Extract #3

Beginning of extract
…I’ll just go to the door and give them an apologetic “Sorry, I’ve already given someone cash/food/clothes (whatever it is they ask for ) today”. I open the door however, to see Mary my neighbour, probably the only thing worse then a beggar.

Mary lives across the road from me and seems to think we are the best of friends. She’s a sad middle-aged spinster who is in her thirties and looks like she’s well into her forties. Mary, together with an equally sad girlfriend of hers, whose name I can’t remember, regularly frequent the same night spots as I do, looking for naïve and drunk young men to take home with them. She’s your stereotypical old hussy who seems to live at the bar, the one you snigger at and make fun of while you’re chilling amongst your friends. I’d actually pity her if she wasn’t so incredibly annoying. She is outrageously flirty, which is rather gut wrenching when you look the way she does. I’ll admit that she probably looked okay in her day, but that ship has long since sailed off, and yet she insists on dressing like a 16 year old, clad in tight fitting outfits, along with a heavy coat of makeup.

“What do you want, Mary?” I say grimly. She’s on her way to the stores and her car won’t start. “I think it’s the spark plugs,” she says coyly. I’m sorely tempted to scare her away with the flare gun I keep nearby, but decide that tt’s probably best to just help her out and be rid of her. She has a knack of always overstaying her welcome. Had I declined to help she would have wangled her way inside anyway, and probably would have invited herself in for breakfast.

We head off towards her house. Her shitty little Toyota is parked in the drive-way. It’s more rust then car and has clearly seen better days, pretty much in the same way as the driver of the car. I actually feel a little embarrassed standing near this poor excuse of a machine and I hope no one sees me here. I pop the hood and take a closer look at the engine with all the wires and plugs dangling about. Yes…I have absolutely no idea what’s going on, but rather then show my ignorance I pretend to tinker around murmuring incoherently to myself. I read somewhere that you should always murmur incoherently to yourself when you don’t know what you’re doing, as this tends to give people the impression that you actually do. She doesn’t seem to be buying this however, as she’s now eyeing me rather suspiciously.

I continue prodding and pulling away at things, trying to perform a modern day miracle and bring the car back to life. To be honest I’m not even sure what the engine looks like, although I’m guessing it’s this large oily thing with the fan attached. I’ve heard from people that the engine tends to be rather large and I’m guessing the “spark plugs” she spoke of earlier must be connected to this somehow.

“Yes, it’s most definitely the spark plugs,” I tell her gravely, not knowing what they are or what they look like. I hope she doesn’t ask me to elaborate, so I quickly change the subject before she has a chance to, and enquire as to her previous evening. Apparently she spent the night at the Moon Bar which is disturbingly close to where we were last night.

In fact, it’s amazing I didn’t run into her as we normally make a turn there during the course of the evening. Frankly, I always feel embarrassed when I run into Mary at a night spot. She always looks so pathetic and is normally quite drunk as well. Because of this, she stands out in a crowd and the last thing you want is to be associated with her. She is the evil cousin of a Club Acquaintance, the infamous Club Loser, someone who everyone regards as a lesser being and who nobody wants to be seen with.

Club Losers are therefore more widely known than your average C.As, but clearly for all the wrong reasons. They are normally identified by either having a horrible dress sense, incredibly bad dancing or for being incredibly ugly. Yes, it is true. Looks do play an important part in today’s society, no matter what people say about “what’s inside is what counts”. The people who say these things tend to be ugly themselves so their opinion doesn’t really matter anyway.

You can have the greatest personality in the world, but the truth is, if your face looks like a piece of abstract art, you’re gonna be ostracised by the beautiful people. No prizes for guessing which camp I fall under.

Mary is Club Loser material due to any number of flaws – her bad taste in clothing quickly comes to mind, as well as the fact that she’s never sober which is acerbated by her not-so-pretty looks. The icing on the cake however is her shocking antics on the dance floor which really has to be seen to be believed. Picture a groggy hippopotamus thrashing about in water and you have an idea of what we’re dealing with here. Now imagine entering a club, trying to look suave and cool while greeting some C.A’s, and then being confronted by this thrashing hippo. You try and duck away, hoping it never saw you, but you’re too late. It trundles over, loudly shouting out your name, and gives you a sickeningly long hug, making sure that every attractive female in the club has now seen the two of you together. Your night is basically fucked now. Any chance you might have had with regard to the fairer sex has pretty much been evaporated. With great sadness you can either head for the bar and drink yourself to a stupor or head out to another club.

With those hypothetical scenarios running through my head I breathe a sigh of relief that we never crossed paths last night. “So it’s the spark plugs you say?” she asks again with a look that says “You have no idea what’s wrong with my car, do you?”

“Yes, they’re not too expensive but you should get them done as soon as possible” I tell her with a reassurance which belies my ignorance on the matter. I don’t really know where she got the idea that I’m mechanically minded. She should have known better. I’ve never been that good with my hands, at least not when it comes to mechanical work. I’ve always had beautiful soft hands and actually had a stint as a hand model, showcasing the latest in male watches and cell phones. I got quite a bit of cash doing that if I remember correctly. Should actually think of trying it again sometime… Anyway, I’ve done my Good Samaritan deed for the day and quickly dash off home. My stomach was starting to make strange sounds while I was at Mary’s and I hope she never heard, she might think it was indigestion or I was farting which wouldn’t be cool, even though she is a nobody.
End of extract