A Hairy Tale of Humiliation

Yesterday I met my lovely friend L for coffee in town.

We spent a little time putting the world to rights, discussing her recent holiday, her MIL's sad decline into Alzheimer's, wondering why the waitress who served us had a large, perfectly round patch of what looked like clotted cream on her face (but fearing to ask).

Then we popped into Boots to do our weekly  occasional weigh in (I don't have a pair of scales at home for fear of becoming obsessed).  L had understandably put on a couple of pounds during her holiday, nothing significant considering she had apparently spent the whole time away eating ice cream.  I had lost a couple of pounds, a worrying tendency I have that isn't as great as you might think it would be.  I am trying to educate my doctor into NOT referring to me as tall and thin with no joy so far.

Anyway, after a brief wander around town to buy exciting stuff like cotton balls (obviously NOT for me bearing in mind my phobia:) and a foray into WH Smiths who inconceivably did not have a copy of My Family and other Animals which I needed for a writing prompt.

Waterstones obliged however and, being mean (and knowing it's in the damn house somewhere) I refused to fork out for another copy so I shuffled around the shop, book in hand, trying not to look suspicious while I copied the first paragraph onto my phone and emailed it to myself.

L offered me a lift home (possibly swayed by the knowledge that I had made a cake that morning).

As we approached her car in the multistory I noticed something a little odd about it.

L, your car appears to have grown a TAIL!!!

Sure enough, protruding from the exhaust pipe was something long, black and hairy ......

'OMFG BORIS!!!!'  yelled L.

'I must have sucked him up this morning when I left home'.

Now Boris is L's monster cat, weighing in at slightly more that my dog.  There was NO WAY she could have sucked that Mother Fucker up there and anyway, I know I'm a little dense in the ways of the motor car but don't exhausts blow, not suck???

L was on her hands and knees pulling at this stuff which seemed endless, crooning, it's ok Boris, I'm here, you'll be ok.

OK,???  Depends on how you define ok I guess.  If you like your Boris black and crunchy then yep, Boris was just dandy!

After a few minutes and after amassing quite a substancial pile of 'Boris' we decided the best option was to trim him with a pair of nail scissors and get the hell out of there before trying to reconstruct him.

L laid Boris reverently on the back seat of the car and we drove slowly and carefully to the closest garage.

Gathering Boris gently in her arms L approached the nearest mechanic trying to remain composed her face tear stained and covered in snot.

As she tearfully explained what had happened a look of total increduality swept across his face and he started to make strange choking noises, snorting and pointing at the black hairy bundle.

It was quite touching really, obviously another cat lover although this did seem to be taking it to the extreem and maybe lacked a certain level of professionalism.

After regaining his composure he called over his fellow mechanics and asked L to repeat her story.

Soon we were surrounded by a host of oily mechanics snorting and choking, tears rolling down their faces pointing at poor deceased Boris ..............



Ummm, obviously it turned out to be the packing from the silencer.

Yep, I SO knew that!