MASSIVE FOREHEADS

 

On reflection all he ever really wanted was a big breasted red head with a proper red headed temper and fiery passion, possessing of a cut throat razor and the mind of a gutter? ‘Just my deceased luck’ to be stuck with little Miss Tedium!

A new day dawned. 

“Did you know if we didn’t have eyebrows to prevent sweat dripping into our eyes we’d have evolved massive great foreheads instead to do the same thing?” 

He didn’t know that and frankly couldn’t give a tuppenny toss either yet allowed good ‘keep the peace’ manners to prevail, “Really, how fascinating darling.”

“I’m glad we don’t have massive great foreheads like Neanderthals aren’t you?” 

“On balance ‘yes’ I suppose, but thinking about it your mother scores on both fronts.” 

“That’s cruel!”

At this juncture he shelved his preferred riposte, that being, ‘No it’s a fact’ and returned to his only current real pleasure in life namely that of the sports page of the broadsheet he was reading over breakfast all the time thinking ‘silence is golden’ yet in the full knowledge that more drivel would be shoved his way before his next bite of toast.

“Darling this is interesting…I gather from this magazine that, ‘the motivation for visualized erotic action fires the imagination of the committed voyeur far more than the potential of watching actual copulation’…now that is a very clever thought in my book…she’s a good columnist is this Judy woman…so, so intelligent.”    

‘Why doesn’t she just put a fucking sock in it’, and notwithstanding he didn’t understand a bloody word, “How true. Look I’m off for a bit of a constitutional…stroll in the park I reckon…clear my head of last evening’s cognac…catch you later.”  He just about mustered a judicious peck on her proffered cheek and he was about his business. 

At a park bench beside the lake, not a living soul about save for a passing headphones plugged in, ‘Am I not a magnificent specimen of manhood’ tow path jogger. Nodding a grudging acknowledgement he returned to savouring the joys of staring into blank space, his eyes absorbing the dismal worthlessness of life…took a little time out to wonder if the jogger was gay…fit blokes in good nick are generally gay.   A passing thought. Noting his own belly had an early stages of pregnancy look about it he wondered if it would have been better had he been born gay.

Time now for the homeward trudge. However unbeknownst to him his life was about to change horribly. As he alighted the bench before his very eyes arising eerily through the early morn mist still clinging to the calm waters, in Arthurian Lady of the Lake style, the most stunning creature he had ever beheld appeared.  Once fully surfaced this raven haired ‘she thing’, dressed only in a seemingly see through (well see through on account of it being soaking wet) full white linen frock gracefully trod the waters toward him, indeed seemingly on a mission to attract his attention.

“Jesus its bloody cold down there…imagine it…freezing your tits off for a 100 years with only the odd pike and occasional aging water rat to chat with…some gig I can tell you.”

More than taken aback he politely offered her his Harris Tweed jacket thinking it might warm her up; might protect her modesty.

“You have to be joking, I wouldn’t be seen dead in that…thanks all the same though.”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“Well if I’m not mistaken spring has at last sprung and the breeding season is upon ‘us’…well ‘me’ actually, it’s a once a century thing for my kind so you can only imagine just how much I’m gagging for a bit.”

On hearing these words you could have knocked him down with a feather duster.  Given that at best his conjugal activities were confined to Christmas (if his spouse had taken a sufficiency of Bristol Cream Sherry) or sometimes on his birthday, all of a sudden he took the view that his luck might be in, more so that he was the only living soul about the park insofar as he could tell.

Somewhat hesitantly and with a twinge of embarrassment blended with a pinch of life long brow beaten insecurity he plucked up the courage to ask, “You don’t suppose I could be of assistance in that regard…I mean with your intent to breed?  I’d only be too pleased to help out…you know like a charity really.” 

She looked him up and down conducting a full scan of his very personage, “Honesty being the best policy I have to say that you look to be on the cusp of podgy…out of condition if you like…and I note a few grey hairs…and yes a receding hairline and if I’m not mistaken the hint of a double chin…” 

“Oh.” 

“Don’t interrupt I’m not finished yet…but given that needs must when the devil drives I hold the view that I have little choice in the matter. I mean I would have preferred a police type line up…you know an identity parade of gorgeous hunks sort of thing to choose from but yes you will have to do…I only hope your performance outshines your distinctly inadequate appearance.” 

“Nothing like building a chaps confidence up then!” 

In the near distance a rhythmic pounding could be heard. Both he and she looked to where said pounding had emanated from and there en route to pass by on his second lap of the lake was none other than ‘‘Am I not a magnificent specimen of manhood’ tow path jogger man.  At the sight this alternative and rather attractive male, latter day Lady of the Lake positively drooled with carnal delight, whereas our hero’s heart sank.

“I think you’ll find that chap…good looking as he is…is most probably gay and thus not the red blooded heterosexual man you seek.” 

“Oh I feel sure we can find some common ground…bet your life I’ll give it my best shot…catch up with you in a 100 years’ time if you’re still about!” 

Well that was the end of that. A chance of a lifetime down the pan…he considered popping into Sports Direct on his way back for some jogging trainers yet dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it had formed.  Arriving home more than a little forlorn he found his wife embroidering napkins whilst listening to a cassette tape of Bing Crosby classics.