The Crazy Saga of Aunt Alice and Spot.

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(Top secret establishment called GCHQ, or…The Doughnut)

The adventures of Aunt Alice and Spot. 

Recently rudely interrupted by the usurper to the Crown of Wales, one Brenda Gobstopper, landlady of the public house The Castle Harlech.

Written by Renee Bernard, Vonda Norwood and Danny Kemp. All mention to Tracey Edges is permitted by the BBC. (The Besieged Bride Collaboration)

***

Dear all suffering souls,

It’s a tangle, dear reader.  All of it.  And if you have any sense of self-preservation, you’ll head over to the society pages of the Times or open a good book.  Yes, I highly recommend a good book!

Aunt Alice

***

Dearest Auntie,

Why do you presume that no one likes watching socks dry? I do. If you can remember I did so when camping with the Boys Brigade the first time I visited that leek infested country of Brenda’s; Wales. My socks were saturated after that Australian basket ball team, The Sheila’s, dumped me in the river. They steamed beautifully beside the blaze, and I managed not to set fire to them! Such memories of that place, especially the prunes! I almost forgot Lovely Lionel. Would never had met him without that exploding bonfire. You see, Auntie, watching drying socks can be glorious fun!

I am so sorry that you felt obliged to decline the invitation to the country party because of Mr. Topper. If you give me his address I could deliver some tins of said prunes and somehow disguise them, forcing him to eat the devilish things. That should sort him out…..Oh, Spot’s in a humorous mood.

Auntie, you must not feel depressed with your situation as I’m totally sure that Sherry has your best interests at heart. I can assure you, I also do. If it seems as though I ignore your wants and desires then I most humbly apologise. Would it please you if I were to travel to Peking and acquire a Pekinese for you? Would I need to speak Mandarin, Cantonese, or Xiang? Just say the word and I’m sure my beloved Tracey can educate me in the appropriate language, she is so clever at everything. I am so looking forward to her tutoring methods! (Oh, am I just!)

Did I tell you that she paints? Perhaps it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that she could paint your portrait one day, as well as painting the outside of your house. I could hold the ladders. I just know that you, with such a kind, caring heart, will adore her as much as I.

You mentioned warmer climes and past times. There it goes again, this natural ability of mine to write poetry. It could be a good idea to visit Percy Shelly and give him a few tips. Lord Alfred Tenny what’s his name, could benefit I’m sure. The Charge of The Light Brigade was a bit unimaginative I thought. That line of his: Into the Valley of Death, Rode the Six Hundred, would look so much better with: On horses they travelled, that thundered and thundered, looking around they wondered and wondered, so on and so forth…… I’ll look him up one day and pass on my advice!

I am spending less time on the telephone, but not through choice. Tracey’s number keeps coming up as unattainable, however, she explained why that was. She sent me this message, from Brenda to Myrtle, along with a note saying that she would be incommunicado for a while, visiting the Outer Hebrides. Such an intrepid girl she is! I may just drop in and say hello after my latest escapade.

I bought a very English Panama hat, gave the Dickie thingy a rub and ended up in the Sahara. You did suggest that I needed the sun and the sea.

I must say King Tut’s father struck an imposing figure, shame his name vanished over time. King Tit Tut would have made an unusual exhibition had he not fallen through that sinkhole. (There was a bit of an English deluge at the time) I have never seen such enormous what’s its in all my life!

I have a new friend. He, or she, I can’t quite decide which sex it is, is called Betsy and I’m riding it in search of the sea which apparently is a long way from here. It is a big sandy beach, but I have no means to make sand castles. A friendly man in a Turban sold the animal to me, along with a bit of kit for the journey. He said not to make it cross in any way, as it would get the hump. Stupid man, it already had a hump! I bought the whole load of sand as well, lucky me, eh! I now have my own private retreat.

Lawrence, Lawrence where are you hiding? Do you think he is playing cards with Omar Sharif, Auntie? Tatty bye for now.

