Young and Hungry - For Life - 4. The End

Edward placed his fingers on the keyboard, centred the cursor, pressed caps lock and typed THE END. He then leaned back into his chair and stared at the page until he was interrupted by Romel. “How’s it going my love?”

“Fine thanks.”

As Romel approached Edward and looked over his shoulder he noticed the words on the screen and said “You’ve finished already? That was quick.”

“No not quite, I’ve a bit more to do yet.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

“Anyway, what do you want, you know a writer shouldn’t be interrupted when his creative juices are flowing.”

“You call yourself a writer already, you’ve only written two words.”

“Well, it’s a start and that gives me something to aim for. Even the longest journey starts with one step.”

“Yes, I suppose so. Oh, I’m about to start dinner, I thought I’d give you an early warning, it’ll be about an hour.”

“Good, now I’ll get back to my writing.”

As Romel left, Edward moved the cursor in front of the T, hit enter a few times and repositioned the cursor on line one. He then pressed caps lock, paused for a minute, typed, LOVE IN THE SUBURBS, leaned back and stared at the page.

While thinking, he was again interrupted by Romel “I’m doing chicken. I forgot to ask, do you want Teriyaki or Adobo?”

“What a silly question.”

“What? ...oh I see, you want your favourite. Adobo it is.” He then checked on Edward’s progress and remarked “Oh I see you’ve now got a title and the end.”

“Yes, now I’ve only got to fill in the middle bit.”

Romel smiled behind Edward’s back and left the room.

Alone with his thoughts, Edward mused over how he would start his story. ‘I think I need an attention grabbed, maybe a sex scene. Yes that’s what I’ll do. Who are the sexiest couple I know?’

Then the following words started to appear on the screen, Justin and Craig both stripped and headed for the shower....

‘Oh bugger, I can’t use my friends’ real names. That’s a bit unseemly. How about Julian and Chase? Yep that’ll do for now. I can always change them later with find and replace.’

***

A few days later, Romel came home from work all excited. After giving Edward a hug and a kiss he said “Look what I’ve got for you.”

“Besides you, what else do I need?”

“I think you need these notes I got from Deidre, at work. She writes also and when I told her you were just starting she offered to give you some of her notes from a creative writing course she did last year.”

“Oh great, thank her for me will you.”

“Sure, now while you look at them, I’ll go and shower.”

“Ok, I’ll have a quick look and then start dinner.”

Edward opened the notes randomly at a page titled ‘Great Opening Lines’. The notes went on to say ‘These lines are designed to trigger your imagination, so good luck on your writing adventure, wherever it may take you.’

Edward was so intrigued he forgot about his plans to start the dinner because he wanted to try one of the suggestions. He chose one, then started typing.

It was a dark and stormy night.

He thought for a few minutes, then started typing again, Inside, the fire was crackling, the cat was purring, the corn was popping and the VHS was rewinding. All was set for a cosy, cuddly night watching a favourite romantic comedy - or was it?

The cat slowly lifted her head and looked towards the staircase. She had been disturbed by the soft padding of footsteps on the stairs. Deciding it was no threat, she settled back to snoozing in front of the fire. After a momentary pause, the footsteps continued towards the kitchen and stopped at the old wood fired stove. On top of the stove was a large heavy cast-iron pot. The owner of the footsteps slowly lifted the lid, but was immediately overcome by the stench from the pot. As if propelled by an invisible force, he reeled back till he slammed against the old refrigerator, still clunking away after forty years of uninterrupted service.

When he recovered and regained his balance, he gingerly stepped towards the stove, peered inside and exclaimed “Fuck, I’ve burned the popcorn again.”

<>

Just then Romel came looking for Edward, when he could not find him in the kitchen. “I thought you were going to start dinner?”

“Oh that, yeah...soon. I think I’ve got the knack of these writing prompts now. Don’t stop me while I’m in a role.”

“Ok Agatha, I’ll leave you to it.”

Edward wriggled the stiffness out of his fingers and returned to the keyboard.

