As Poirot says, ‘All will be revealed’. Fair enough Mollie:-D.
[B][CENTER]35
Crusty Gets A Slagging Off
(and Wins A Bingo!)[/CENTER][/B]
He’d really tried his hardest to bake a lovely cake for her. It would have been perfect if he’d put proper cream in, instead of the shrimp flavoured Primula.
“Well then! How do ya make a cheyse cake?” he asked himself out loud. He decided that he would make it his business to find out.
After she’d slammed out of the door he went back to the cake and tried a little piece. It was true what she’d said.
“Yuk! That’s disgusterating!”
He threw it away. All that effort for nothing! He was choking with tears at the way he’d made her mad again.
Time after time he would do something to upset her, and she was such a lovely lady.
He didn’t know whether to go to see the doctor to see if the doc had any anti-idiot tablets he could take. He decided against it as he might get thrown in one of those loony bins with mad people, like himself.
After Crustabel had grabbed him warmly by the throat, he’d expected her to give him a few pile-drivers but at the end, she’d squeezed his neck just hard enough before the point where he would have blacked out, kneed him in the crusticles again and threw him on the couch, leaving him with streaming eyes. Then she went. She hadn’t had the energy to batter him again.
He sat there in his empty living room and looked around. Alone again! Talk about Billy No-Mates! He had no one else except for Crustabel, and he constantly made her angry with him. He looked down at himself and saw that the OBJ was still covered in cake. He wiped it down with his hands and patted his stomach. The OBJ was in a right mess so Crusty got up and got a cloth to wipe it down.
The cheese smeared across it making a horrible yellowy chocolaty mess. Oh well, it would just have to do until he did his washing next month! He shambled back into his kitchen, moving a lot more slowly these days and, because he’d told them that he was a gastropod, his workmates at the cafe had told him that he’d started to leave a silvery trail behind him as he went. They’d also nicknamed him “Old Slugslie”, but he never knew. They just called him that behind his back. He hadn’t known what they meant about the silver trail. He just thought they were being nice to him.
Normally he would whoosh here and lollop there, but when Crustabel got mad with him and he was upset, it always slowed him down.
“Wot time’s Old Slugslie due in?” they’d ask giggling in the cafe.
Crusty had no idea that he was the butt of much laughter and many jokes by the people he considered his “friends”, but he had no friends.
Once back in his kitchen, as his belly was rumbling again, he made himself a cheese barm cake and a cup of tea.
“Oh sod it! I’m goin’ to’t Club toneet! I’ll sit wi’ some of my nice friends an’ havva chat. I’ll tell 'em all about wot’s bin ‘appenin’ to me and worrave done and who I’ve talked to. As I’m so popular they’ll enjoy listening to me tales!!”
That was a decision he would come to really regret.
He was too late for his job at the café, having been tied up by the children so he set about looking through some recipe books to see if he could find cheesecake. He scanned through until eventually he came to the page. He sat down and read it through properly as best he could considering his reading disability.
“Oh no! So that’s how ya make it. No wonder she was cross wi’ me again,” he wailed, closing the book.
He went to the phone and rung Bel’s number to apologise, but there was no answer. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He couldn’t be bothered with the radio or the TV these days. He just didn’t have the heart for it.
He decided that the next time he would do something to please Crustabel he’d think it over very carefully first to make sure there were no hidden problems that might result. He was thinking about the fact that it was Hallowe’en soon and, as we all well know by now, Crusty loves fancy dress, any excuse to wear a daft outfit. He decided he’d go play trick or treat just up and down the houses on the estate where he lived so decided to put together an outfit over the next few days. He had all sorts stashed away, but there was no rush. Hallowe’en was a week off!!
At about five o’clock he rang Bel again. She answered the phone and heard his screechy, whiney voice.
“Hello Bel, it’s your Crusty a-calli …”
[SIZE=“2”]Slam![/SIZE] The phone went down.
He tried it again. This time she looked at the digital read-out facility she had on her phone before answering. This showed the number of the person calling. Knowing that it was him again, she lifted the receiver and screamed as loudly as she could.
“Wot d’ya want ya moidering owd fart?”
His eardrums were almost shattered and he winced with the volume of her voice.
“Hello Bel, it’s your Crusty here!”
“I know it’s you. D’ya think I always answer the phone calling people a moidering owd fart?”
“Oh, is thar’a privilege reserved especially for me?”
There was an element of sarcasm in his voice, which she’d never heard before.
“Don’t get bloody la-di-dah wi’ me lad or I’ll lamp ya one. Anyway, wot d’ya want, I’m busy? Are ya trying to find out new ways to poison me?”
“No Bel, I wouldn’t do that deliberate. No! I just wondered if ya fancied coming to the Club tonight.”
“No Crusty. As I said, I’m busy. I’m stripping out a neighbour’s car engine for him and I want to ger’it finished tonight.”
“Oh okay. Well wor’about Hallowe’en night? I thowt we might dress up and go trick or treating.”
“Trick or treating. Are ya kidding? That’s for little kids ya soft sod!”
“Aw come on Bel, ickle be a laugh. Go on, pretend we’re kids, go on Bel, please Bel, go on Bel!”
He was getting really excitable again. He crossed his fingers and legs hoping she’d say yes. He’d also crossed his legs as well 'cos he wanted a pee again.