Spot

***

Message intercepted at The Doughnut, dated 14 February 2014. TOP, TOP SECRET. Eyes Only For: Members Of The Ocean Going Unidentified Creatures Society……(Let’s see if they can make any sense of it)

I don’t care if sucking on a mouthful reminds you of Spot, Myrtle, you have too much gum in your mouth! Take it out, and repeat what you just asked. No dear… Gum does not cure strep-throat—Eh—Uh… Unless, you share it! Yes, share. You have to split what’s in your mouth with your father. I know. Me too, but sharing with your father will give him a reason to forget all about passing out and missing his rock climbing trip. I prayed he’d at least make it up the mountain. You don’t have to tell me… I know I’m the sweetest and most caring wife in the whole world.

Don’t read the tabloids, Myrtle! What missile? Those aboard the great Prince of Wales certainly did not fire a missile! A submarine? No. I never saw a submarine. After the fire alarms sounded and during my tuck ‘n rolls, two English sailors came to me with chains and cuffs. Because, they wanted to protect me. The ship was swaying! They wanted to keep me and they—What? Yes! You know I can’t go nowhere in this world without some man in uniform trying to capture me. You’re right, they are… They are very selfish. No, not at all. Because I don’t think they have a military here in Afghanistan.

These men are the sensitive, flower-growing types. I don’t know, maybe they plan to use the flowers to lure women here. No. They are scared to death of me. Won’t even look me in the eyes. I keep my voluptuous-self covered with these purple sheets they threw to me when I came out of the lady’s room. Skittish? No, they’re more like terrified, and fortunately the sheets are like some sort of camouflage. Because if I take them off, the men scream, scatter and hide. I’m telling ya, while wearing these, I can walk right up to ’em and they never notice me. It’s like I’m not even there! Well yeah, they always hear me say the word, Virgin. They really, really like my phone. Yes, yes… Quite unusual. That could be why they don’t have any women here, if ya know what I’m sayin’.

Forget about them, Myrtle. On the ship, and as the two sailors neared where I came up from rolling, and whilst I prepared to re-tuck, the side of the ship, dipped. Yes, it dipped! Myrtle, I was waist-high in sea water when the two sailors got swept overboard and sucked into the ocean. I grabbed each one by an ankle… I was going to save ’em, but somebody got trigger happy with the fire-hose and the next thing I knew, I was rocketing at least fifty-metres into the sky! And when I came down, it was feet first! Right, right… You know your mum well! I did sink into the ocean like a boulder! But English sailors think fast, Myrtle… They sent a motorized cylinder-shaped life-saver for me, and once I cleared the school of penguins—What? Yes, penguins. Did you know they could swim? Me neither. And, they bite. Yes, bite! I didn’t know it until one bit me. No, because I ate him, and the dozen around him just in case they had any ideas. I, Brenda, shall one day reign as Queen of Wales. How would it look if I allowed penguins to get the better of me?

I saw the motorized, cylinder-shaped life-saver coming to my aid, but it came too dang fast! Well yeah, I know that’s what happens when men get too excited about something. What do you mean? I did the only thing I could do: I turned my backside to its approach and captured it between my thighs. It was long and thick and so, easily my thighs gripped and squeezed while my bottom-flaps clutched, and together we rose to the surface and then glided across the ocean.

I have no idea. Because I didn’t have a way to clock the speed, Myrtle. I don’t recall what happened to Africa, but I was able to squeeze and then swerve and miss crashing in to the tip of India. I ended up in the Arabian Sea with Pakistan coming up, and I think everything would have been fine if not for the Humpback whales getting in the way. Not even a little taste. No. I was way too full after snatching up a couple Silky sharks near the Red Sea. Well, that’s because I WAS going in circles!