Chase slammed the lid back on the pot and said out loud “Oh I can’t deal with this right now. I’ll clean it up in the morning.”

No sooner had he said it, when he heard a blood-curdling scream from the living room. He rushed in to see his partner in an apparent state of shock and tightly griping a long black object in his trembling hand.

“What happened, my love?”

“I was flipping through the channels and suddenly was confronted by the shower scene from Psycho.”

“Oh, that’s all right then. It was only Janet Leigh screaming.”

“No it was me.”

“Surely you’ve seen that before, why did it frighten you so much?”

“It wasn’t Psycho that caused me to scream. It did startle me a bit, I will admit, and I pressed the channel button in fright only to be confronted with reruns of RuPaul’s Drag Race.”

“Oh you poor dear, no wonder you screamed.”

<>

‘Oh I like this, I think I’ll try another’ Edward said and flipped through the notes again till he found another intriguing opening line, this one from Orwell’s 1984 and copied it.

It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.

“That’s the last time I get that shonky clock repairer in Chinatown to fix anything.”

“So what time is it really?” asked Julian.

“Probably one o’clock” replied Chase.

“So the next time it strikes will it be fourteen or one and if it’s one will it really be two o’clock and if it’s fourteen, will it still be two o’clock. Then if it strikes fourteen does that mean it will continue like that until it gets to twenty four?”

“Enough!” shouted Chase.

“Hey, now I get it. It’s now a twenty-four hour clock, like army time. You know like they say in the war movies, nineteen hundred hours Sir!”

“You’re right, so now all you have to do is subtract two hours and you’ve got the right time.”

“So you’re saying, when it strikes six, I subtract two and it’s really four o’clock?”

“Yes...NO! Only when it strikes thirteen or more.”

“That’s too complicated, I’ll just use my digital watch.”

“What time is it on that?”

“Thirteen ten.”

<>

‘Oh this is so much fun.’ Edward thought, ‘but it’s not a book, not even a short story, more of a pamphlet. Maybe just one more before I have to cook dinner.’

He copied these words, It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. From Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities. Then sat back and watched the cursor blinking at him, just begging for one more word. But it was a hungry monster. One more word would not be enough, it would continue to demand another word, then another sentence and yet another paragraph, even a whole page. Then before one knew what was happening, it would be demanding whole chapters. Was there any way to satisfy this cursor’s thirst for more?

‘Where is that damn key?’ demanded Edward.

He pressed sleep and the cursor was no more.

As he left the room and walked down the hall he remembered that Romel had referred to him as Agatha, and thought maybe that’s a sign. I should write a whodunit. Now who will I kill off?

In the kitchen Romel was searching through the freezer so Edward asked “What are you doing?”

“Looking for something for dinner, I’m starving. I thought I might find something I can just defrost in the microwave, since you’re too busy carving out a new career for yourself”

“Sorry, I was enjoying that. Those notes are very helpful”

“Ah, this will do” Romel said as he retrieved left over curry from the freezer and put it in the microwave”

“Do you think you could kill someone with a microwave oven” Edward asked

“Yes definitely, and I might try it on you”

“Oh, are you that angry with me? I’ll open a bottle, a drink might calm you down”

Edward poured two glasses, proposed a toast to himself and the success of his writing endeavours. “Now tell me how you think you could kill someone with a microwave”

“Why the sudden interest in killing?”

“It was what you said. You called me Agatha, so I’m thinking I might write a murder mystery and I need a novel way of killing someone. Tell me how do you do it with a microwave?”

Romel didn’t really take Edward seriously so he answered “There are two methods”

“Go on”

“If you have a victim small enough you could cook them alive”

“Doesn’t sound feasible, what else have you got?”

“You could throw it at the victim’s head”

“Nah, don’t like that”

Romel shared the defrosted curry between two bowls, and as Edward raised the first spoonful to his lips, Romel added “What about poisoning?”

