her work. Meanwhile Artist Differences had reared their ugly head. Theresa decided to let it all hang out. So she stripped naked and demanded they all did the same. Stripped back music, was different, maybe kissing Bercow had confused her. Give me your tie Donald. So Theresa wrapped his red tie down below. She was like Cher with her modesty half covered but with her behind hanging out. Then she grabbed Donald’s lapel badge to cover her left nipple and Rahm gave her his badge for the right nipple.
Glitter me she commanded, and then she was spray painted in glitter,the perfect Glam Rock look. The Pope stayed clothed in white, but he wore silver high heels. Donald and Putin were sprayed in glitter, Donald lost his trousers but put a kilt back on. Putin just put some very tight shorts on to highlight his accomplishments, of course he was bar chested too.
With that Francis started to play, And The Winner Takes it All, and Theresa May strode out and hit the stage. Overwhelming Applause. She did grab her husband and give him the kind of kiss you’d get arrested for if you did it in public. They lashed the crowd with ABBA hits, and everybody was amazed and Donald Trump showed the world his class and more as he spun around in his kilt, knickerlass to the world. Putin stopped the show with his piano playing, he inserted a few Russian classics.There were no flies on him, and certainly no shirt required, he played his heart out. On the top of the keyboard were Cadburys cream eggs which he scoffed as the show went on.
Francis disappeared in smoke, like holy orders gone mad, but his Bass was unbelievable. Back home Benedict was a little jealous, he was stuck in the Vatican and soon they’d be a 3rd Pope. When they ran out of Abba songs Putin to sing, Russian traditional songs about combine harvesters and wheat yield. But he knew nobody would understand, so he cried as he sung and as the others jammed around. It was an absolute hit, everybody in the audience was crying. Esther was laughing all the way to the bank. 40,000,000,000 USD had been stolen from locked up drugs barrons, as Fr. Dan had toured the jails. Many many charities had benefited. Even Spangle Shoes for Prisoners would get 10,000USD.
What more can I say. Theresa May was a Rock Chic, she wiggled and sung with all her heart. She was free from all those BASTARDS, now she could give her husband everything she had. Her husband rung Beds4Politicians and ordered a new divan set, he knew he’d be needing it. Covered in Sweat and Naked before the Audience, was the title of the Live Triple Album, Rahm certainly knew a good title. That made 100,000,000 USD for Charity. The true figures were never released to the Public nor to Governments, Esther and Rahm didn’t want too many nosey parkers into their business. They’d give the finger to those kind of people.
At the end of the concert Rahm gave each member of the band a crisp dollar bill. After expenses this is what you get. A dollar each, the Pope looked at the reverse. IN GOD WE TRUST. Pope Francis cried, he cried like a baby. Then he woke up, it had all been a dream. But when he woke up under his pillow was a fresh dollar bill with Love Rahm written on it.
Theresa May woke up her new divan set, Beds4Politicians, was broken, her husband was gently smouldering, tea and crumpet for breakfast dear. I’ve had the strangest of dreams she began sitting up in bed, a crisp dollar bill with Love Rahm was under her pillow, and why had she got USA flags stuck to her nipples. And what was irritating her down below, she pulled out a red tie, her husband never wore red.
What of Trump and Putin? They awoke in The Plough and Harrow, they were in bed together, naked with each clasping a dollar bill signed by Rahm Emanuel. Now am I making this all up, or is this a Dream within a Dream. Donald did say at the beginning that he had a dream better than a Queens…..
Well we
just put out the rubbish into the outside dustbin, andas I sat waiting for the kettle to boil I
wondered what to write about, and that’s why you are getting this, waiting for the
kettle to boil, see I’ll write about any rubbish, but I don’t write rubbish, I’ll
pause while the cat chokes on the floor besides me. As the kettle boiled I thought
a few thoughts about kettles and water, and a watched kettle never boiling. So
now I’m back sat in front of the computer I’ll put them together as Annie Lenox
sings from Peace, and feeling 17 again.
A kettle
has first to be filled with water, or fresh water first thing in the morning as
my dad used to say. My mother’s house had a well right beside it back in Cromane
Lower, both the house and the well are no more now, but I do have photos.
Everything does start with water after all, Life itself. It’s the pond of life,
that is disturbed and ripples till new life is born.
Life is
cold, it has to be nurtured, to be warmed up with love, it has to have it’s
temperature risen, like in the Elvis song. So as the kettle gets hotter, on the
crane over the fire, the family awakes. Dad’s house had a 10 feet wide fireplace,
you could even sit inside it, beside the fire, the crane hanging there with a truly
enormous kettle. There were 10 kids plus mum and dad in 1920s Ireland, just
Morris and his wife now, and the 60 acres and the cattle. Yes really, that’s why
I belong to a Clan.
