Loopy Street GRAHAM VIVIAN LANCASTER
For Murray.
L TRAYBERRY PRESS
ALEXANDER HOUSE Incorporating
TRAYBERRY PRESS 29 Howick Road Pietermaritzburg 0836388813 Copyright 2013 Graham Vivian Lancaster Copyright 2013 in this published edition ALEXANDER HOUSE All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder and publisher. First published 2013
ISBN: 978-0-9870146-7-2
Cover design: G.V. Lancaster, Emile Rampaul Cover photograph: G.V. Lancaster Joseph Damakude
Distributed by Trayberry Book Distributors. Cell: 0836388813 Tel: 033 - 3427978
WORKS BY THE AUTHOR: NOVELS:
Wind Song Storm Song Strength Of ten The Devil’s Own
SELF HELP:
Everyone Can Do It Its Never Too Late Surviving The Ladder The Cost Of Money Who’s Shrinking Your Money? The Happy Customer
POETRY:
Marks On My Soul Gypsey Whale Song Gravel Roads Fledgeling African Ride Moments of Truth Picaroon Journeys That Kind Of Feeling Rusty Gates Poetry Study Guide
HUMOUR:
Bert and Co. Bert Another Story Nothing For Mahala Smoke Screens Loopy Street
ADVENTURE SERIES: Wild and Dangerous + Study Guide Secrets of the Sea Cyclone Tracy Wrath Of The Gods Dangerous Alliances When The Earth Thunders + Study Guide Awakening Africa Flying With Eagles Over The Edge + Study Guide ******************* The Adventurous Life Of Rory Flint Rat To Riches + Study Guide Dock Town Mayor and Mayoress Dock Town Upside Down Sibanda Of The Zambezi River Courage And Secrets
INDEX CHOICES WAR STORIES HOSTESS WHITE KRISMIS BOTANY BOTHMA PETRONELLA JUMPING SHIP FLIGHT OF THE BUMBLE BEE TSUNAMI DOWN PIPE HIS BIG SEVEN CHASTE AND HUBBARD HOUDINI PASSING TIME A SECRET AFFAIR SACRED COW N1 EXPRESS AUNTIE BY HOSPITAL THE RIGHT ADDRESS BREWMASTER MR. INFLATION COOL DUDE A FUNNY KIND OF DAY
CHOICES Sampie February and Reginald Platneus Adonis were sitting on the stone wall outside Sampie’s house drinking moer coffee and watching the early morning traffic when Skeeloog Adonis happened along. “Hello Uncle Reginald,” the young man smiled and shook hands. “Good morning, how are you today, Nephew?” Reginald said with a kind smile and Sampie nodded. “This is my very good friend, Sampie February,” Reginald’s one arm swept expansively and stopped with a sudden bump on Sampie’s chest, which almost knocked him off the wall. “Hello Uncle,” Skeeloog shook hands. “Hello – Skeeee – Mr. Adonis,” Sampie said awkwardly. “Ag nay Uncle, Skeeloog is mos ok to call me by,” he smiled pleasantly. “Nay, the life it goes on, Uncle,” he grinned lopsidedly. “But you looking just fine, Nephew,” Plaatneus said and Sampie almost choked on a mouthful of coffee as he looked at the damaged eye. “Anyway, I must be away to work,” Skeeloog shook hands with the men and walked on. “Ay, yaii, yaii!” Reginald shook his head sadly as they watched him walking away, proud, smart and upright with his navy crew cut “That boy is a fine upstanding example to the youth of today, although his hair is a bit bright,” Sampie nodded appreciatively. “Ya, Samps he was doing so well and was climbing up the ladder. He is freshly medically boarded from the navy after a computerised Bofors anti-aircraft gun had a runaway and he was wounded in the head. He was been lucky to be alive because others was killed.” “Haai, Reginal what are you telling me now?”