“Oh alreet then. But ya’d best behave yerself while I’m wi’ ya. We can make a night of it.”
He was leaping about now totally ecstatic that she was actually speaking to him again.
“I will Bel, promise Bel, thanks Bel, see yer Bel, bye Bel, thanks B…”
She hung up and went to her cupboards to look for one of her many costumes for Hallowe’en which was tomorrow!!
Oh oh!!
Anyway, Monday night is bingo night at the Club so, later on after he’d changed out of the messed up OBJ and into old beigey, he peeled off on foot. He’d put on his combinations tonight as it was getting a bit cold and he wanted to keep his you know whats warm. He didn’t want them frozzen again!
He didn’t see any point in having a wash as nobody would notice and anyway, he just couldn’t be arsed playing hunt the soap. He’d find it for when he met Bel though next week.
When he got there he looked around to see who he could sit with and who he could get the best mileage out of moidering.
Ah! There was old Egbert and his missus, Myrtle. He could sit with them again as he had been doing for the last few years whenever he found himself alone which, come to think of it, was pretty regularly. He swanned over to them confidently bidding them good evening.
“Hello there. Crusty here!”
They hadn’t seen him coming as they’d been engaged in a very serious conversation about their forthcoming Golden Anniversary celebrations. If they had seen him they would have done something about it, but it was too late.
Oh … er … hello Crusty. We were just …!"
“Hutch up a bit missus and ler’us sit down!”
He plonked himself down in the seat putting himself between Myrtle and her husband. He started babbling on to old Egbert about what had happened to him in Blackpool. The missus lady had started fuming and sat with her arms folded, tapping her foot angrily. It was the same every time he came into the Club.
He always did it, but this time she wasn’t going to let him get away with it. Not this time. She’d put up with this quite enough! She was more upset with him than Crustabel had ever been, but Crusty didn’t know that.
Yet!!
This lady was nothing like Crustabel, who had a quick temper. No! She was one of the sweetest natured ladies you could ever wish to meet. Quietly spoken, but with a broad local accent, she never stood out in a crowd, unlike Crusty. A very genteel, sensitive person she was who only saw the good in everybody. Even on the odd time that she won at bingo her shout was so quiet that the bingo caller sometimes almost missed the claim. But everybody has a breaking point, especially when Crusty’s around.
Crusty never once turned to talk to her, which made her feel left out. She was blazing mad, but simmering and when he got up to go to the bar, she slid back into her own seat and told her husband to get rid of him, or she would!
When he came back he told her to hutch up again and stood over the poor woman waiting for her to move again and accused her of pinching his place! She was abso-bloody-lutely blazing!
First Gear
“Thar’a cheeky owd get!” she said, really annoyed with him. “Tha’ pinched my seat in’t fust place. Thar’a cheeky owd bugger tha’ nowt else!”
“Burra were talking to Egbert! I were telling him about wor’appened to me in Blackpool a lickle while ago. Ya was interested, weren’t ya Egbert?”
“Well … er …!”
His high-pitched voice was getting more and more strident with each word. Egbert had been bored rigid. People started to turn to see what all the commotion was about.
“Oh, hey up. Crusty’s winding somebody up again,” some of them said.
They went back to supping their ale, but listening at the same time. There was always some entertainment when Crusty wound somebody up.
The missus lady was really losing her rag now.
She sat quietly with her eyes closed tight just for a little while in the hope that when she opened them again he’d be gone. She risked one eye! He was still there.
Second Gear
[SIZE=“2”]“THAAA’ were talking to Egbert? I were talkin’ to Egbert before you ya cheeky sod. Ya swaggers in here like ya owns’t bluddy place, noddin’ an’ smilin’ at fowk and there’s nobody bluddy well likes ya.”[/SIZE]
Crusty stood silently gob open and pint in hand, while this tirade was going on. Her husband kept trying to shush her but she was just getting to the point of moving into third gear.
[SIZE=“2”]“Ya lollops o’er 'ere, tells ME’t hutch up, plonks yersell down between us and then turns yer back on me like I’m th’invisible mon. I’m his WIFE and we were having a private conversation when you showed up uninvited!”[/SIZE]
She was shouting and stabbing her finger in the direction of her cowering husband.
[SIZE=“2”]“Thar’an ignorant owd gobsh!te tha’ nowt else!” [/SIZE]
“Burram only chattin’!” said Crusty, himself now beginning to cower.
It was bad enough when Crustabel was angry and shouted at him but this was different. He didn’t even know what he’d done wrong this time which is nothing new. He never knows what he’s done wrong.
Third Gear
[SIZE=“2”]“I towd ya. Nobody bluddy well likes ya so I don’t know why ya keeps buttin’ in all’t time, sitting wi’ fowk that don’t want yer cump’ny. Everybody thinks yer nowt bur’a smelly owd fart, always wearing that sh!tty owd blue jumper. Weer is it toneet? Could ya not ger’it on o’er yer yed because it’s too stiff from nast?”[/SIZE]
Crusty’s nerves started getting the better of him again, and he could feel a big one brewing. If only she knew. She’d hit the nail on the head!! Poor OBJ - it wasn’t his fault.
She stopped cussing him for a minute just so she could get her breath back. Crusty thought she’d finished and had just opened his mouth to speak, when she started again. By now he had a face liked a slapped arse.
