Intimations of Mortality

It was ten o'clock in the morning. Sweezus was still in bed. He'd woken up early, with a toothache. Then he'd gone back to sleep, and woken up half an hour later. He'd turned on the radio. Someone was reading a poem. 'A man's a man for a' that'.  

Pffuh!! thought Sweezus. He turned off the radio, and picked up a book.

The phone rang.

Hello, said Sweezus. Who is it?

Me, said Marie. Marie.

Marie! said Sweezus. Brilliant. What's up?

Well, said Marie, it's nearly Easter....

Tell me about it, said Sweezus. No, don't.....

We know you don't like it, said Marie.

Don't like it! said Sweezus. That's an understatement. My inbox is full of freakin' e-cards already!

That's nice, said Marie. At least your friends are thinking about you.

If you could see, said Sweezus, the sort of thing I have to deal with. Last night I got one with a picture of feet, disembodied feet, my feet, dancing in the air above the ground.

How did you know they were your feet? asked Marie.

I knew, said Sweezus darkly.

Oh I see, said Marie. And was there  a message?

Happy Easter, said Sweezus. And a musical theme.

What theme did they choose? asked Marie. Something old-fashioned?

The Bunny Hop polka, said Sweezus.

Marie made a choking sound.

You okay? asked Sweezus.

Yes, said Marie, recovering. You have to admit that's quite funny.

There was a silence, and then Sweezus said, Yeah it is. I must be losing it. I've got this toothache...

Go and see a dentist, said Marie.

Can't, said Sweezus. Not till after Easter.

What are you up to today then? said Marie.

Staying in bed with a book, said Sweezus.

What's the book? asked Marie.

Waiting for Godot, said Sweezus.

Come out with us, said Marie. Me and Belle.

Okay said Sweezus. I will.


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