As the
kettle boils the cups are lined up and the large tea pot is got ready, though
it was always coffee for me, my eldest brother bringing it home from grammar school
57 years ago maybe. That’s why I drink instant coffee, Kenco.
The big
cast-iron frying pan got ready too, ready for the feeding of the five thousand
before we go off to school. And on it goes through the years, the kettle might
change but the ritual remains. The celebrants change too as we children grow
and leave home, and come back again, depending on financial circumstances. Putting
the kettle on for the washing up aswe
have cake and tea on a Sunday, me and my brother being forced out to serve at Benediction,
missing our Sunday tv. So, we learn to power walk home, just in time for the
Clangers, the original inhabitants of the Moon.
Life
itself comes to the boil as we get jobs and change jobs, or are abused by some
employers. Rest and reward, and a reassuring cup of tea, as dad shaves in the kitchen
because the upstairs bathroom is so cold. Don’t worry, and it was on his Birthday
that your employer relegated you to the dole queue. Many cups of tea, or my
coffee you end up with a job for life. Market Research into Alcohol sales, and you
living in the shadow of a brewery, and with many an alcoholic lodger. God does
have a sense of humour, and mum always had a saying and a prayer for every
occasion, she should be Jewish not Catholic, but Love of God is universal.
The
kettle continues to boil and you have steady work, though tons of shifts and
nights. Dad did nights, but a kindly G.P. got him out of them, but I did 14
years worth. It does build a bond between us, he sweated in a steel works, I
worked all the hours under the sun. Radio Four being my 20 year education, and
maybe salvation. And on the kettle boils.
Water is
for sharing, as is alcohol, and I saw much of that during my decades with Market
Research into Alcohol Sales, StatsMR where are you all now? You get your own
home, as dad encouraged us to stay at home, until we got our own homes, we give
money to a stranger, and what was a bit of food, and the kettle was always
always boiling at home. And I’ve started to cry now as I talk to you, you just
cannot imagine mum’s and dad’s strength, and love. That’s why I could not bring
myself to put dad in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker. However, he was
in me, just as I am in my own children, his love appeared in the character Big Sid
the Butcher. I only realised after I finished, who was this big man with such
love in him, I had written my own father. So, if ever I finish Tears for Butcher,
Big Sid will be there waiting for me, just as my own father did, staying up
late just to see me before he went to bed.
And the
kettle boils on, and tears appear again, he is no longer here, but I am who I
am because of him, and my mother. Thousands of cups of tea, and my coffee,
meals and laughter and pain, all shared, and sacrificed. I could go on but it
would overwhelm me right now, but there’s always another day, and as dad always
said When God made Time he made Plenty of It. And as you remember yesterday mum always said,
With the Help of God and Two Policemen, and perhaps maybe a cup of tea, the
kettle is boiled now.
Now with
the Help of God and two Policemen was a phrase my mother used to use, I’m
smiling now as I talk to you, the love, the memory bubbles up. We’d want or
need something and mum would say please God with the help of God and two
Policemen we’d get it. So, what do you say? Do you have a chant or a prayer?
There are 9 day Novenas that never fail, there’s one in The Butcher The Baker
and The Undertaker, Mrs Murphy starts one when things are dire. Mrs Murphy is
based on my mum and her 3 sisters, so it’s a power of 4 kind of mum, which may
equal one Chinese mum, if you have Chinese family you know I’m right. I’ve
finished a Novena to saint Jude today, so maybe all I need are the 2 Policemen
and hey Presto. I’ll let you know if the Hey Presto arrives.
Why do
we pray, is it habit or desperation? I’m assuming my readers are a very mixed
bunch from all over the world. So, do you only pray when you think you’ve got
you girlfriend pregnant? And joy eternal when she is not? Or the other way
around, you get a phone call with the news while you are at work on the evening
shift in the computer room. I cried, I was just so happy, my English colleagues
were embarrassed, but I was so very very happy. Having a wife and family was
all I ever wanted, so my mother in Heaven must have rounded up two stray
Policemen, Conan and Doyle.
We curse
when things go wrong and call God a bastard, maybe the very same thought that
went through Saint Joseph’s mind, we scream and shout or kick a chair, why me,
it’s not fair are words I can remember when things went wrong at work. But a
hope, a wish, a desire, if we think we are lucky, is expressed by prayer and
cursing, either or, or both. The need for divine intervention or inspiration,
is always there, especially when on a losing streak. Liverpool fans must have
prayed so hard, now after a 30 year drought they have won the Premiership in
football.
******
to be continued or not
the thing about pain is that if you over use pain killers
you become a junkie
so to save my brain I take the pain
so to speak
also with my kidneys. GPR 29
I cannot just pop pills for all my ills
I spotted Saudi reading my stuff over on Wordpress
so thanks to them
300 and not OUT is online in Arabic and very family orientated
my earlier stuff is my family stuss as my daughters were growing then
now they are late teenagers and I'm don't share their images