Fourth Gear
[SIZE=“3”]“Yer a scroungin’ owd fart, always after fowks’ butties. Ya ne’er stops bloody aytein’ and yer always begging for somebody else’s jack bit. Ya ne’er fetch yer own grub. Yer bluddy bally’s not yer own!”[/SIZE]
Paaarp, paaar-rip!
[SIZE=“2”]“And that’s another thing. Yer allers farting all’t time an’ all! Phew! Ya nasty owd sod!”[/SIZE]
She looked him up and down with a look of distaste on her face.
[SIZE=“2”]"Mind you, looking at them bluddy nasty hands o’ thine, I’m not surprised ya don’t fetch yer own grub. I bet ya don’t even wash ‘em after ya’ve wiped yer arse! Ooooh! Yer a nasty owd bugger. Yer always after other fowks’ baggin’. I’ve sin ya circlin’t bluddy Club like a bluddy owd vulture and ya always lands where there’s somebody ayetin’. Yer always bluddy well foragin’ like an owd stray dog and ya drones on like ya’ve getten summat interesting t’say![/SIZE]
There was a moment of golden silence. Crusty was gob-smacked!
[SIZE=“2”]“D’ya never havva wash? Ya always have time’t do yer lickle kiss curl on yer fore’ead before yer comes lollopin’ in here. Wot d’ya stick it down wi’ any road? Ickle not be bluddy soap, I know that much!”[/SIZE]
Her husband tugged at her sleeve gently
“Myrtle, Myrtle. I think that’s enough. Yer going to upset him.”
[SIZE=“2”]“Upset him! I’ve nor’even getten started on him yet, the skennin’ owd fart!”[/SIZE]
She stood up and started prodding him in the chest with a bony finger, years of his moidering had taken its toll on her sweet temper.
Overdrive
[SIZE=“3”]“Why dusn’t bugger off somewhere nobody’ll bluddy recognise ya and gi’ some of us some peace an’a bit o’ fresh air. Ya’ve a face that’d frikken a bluddy crocodile, y’ugly owd bugger. When did’t last have a wash anyway ya nasty owld scuz bag Crusty? Crusty! Wot sort of a bluddy name’s thar’anyway. I’ll bet yer called that 'cos yer knickers have a crust on 'em, ya nasty owd sh!tehawk! It’s no bluddy wonder ya cawn’t keep a woman interested in ya, ya nasty mardy-arsed owd bugger!”[/SIZE]
“Me name’s Crustopher, that’s why I’m called Crusty!” he said quietly, at last getting a word in and wondering what had brought all this on.
Even Crustabel had never called him those sorts of names. She just battered him instead which, on reflection, he preferred!
[SIZE=“2”]“Nobody’s called Crustopher ya daft owd sod. It’s Christopher!”[/SIZE]
“Is it? Well wor’about me other name, Grayvid?”
“That should be David ya daft bugger!”
“Should it?”
All these years he’d been calling himself the wrong names? He did feel daft. But no! It couldn’t be right. He’d find his birth certificate and prove to them what his name was. It must be on his passport too!
Standing up, she snatched the full pint of bitter out of his hand and poured it over his head.
“Neh then si’ thi’, tha’s had a wash!”
“I tek it ya don’t care for me much!”
She stopped yelling at him for a moment. All was silent. Crusty looked around and saw that every single person in the Club was staring at him. Many of them were killing themselves laughing silently into their hands, their eyes streaming.
He made himself move toward the Gents as he’d been rooted to the spot. There he wiped his dripping face down with some toilet roll, WASHED his hands and then waltzed back into the main room as if nothing had happened.
He went and bought himself another pint then returned to where Egbert and Myrtle sat, the hard-faced sod.
There was a spare seat to the left of Egbert on which he sat. Poor Egbert had been mortified at his wife’s tirade. They’d been married for almost fifty years and in all that time he’d never known her to say even boo to a goose!
That’s the kind of effect Crusty has on most people.
Everybody was watching to see what Myrtle would do but she did nothing. She had one of those faces that always had a downward sloping mouth, and that was when she was happy!
Crusty went to buy some bingo tickets and asked Myrtle if he could borrow one of her pens.
“Thar’a cheeky sod! Here, and make sure ya let me havvit back after!”
The game started.
Apart from the bingo sellers and the bar staff, nobody else spoke to him all night.
However, he walked out with a cheesy grin on his face. He won the two hundred pound jackpot, stuffed the money into his pocket, gave Myrtle her “lucky” pen back and swaggered off.
He decided that he would treat his Bel to a slap up meal for Hallowe’en! It wouldn’t be an Indian this time though. This would be something very special!!
© Mollie M
18.10.01
Enjoyed the latest chapter Mollie… I think Crusty should definitely go to the doctor for some anti idiot tablets 
Felt sorry for him again for being got at in the club but he had the last laugh for winning at bingo :-D:-D
He got a few home truths told him from old Myrtle didn’t he? Even his darling Bel has never spoken to him quite like that, but it will be a while before she finds out about it! ;-)
You shouldn’t feel sorry for him though, as he brings all these things on himself. Jem has quite taken to him as well. 
Just wait till Chapter 37. Hopefully I will have you in tears - laughing! 