1
“Tseker ja, ou Samps. A real tragedy. So now he is on a good pension but he doesn’t want to sit at home so he found a works there by ou Hardegat Harmse, there by his snoek facory. Just doing something simple, no machinery or anything like that because sometimes he gets bad headaches when he gets a moon click and goes a bit faulty,” Reginald tapped his head with one finger. “Well, that’s very nice of ou Hardegat, giving he a job.” “Ja, maar ou Hardegat he doesn’t treat him right. “Why?” Sampie’s hackles rose at the mention of Hardegat. “One day I comes there and Skeeloog he is stinking of vis and there is stuff running down over his head, man, dripping by his shirt!” he shuddered. “He falled into something?” “Nay, ol Hardegat he gives he a job there coating the snoeks after they are cleaned and laid out flat. Now Skeeloog he must paint they with garlic butter and lemon juice and apricot jam and black pepper marinade, ready for the braai, jy weet?” “Ja I knows them, ‘Braai Or Fry Maknisaki Harmse Hot Coals Snoeks.’ Apparently Scarlet gave them thet name about twenty years ago because it doesn’t matter how he catches them, just as long as he catches them,” Sampie said leaning forward to catch all of the story, “Jawellnofine and may be she did because that’s the way it was with she that time,” Reginald said, looking away down the street as Sampie tried to see his expression, ”But anyways. Hardegat choons he to paint the snoeks with marinade but all he can find are a nail brush and a toilet brush and he choons ou Hardegat what he must do because none of the two is appropriate?” “And then?” “Hardegat choons he, you must have initiative for this job, you choose! Use your head man!” Reginald said in exasperation. “Juslaik!” “Seker ja and old Hardegat can go off too like a set of wind up teeth jabbering across the desk.” “Ja but he always had a lot to say for himself,” Sampie said.
2
“It’s true but now Skeeloog knows he gonna be fired if he can’t do the job so he takes the initiative, so to speak and uses his head in a moment when he gets a moon click. He dips his navy brush cut in the marinade but he gets a headache working upside down so he stands up holding the fish open with both hands and rubs the snoeks on his head. This ways, that ways into every private place he brushed the marinade but ou Hardegat don’t know anything of this because he is not often there.” “Ag nay shame man!” Sampie exclaimed. “And then later when the lemon juice bleached his hair so bad ou Hardegat choons he, “What’s the matter with your hair, man? I saw hippies and funny things like that on the tube in London!”
3
WAR STORIES They met on Facebook through friends suggesting they might know each other, found they lived in the same town and agreed to meet for drinks at the restaurant that Friday after work. They wouldn’t have known each other had they bumped into one another in the street, but now realized they shopped at the same supermarket and had spoken to each other in passing, perhaps drawn by the old uniform of Bata veldschoens without socks. “Man, you haven’t changed a bit in thirty years!” John said magnanimously. “You are right, it’s been a long time since the war,” Pete smiled indulgently knowing it was a lie. The Castle Lagers they ordered soon invited their siblings to the party, along with a basket of snacks and the two men were loosening up and reminiscing. “Do you remember that guy in the army with us - red hair and freckles?” “Hair like red stoep polish and freckles like corn flakes in a wind storm, he looked like Ronald Macdonald with a red bee sting nose when he’d had too much Ouzo and cream soda?” “That’s him.” “They called him ‘Fanta,’ sometimes.” “Because of his red hair?” “Yes but that was in the army when he was still thin and fast,” John nodded. “And now?” “Because of his big guts. Like fanta-veel vreet en te min --you know.” “Yes, I know.” “But mainly they called him ‘Fruit Cake’ - -”
4
“Because - -” Pete asked suspiciously. “Na! Because of all his freckles. One day he was getting on all of our nerves, chirping and playing the only record in camp over and over and over again when we were trying to rest after some strenuous time in the bush and you don’t go past the point of no return with those guys - -” “But he was one of them?” “Yes he was, but full of the devil on that day: The Best Of Dobie Gray – Loving Arms. He was playing that dreary song and singing with it in an irritating way and everyone knew it off by heart anyway because that and the record player were the only things that survived the ambush. Bits and pieces of vinyl all over the place, but Dobie Gray must have been standing on edge because all the bullets missed him. So they captured Dobie Grey and the record player.” John pursed his lips, pondering a cocktail samoosa, decided against it and continued, “Fruit Cake was serenading them with one hand on his chest, the other arm outstretched while the guys were trying to write letters back home and they were getting pretty full up of him. He was warned about six times but he was on a suicide mission. The Corporal didn’t say a word, just got up quietly and took a walk to the ops room – came back with a fist full of ball point pens. He gave the order and everyone pounced on Fruit Cake before he could run away. Dust was flying everywhere like a zebra taking a dust bath as he struggled, kicking, biting and hitting.” John rubbed his right shin sub-consciously. “But they grabbed him, held him down and ripped off his shirt. Everyone grabbed a ball point pen and played join the dots with those big ginger freckles while Fruit Cake jerked and screamed blue murder and turned red and threatened vile things if he ever got loose. Then they told him if he didn’t shut up they would take his pants off and make an elephant and he went pretty quiet.” With a satisfied smile, John took a long draught of beer,
5
“They raided Fruit Cake’s wallet and there was enough money for a case of beer for first prize. Okkie Basson won it because he joined up the best giraffe.”
6