***

The condition of Alfred Prentice, the owner of the building that housed Poppy’s, Dean’s and Divas, deteriorated after his admission to hospital. The day before he was admitted to ICU he said to his wife “You know, I closed that filthy Chinese restaurant and reported the other lot for drug dealing and now I think their Chinese curse is going to get revenge on me.” He may have been right; after two weeks in ICU he succumbed.

***

Lockdown life at Crystalline had found its own rhythm since Dante had arrived. Jonathan attended to business during the day, having now taken over Thomas’ old office. His digital expertise had advanced remarkably since he was forced to have meetings via Zoom and use email and text to keep in contact with the board.

The three younger men spent most of their days in the garden. Dante, of course spent his days getting the gardens back into shape after a morning workout to keep his body in shape. Thomas and Lachlan worked out with him and then assisted in the garden, now under Dante’s supervision. When they tired of gardening or were dismissed by Dante because their efforts were more hindrance than help, they went off to the pool.

Cook was now in the habit of making a big plate of sandwiches, fruit and cake for the boys each lunch time, as she knew they liked to have their lunch either in the garden or, if the weather was inclement, in Dante’s flat above the garage.

Dante occasionally took a few hours off to work on his bike, whether it needing fixing or not. It was his baby and his hobby that kept him sane when he was done dealing with plants. He used to say he got more conversation from his Ducati than from all the trees in the garden.

Dante was in the garage, working on his bike, when Thomas went to call him for lunch.

“Lachlan’s gone up to the kitchen to get lunch so he should be back in about fifteen minutes. Can I watch you work on your bike till then?”

“Sure, I know you like to see my muscles at work.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Somewhat, but it doesn’t surprise me, I get it all the time. I guess you’re just lucky being a man as you can find a reason to hang around the garden or be in the garage. Carol seems a bit obvious hanging around the garage and I’ve tried to tell her she doesn’t have to change my sheets so often.”

“Speaking of Carol, have you two...you know?”

“If I had, why would I tell you that?”

“Oh, just a man to man thing.”

If you want a man to man thing, it doesn’t involve talking about whether or not I’ve slipped it to Carol.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Firstly, I’ll give you a good look at my body” he answered as he removed his grease stained blue singlet.

“And then?” asked Thomas

“This” was Dante’s brief reply as he dropped his shorts and stood there, his sweat glistening in the few rays of sun that crept into the garage.
“Should I strip now?” asked Thomas.

“Not just yet, I need you to do something for me.”

While Thomas was considering his answer, Dante fossicked around the work bench and finally found what he was looking for. But before turning to face Thomas he took a screwdriver and inserted it into his erection. The weight of the screwdriver pulled his cock from a vertical to a horizontal position. He then turned towards Thomas and said “I apologise for not being has hard as I can be. As you can see I am only horizontal.”

“Wow! With that weight in your cock, it’s still impressive.”

“Thank you, but I think a cock ring might help.”

“You’ve got a cock ring?”

“Yes, here somewhere” and searched around the work bench again. When he found what he wanted, he showed Thomas a large hose pipe clamp. “But before I put it on, you’ll have to take out the screwdriver.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Slowly now.”

“Of course, I don’t want to cause you any damage.”

“It’s not that, but it feels so much more pleasurable if you withdraw it slowly.”

Thomas took hold of the handle and started to extract it, but before he could withdraw it completely, Dante said “Stop! Now push it back in slowly up to the hilt.”

Thomas obliged and could now feel his own erection begging for escape.

“Now just continue that in and out slowly.”

Finally Dante said “Now pull it out completely, so I can put on my cock ring.”

Dante squeezed his balls through the hose clamp, then his penis and when he had all in place said to Thomas, “Now use that screwdriver to tighten the clamp.”

Thomas gave the screw a few turns and asked “Is that tight enough?”

“Are my balls shiny and the veins showing clearly?”

“Not quite?”

“Then continue screwing until they are.”

Suddenly Thomas stopped, dropped the screwdriver and felt a chill run through his body.