Oh yes everything Myrtle said was the truth but he’s so gormless you can’t help but feel sorry for him…he just hasn’t got a clue
[B][CENTER]36
Hallowe’en Night
(Where’s Crusty?)[/CENTER][/B]
When he got home he counted the two hundred pounds again. This was the fourth time he’d counted it, as he never got tired of playing with real money. This would last him for a very long time. Years, in fact. He played with a pretend person.
“One for thee, one for me! Two for me, and one for thee!”
He had endless fun with it. He also played at being Bank Managers at the Bank That Likes To Say “NO!” He tittered away to himself.
Then he remembered that he’d promised himself that he’d take Bel out for a special meal so that would take quite a chunk out of it. At least a fiver! He had a cup of tea then went to bed thinking about where he should take her after trick or treat. It would have to be well thought out. It had to be a nice place with good food. He’d have to think carefully so that he didn’t do anything to upset her again.
The next morning he got dressed before going to his cafe and went over to his telephone.
“Good morning this is Bel L …!”
“Morning Bel! Did ya sleep alreet?”
“Morning Crusty. Worisit ya want only I’m busy, and stop bluddy shouting down’t phone!”
“Oh sorry Bel. Woritis Bel is, I won a few quid last neet an’a thowt I might tek ya for a meal after we’ve done trick or treat. Have ya gor’any preferences?”
“Not really owd lad. I’ll leave it to your good judgement!!”
Eh?
Crustabel went back to working on her costume so that it would be just right for the evening. She was thinking to herself that she must be absolutely crazy going along with another one of Crusty’s daft ideas, but it might be fun at that. She’d taken it as read that she was calling for him later on. She usually did, so thought nothing more about it.
That evening she went upstairs to put on her lovingly created costume. She already had a long flowing black dress that she’d bought a long time ago and wouldn’t be wearing again, so she’d tarted it up with a few odds and ends that she’d bought from the shops. They were full of stuff for kids at this time of year. She’d bought a couple of rubber spiders. One of them was a fluorescent green, which she sewed to the shoulder of the dress. The other one she dangled on a piece of black cotton from her tall pointy witches hat on which she’d also stuck silver glitter.
A small piece of Blu-Tac was rolled into a little ball and she stuck it on the end of her chin for a wart. Then with some green eye shadow she painted all her face covering the wart to match in. Lastly she applied some bright red lipstick and blacked out a couple of her teeth with black eyebrow pencil.
The effect was simple but effective. She looked uglier than ever!
Picking up her broomstick she flew over to Crusty’s house!!
Only kidding!
It was still quite early, about seven thirty, and there were a lot of people around as Crusty lived very near to one of the local pubs. Not the best one in the world I might add, as the place was frequented by under-age drinkers, and certain forms of pond life.
“Well, he’s a sh!tty little toad himself!”
She tittered.
She pulled up outside his front door, which fronted the pavement and got out of the car where she attracted all sorts of attention, being in costume. A few other people were also dressed up in costume as well so she didn’t feel particularly out of place, except that she was old enough to be their grandmother and in actual fact did look like a real witch.
Anyway, she knocked on Crusty’s door. She started to feel a little uneasy as his car was nowhere to be seen, but that meant nothing as he often left it in different places and then forgot where he’d left it!
She banged on the door again. She knew he was expecting her but she also noticed that the place was in darkness.
“Where the hell is he? Wot’s he gor’up to this time?”
It was no use so she gave up.
[CENTER][/CENTER]-oo0oo-
Crusty was having a wonderful time, that’s what he was up to. Earlier in the day he decided he’d go fishing as he had recovered all his tackle from the shed. He’d forgotten he’d put it all in there years ago!
He’d taken himself off for the day to Tarleton to fish in the River Ribble with a flask of tea, a carrier bag full of butties, pies and barm cakes which he’d liberated from the cafe he worked at, a tin of Midget Gems (his favourites) and a tin of maggots. No! The maggots were for fishing, not for him!! They were in the same carrier bag though!
There he was on the riverbank, a solitary figure wearing his warmest clothes, three pairs of socks, wellies, his old brown jacket and snack-a-mac and sundry vests and
jumpers. He had his combinations on again while it was cold. Well, in actual fact he’d never taken them off, electing to sleep in them as well on these colder nights.
Old scuzzy never changes does he? Socks, knickers etc…!
There wasn’t another soul for miles and he was able to just sit and think about the wonderful things he’d seen and done with Bel, and all the daft things he’d done as well. Every now and then he would absent-mindedly dip into his carrier bag and take out the maggot tin, then he would hook one on the end of his line. He was daydreaming now.
Another hour went by. He must have been sitting there for a couple of hours or so by now but he wasn’t cold as the day was fine for the end of October. He was as warm as toast. If you’d seen all the clothing he had on you’d understand why.
Regrettably he’d had to leave the OBJ at home as it was in too grotty a state for even Crusty to wear, although he was only fishing. He does have some standards you know?
He actually caught a few fish but once he’d done that, he threw the poor buggers back into the river because he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to do with them.
He was getting hungry again, but by now he’d eaten all his butties and pies. Once again he absent-mindedly delved into his carrier bag and took out his tin of sweeties for a munch. He didn’t think it was healthy to keep his jaws still for too long as they might seize up. Midget Gems had been his all-time favourites ever since he was a little boy and he liked the taste of the black ones best of all. He sat munching away still daydreaming about his antics then put the tin away again.