The Bay of Bengal is where that-which I gripped, smashed into India! Huh? Because I can read signs. I don’t know who runs around sticking signs in the oceans, Myrtle! How about you shut up! No, no, Myrtle! I’m trying to tell you that I uncovered some sort of secret weapon the people of India have been hiding from—Geez… Fine. No, no. You go ahead. What about Spot and Tracey? You heard her say that on the Sunday Girl show? She didn’t?  I didn’t know you had Spot’s phone number! Who’s evil Danny Kemp and how’d Spot get his IPad?  Well, I don’t care what Spot has planned! He cannot be permitted to go to the moon! Because that has got to be expensive! Myrtle, you have to get Mack off his old slow butt! I have to capture and rob Spot before he spends my war mongering money on a trip to the dang moon! Stop talking on your phone! I want you to set a fire under Mack. No, I won’t tell you more. Not until you tell me that Mack is about to land here, in Afghanistan! Bye!

***

Auntie,

I’m almost there. Half a league from the sea, half a league more. Betsy and Spot will get there for sure…..Oh Auntie, aren’t I a wit!

Spot

***

Dear Spot,

To protect my sanity, I have decided to pay attention only to the most positive points of your letters.  First, I shall thank you for your tender offer to secure me a small Pekinese but, there is no need.  My niece, Lady Winters, has indicated that she looks forward to assisting me with my selection and it is a lovely excuse to spend time with her.  She is very dear to me and since her marriage, our visits are naturally fewer—so puppy shopping is a brilliant stroke of luck!

I will let you know what I settle on.  Mrs. Ambrose swears by her pugs…but I think I am too frail to haul one about and I’m not sure my conversation is lively enough to draw attention away from some dark-faced little clown mugging on my lap.  I may lose what social appeal I still have!

Betsy seems a delight.  I have read that they can be very loyal companions and that if you can overlook their tendency to spit at anyone they deem “unworthy”.  (Reminds me of a few British Peers I know…)

When you can, don’t forget to drop by the Afghanistan Ambassador’s home with yet another apology for the intrusion of your archenemy in their territory.  Frankly, you may wish to just create a blank form of some kind for all future apologies to foreign princes as that woman travels.  It may save you some time.

Your poetry is improving.  If only because you’ve abandoned the need to create limericks involving—well, let’s leave the subject.  I’m no critic of literary efforts.  (Though I think I have a talent for letters.)

And finally, you are to be Commended Greatly for acquiring a hat and taking better care of your person.  It is a sign of intelligence to do so and it warms my heart to see you so mature and so elegantly appointed.  When you reach the ocean, be sure to enjoy a nice swim.

Your one and only,

Aunt Alice

p.s.  If you see that dreaded woman climbing out of the water like a kraken, RUN!

***

Will Aunt Alice’s constitution stand the strain? Will Spot fall off Betsy or, will he reach the sea? Can the Afghanistan nation recover from Brenda? Finally, will Tracey reunite with her beau?……(or will arrows be more to her liking?)

If you are foolish enough, then tune into Female First, the UK’s most popular online celebrity gossip and life style magazine, for the next addition to this insane comedy.

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About Danny Kemp

I was at work one sunny November day in 2006, stopped at a red traffic light when a van, driven incompetently, smashed into me. I was taken to St Thomas' Hospital and kept in for a while, but it was not only the physical injuries that I suffered from; it was also mental ones. I had lost confidence in myself let alone those around me. The experts said that I had post-traumatic stress disorder, which I thought only the military or emergency personnel suffered from. On good days, I attempted to go to work, sometimes I even made it through Blackwell Tunnel only to hear, or see, something that made me jump out of my skin and that's when the anxiety attacks would start. I told my wife that I was okay and going regularly, but I wasn't. I could not cope with life and thought about ending it. Somehow or other with the help of my wife and medical professionals, I managed to survive and ever so slowly rebuild my self-esteem. It took almost four years to fully recover, but it was during those dark depressive days that I began to write. My very first story, Look Both Ways, Then Look Behind, found a literary agent but not a publisher. He told me that I had a talent, raw, but nevertheless, it was there. His advice was to write another story and that I'm delighted to say, I did. The success of that debut novel, The Desolate Garden, was down to sheer hard work, luck, and of course, meeting a film producer.
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