Half an hour later, finally coming out of his reverie he opened the carrier bag yet again and put his head inside to find his maggot tin. There it was! Time for more fish feed.
Of course, you know what’s coming. You’ve been reading these stories long enough by now. The maggot tin was empty but the Midget Gem tin was still full.
“That’s funny! Wor’appened to me maggots? I had a tin full.”
Always on the slow side (being the gastropod - Old Slugslie) it began to dawn on him what must have happened. He’d opened the wrong tin and had eaten the maggots!
“Yukky! I cawn’t believe I’ve etten me maggots and not noticed!”
I can! He probably thought they were shrimps again!
At the time Crustabel was banging on Crusty’s door, he was in his car heading back home.
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
Once she was home again, Crustabel was beyond rage, beyond temper, beyond being bloody angry with him. This time she was going to do time, in jail if necessary, because of him.
“I’ll bluddy well batter that putrefying little sack o’ sh!t when I ger’old of him. I’ve gone to all this trouble for nowt! All this effort I’ve gone to purrin me costume together and me make up, and he farts off someweer without lerrin me know!”
On realising that he definitely wasn’t at home, and not wanting to put her gorgeous costume to waste, she decided to go and join a few other people she knew at a pub near to where she lived. They were having a fancy dress for Hallowe’en so she wouldn’t feel out of place as many of them were her neighbours who would also be in costume.
They were surprised to see her thinking that she had a dinner date with some batty old geezer called Crusty!
“Yes well, apparently there’s been a change of plan right at the last moment.”
“Oh come and join us Bel. Never mind that silly old fool, you’re more than welcome to join us!”
She had a grand evening and won the five hundred pound prize for best witches outfit!! She only went to the best establishments, except for when she was with Crusty, and this was a very posh place indeed! Everybody knew and liked her and, knowing she was on her own, was always made to feel very welcome by the patrons.
She was thrilled with herself and almost started to forgive Crusty for being absent. If she’d met up with him as planned she wouldn’t have won the five hundred. She was enjoying herself more here than she would have done with him.
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
Not quite a week later Crusty was getting excited about his evening out with Bel and had put together a costume that she would be proud to see him in.
He was to be Count Dracula - Prince of Darkness! (More like Prince of Pastings)!
He’d rummaged and rummaged until he came upon an old pair of very thick black tights that Soreen had had years ago, which he put on, stretching them to the limit over his lumpy belly. He stretched them so much that a ladder appeared which started from the top of the leg at the back and worked its way down to his ankle.
Also, when they were popular, someone had bought him a black Batman sweatshirt, which he also put on. Then he went to the kitchen and got a black bin liner which he cut down the two long sides and made a long flowing cape! From another black bin liner he made something that resembled a long wig by cutting it into strands and stuck it to his pointy hat. His black plastic smelly shoes with the silver buckles and almost white woolly sweaty socks completed the outfit.
He favvered weel!
The OBJ was really getting left out of things these days and was starting to think that perhaps Crusty had had enough of him and was going to throw him out.
Aw wor’a shame!
Bliss, thought OBJ!
He’d just put the finishing touches to his outfit when there was a loud knock on the front door.
“Who the bluddy hell’s that? Oh I know! It’s probably kids collecting for Guy Fawkes,” he chunnered to himself.
A few of them had been to his door over the last couple of days.
He slowly opened the door, which had started creaking. He really must put some oil on that hinge, he thought. There were two little kids with a tatty old bunch of rags with a mask on it who, with big innocent eyes, looked up at him and were about to ask, “Penny for the Guy, mister?”
On seeing him though they screeched in terror and took three steps back. One of them was a right little smart arse and smirking at him said, “Hey mister! That’s one o’t th’ugliest masks I’ve ever seen. Where d’ya ger’it? Tha’d frikken a bluddy Police horse wi’ a mask like that!!”
Crusty raised a fist at them.
“Bugger off ya lickle sods or tha’ll cop it. Am not wearing a mask anyway ya cheeky lickle bugger! Sod off!”
They took another two steps back.
“Well if that’s yer real face mister pr’aps ya should go and buy a mask to cover up yer ugly chops! Ya frikkened us! In fact, here, ya can 'ave this ‘un. Bluddy Guy’s better lookin’ than thee!”
Throwing the monster mask at him they both turned and peyled off as fast as they could, giggling away. Crusty huffed and puffed over their rudeness. Kids today! He wouldn’t have been able to get away with that sort of cheek when he was a kid.
With that he picked up his wallet (which he’d already prised open), his snack-a-mac, etc and put them into the pocket of the old black jacket that he had on under the cape, and locked the door behind him.
Thick black tights with a ladder in them, a black Batman jumper, old black jacket, black bin liner and smelly black plastic shoes! And then he actually put on the monster mask that the kids had thrown at him!
I leave you to conjure up the picture. You should be good at this now!
He got into his car and drove to Crustabel’s house. He had a good feeling that tonight would be wonderful. They’d accept treats instead of tricks as most people handed out biscuits, crisps, lollipops and other types of food for treats. I told you he’d do anything for free food. After that they would go to a nice place he’d discovered for the meal he’d promised her.
With the biscuits and crisps they could have a munch on their way there. He had it all figured out!
[CENTER]
-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
He banged on her door with his left fist and pressed the doorbell at the same time with his right finger. Something he always did and it always aggravated her.
Thump, thump, thump, rrrrring!
She’d fallen asleep on the couch and didn’t hear him the first time. He hammered and banged on the door so hard he almost knocked it through and left his index finger firmly pressed on the doorbell. The noise inside was deafening.
“All right, all right. Ya don’t have to knock the bleedin’ house down!” came the angry voice from within.
Oops!
[SIZE=“2”]“Tha’d best be’t bluddy Police. If tha’ not tha’ll bluddy well cop it for making so much bluddy din!!”[/SIZE]
Crusty stopped banging and took his finger off the bell press.
Oops!
He stuck his thumb in his mouth. He’d upset her again already.
The door opened and there she stood, larger than life with a face that would have frikkened a Tyrannosaurus-Rex if they’d still been roaming the earth! As a matter of fact, right at this moment she looked a bit like a T-Rex - she looked all teeth!!
As she’d expected to have a quiet night, in she wasn’t dressed up and her hair was all over the place and no make up on! She couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw him and, demonstrating her usual greeting, she grabbed him by the throat and hauled him in.
She threw him into the middle of the living room floor and assessed him by walking around him, looking him up and down.
“And wot the bluddy hell have you come dressed as?”
“Count Dracula, Bel! D’ya like me costume? I think it’s not bad for trick or treat and I thowt we might make a start at …”
His voice trailed off, noticing the look on her face.
“Is there summat the matter Bel?”
She was advancing on him like a killer shark, her false teeth looking more huge than usual.
“Wait Bel, please wait a minute. If yer goin’t batter me at least tell me worrave done wrong first!”
“Sounds fair enough to me! Okay then. Answer me one question. Why have you turned up here on the third of November looking like a poor man’s Bela Lugosi?”
“Well it’s me costume Bel, for Hallowe’en! I thowt ya’d’ve remembered that 'cos I told ya I was goin’t take ya for a meal after, which I’ve booked!”
“Well ya can bluddy well un-book it ya daft looking arsehole!”
“I don’t understand Bel. Ya’ve never seen me arsehole so how d’ya know it’s daft looking? Where’s your costume anyway?”
“Oh I thought I’d be a bit different this year,” she said airily, “I wore mine last week on the thirty first of October, just for a change! An’a have seen yer pimply arse when ya fell into that bear rug in Scotland. Yer bluddy kilt came up to yer neck!”
“But why did ya wear it on the thirty first of October Bel?”
“Well, just call me an old traditionalist. I’m a bit old fashioned that way so I wore my Hallowe’en costume on Hallowe’en night!”
Crusty’s face was beginning to pale.
“Bur’it’s Hallowe’en tonight Bel. In’t it?”
“No Crusty it was Hallowe’en almost a week ago and I turned up at your house looking like Grizelda the Witch but you weren’t there, were you? So I went and took the car home and popped into The Cat and Canary near where I live. That’s a posh place Crusty, you wouldn’t know it. Anyway, they were having a fancy dress night
and games, bobbing for apples and so forth and I won five hundred quid for best witches outfit.”
“So it’s nor’Hallowe’en anymore? Ya mean I missed it?”
“Yes,” she said advancing on him again, “Now then. Where was I? Oh yes!”
She picked up the broomstick from the corner and started chasing him around the room in an attempt to shove it up his backside so he could sweep the floor on his way out.
“Worra ya goin’t do with that, Bel?” he asked fearfully.
She stopped chasing and started advancing on him slowly. She was thinking about exactly what she was going to do with the broomstick. Planning it very carefully in her mind she continued to advance on him, whilst he was just as slowly backing away from her.
She’d made up her mind. She told him precisely what she was going to do with the broom and very slowly she spoke to him with a huge grin on her face.
“Why I’ll tell ya. When I catch ya I’m goin’t ram this stick up yer arsehole till it comes out through yer gob and let ya sweep the room for a bit. Then I’m goin’t roast ya on a spit o’er a hot fire and dip butties in yer dripping! I think I might take a few slices off yer arse as well when it’s cooked and freeze it for me Christmas dinner. Also, ya’ve gor’a little chipolata tharra can wrap up in some of yer belly pork and there’s two little sprouts near theer as well! That’s me Christmas dinner sorted out!”
She never realised how fast he could run!
Roger Bannister eat yer heart out!!
© Mollie
19.10.01
Just had to read this before bedtime!! OMG eating maggots instead of midget gems, yeeks !! Another good chapter Mollie 
Thanks Marian. Did you expect anything else from him?
Another very enjoyable chapter Mollie, Dracula’s night out, a poor mans Bela Lucosi:lol:. I used to have a navy blue Batman outfit when I was a kid, I loved it and wore it all the time, but my mother had it surgically removed:lol:.
Thanks Jem. This next chapter is one of my favourites. Obviously, I like them all because I wrote them, but there are certain ones that I enjoyed writing over the others, and this next one is such a chapter.
[B][CENTER]37
Crusty’s Saddest Day (Aaah!)
(so He Goes To The Zoo!)[/CENTER][/B]
Fleeing from Crustabel’s home in his daft Hallowe’en outfit, Crusty would have given Sebastian Coe a run for his money. He didn’t mind her pasting him every now and again as that was only to be expected, but threatening to cook him, and then eat his arse and crusticles for her Christmas dinner was just a bit too much.
Crusty had never seen Bel look so horrible and ugly before. He’d never really noticed as he’d always seen her dressed up to the nines, and her face hadn’t really mattered that much to him. She’d always reminded him of a comfy old couch.
Seeing her in her Wincyette nightie and men’s bedroom slippers had been bad enough, but to see her with her hair all over the place, no make up and wearing a demonic grin had frozen the blood in his veins. She was uglier than an elephant’s arse looking like that, and when she picked up the broomstick he could have sworn she was a genuine witch.
She’d unsuccessfully tried to shove the broom handle up his backside and it hadn’t been for want of trying. She’d made several jabs right on target, but his tights were thick and hadn’t allowed access. However, there were now two gaping holes in the seat of them, which the wind was whistling through.
If only you’d been present but invisible in that room you’d have seen an extremely big fat woman prancing around in her nightwear, chasing a lumpy bellied old man with skinny little legs wearing what almost passed for a Dracula costume, attempting to insert the knotty handle of a witches broom up his arsehole!
Still, he thought himself lucky.
“She could’ve tried shoving the bristle end up! That would’ve bin much worse!”
Luckily for him, he had been able to escape her grasp this time. He’d made it to the door and flung it wide open and, as she couldn’t follow him out looking like that, he’d jumped into his car and was off like a shot.
As he’d been expecting to go out, and not wishing to ruin his evening completely, he parked his car at home and walked round to the Club. There was nothing going on, it being a Tuesday, but he needed a snifter of something to calm his nerves down after almost being kebabed by Crustabel!
Every time Crusty walked through the doors of the Club he would always attract attention of some sort, but this time was just a little bit different.
The first room you come to is the Games Room and there’s a snooker table and darts board. Several men were playing both games for fun and for practice, and others were just lounging around or standing chatting.
He went straight to the bar and ordered a double whisky, his nerves in tatters. Bel would have gone mad if she’d known, but she didn’t. He drank it straight down (under the mask which he’d forgotten to take off) and his eyes watered. It wasn’t the drink that made his eyes water, it was the cost of it.
He could hear some of the men laughing at some private joke, and then more and more started laughing until the place was in an uproar. He turned around to see what they were all laughing at and saw that everyone had stopped playing their games and nattering. They were pointing and laughing at him! One vertically challenged chap with a limp, a hump and an exaggerated happy smile sauntered over to him and slapped him hard on the back.
Crusty fell down.
“Oops, sorry owd lad,” said the man, helping him up and laughing his head off
“Worra ya doin’ at me?”
“Didn’t mean to do that. Neh then Crusty owd feckler. Wot’s come as? Is it Batmon? Nah! Ya need yer knickers outside yer tights for that. Nah I know wor’it is. Ya’ve come as Cher 'aven’t ya, ya sexy mare?”
He started tickling Crusty under the chin.
“Sing us a song ya sexy lickle minx! Come on lad, pur’us all out of our miseries!”
“Why wossup? Wot d’ya mean?”
“No! It’s come to me now. I know wor’it is. Ya’ve come as a bag o’ rubbish! That’s wor’it is!”
“Cher! A bag o’ rubbish! I haven’t a clue wot yer goin’ on about! Leave me alone. I just want to be left in peace. I’ve just had a very scary encounter.”
“I’m not surprised walkin’ round lookin’ like that! Ya’d frikken bluddy Frankenstein’s monster lookin’ like that.”
“Look I don’t know wot yer on about an’a don’t care. Just leave me alone.”
The man sauntered off again grinning and winking at his mates.
There was still a lot of laughter going on around him. They were laughing at his daft Dracula outfit. Somebody shouted to him from the back of the room
“Hey Crusty, dust want a bite?”
Food? Did somebody have some food? He was bloody hungry again, as usual so he turned around and grinned his cheesy grin.
“Oh yis please, ta very much. Is it butties? Wot’s on ‘em? I could just ayte a bit o’ cheyse!!”
“Hey Crusty!” yelled another chap laughing and pointing, “Ya’ve gor’a ladder in yer tights!”
Crusty was totally fed up with them teasing by now and yelled back.
“Well why dussn’t run up it and kiss me arse then?”
“Oooooh!”
By this time the men were doubled up laughing and eventually one of the Committee Members had to go over to him and told him he would have to leave.
“Go home and get changed out of those stupid clothes Crusty, then ya can come back if ya want. Ya can leave yer mask on though!! Ya looks better wi’ it on!”
More peels of laughter.
“Wot d’ya mean get changed. There’s nowt wrong wi’ worram wearing. I’ve been in here before wearing these …”
He looked down at himself and realised he was still in the same daft Dracula outfit with the bin liner for a cape and the bin liner wig that he’d worn when he went to pick up Bel, not to mention the two gaping holes in the arse-end of his tights where she’d tried to kebab him!
He felt a right fool! He was getting forgetful.
Yet again he’d made a prat of himself. He’d actually walked the streets from where he lived, passing people en route that he knew, black bin liner floating behind him in the breeze. He’d nodded at them and said “how do” and had noticed them giving him funny looks but had no idea why.
He stepped out through the doors, laughter still ringing in his ears. He had to walk back home again still looking ridiculous.
Nothing new there!
He’d never live this down. He decided to go home and never come out ever again. That’s the only way he’d be able to live out the rest of his life without being ridiculed again.
The next morning he went to his little job at the cafe as usual. When he walked in, the rest of the staff turned and looked at him with pity in their eyes, then turned their heads away and started to busy themselves with other things. Having forgotten about last night’s fiasco he was feeling quite chipper this morning, and was looking forward to seeing the usual customers and having a natter whilst he cleared away their dishes.
The boss called over to him from the kitchen. Everybody turned their heads away from Crusty again as they knew what was going to happen. Happily he scampered in to see the boss, almost knocking him down in his haste to assist.
“Mornin’ boss,” said Crusty, saluting him smartly, as had become his custom.
“Mornin’ Crusty. Come in. I just wanted to …”
“Where shalla start this mornin’ boss? Shalla put the salt, pepper and vinegar and stuff on the tables first?”
“No Crusty, just listen. I need to speak to you about …”
“Well then boss, shalla polish all the knives, forks and spoons then?”
“Crusty will you please just listen to me. I have to tell you that …”
“Well I’ll tell you worrall do then boss, I’ll put the lickle paper serviettes into glasses and make the tables look nice! How’s that?”
“CRUSTY SHURRUP FOR A MINUTE.”
Crusty shut up.
“Wossup boss? Is there a problem?”
“Well I’m really sorry to have to tell you this Crusty, burram going to have to let you go.”
“Go where? I’ll do anything you ask boss. D’ya want me to go to the cash and carry? Just write me out a list an’ I’ll …”
“No Crusty. I’m trying to tell you that I no longer require your services.”
“Eh?”
“I’m sorry owd lad burram taking on another full-time waitress and there won’t be room for you as well. She’ll be doing your job with the other waitress between 'em and tekkin orders as well. I need someone who can butter bread and make sandwiches too.”
“I can do that boss!”
“No Crusty I’m sorry burra can’t let ya do that!”
“So ya mean ya don’t want me anymore?”
“No, sorry Crusty.”
“Am not to do me lickle job anymore?”
“I really am sorry. It’s just the way things are.”
“No more free feeds?”
By now the boss was feeling awful. Poor old man! All he wanted to do was keep himself occupied and feel useful, but he was becoming a liability as several of his customers had complained about Crusty, the state of his hygiene and the OBJ.
“Right then,” said the devastated Crusty, tears welling in his old bleary eyes, “I’ll be off then. Bye boss.”
“Bye Crusty.”
“Well I’ll tell you worrall do boss. I’ll only …”
“Bye Crusty.”
“Bye boss.”
He shuffled slowly through to the cafe area, silver slug trail following him, and looked at each of his workmates, his pals, his buddies, his chums.
“Bye Crusty,” they all said together. “See ya around sometime.”
“Bye. See ya.”
“Bye.”
With bobbers rolling down his face he left the little cafe he loved so much, for the last time.
After he’d left, the others felt sad
“Poor Old Slugslie! He wasn’t such a bad old stick!”
When he got home he sat in his armchair totally stunned. Now what would he do? What would become of him? The cafe was all he’d been living for, for so long. He needed someone to talk to. Someone who would understand his grief! Someone like Bel! He picked up the phone and punched in her number. It started ringing. The receiver was lifted on the other end.
“Bog off!”
“Bel, Bel, please don’t hang up…”
[SIZE=“2”]Slam! [/SIZE]
It was unbelievable how many telephones she got through!
That was it. He’d nothing now. No job, no mates, no Bel.
[CENTER]-oo0oo-[/CENTER]
Two hours later he found himself walking through The Plantations in Wigan. He couldn’t remember how he’d got there. He’d no recollection of getting into his car and coming here and wondered where he’d parked it.
Ah well, he was here now so he might as well make the most of it. It was November now and it was a cold day, but he was well wrapped up in the Old Blue Jumper and his moth eaten sheepskin, so he must have decided to come here sub-consciously.
He and Soreen, his long dead wife, used to love coming here when they were young and had many happy times looking at the flowers and sitting in the little park areas chatting. They had loved the huge conservatory best with the little pond outside and the goldfish. They would sit on its wall with their carrier bags full of butties and a flask of tea, and just enjoy being together.
Maybe that’s why he was here. Perhaps he’d been drawn here by some invisible hand. He felt peaceful as he walked, taking in the smell of the shrubs and late flowers.
After he’d walked for a couple of miles or so he came upon some signs pointing in different directions. One of them said ZOO, so that was the route he decided to take.
“That’s worrall do. I’ll go and look at the anink mules. Ya can always trust anink mules. They’d never do anyone down. Ya cawn’t always trust humans though. They always laff at ya and batter ya!”
But animals were nice, and just for now he’d had quite enough of humans either taking the Mickey out of him, or feeling sorry for him, or battering him.
And animals were nice!
Weren’t they?
He arrived at the little turnstile and actually PAID real money, coin of the realm, sterling, to go in! Yes, he paid a whole pound! He wondered around aimlessly at first and stopped by a wall to rest that had a sort of moat without water like a no man’s land, then a fence. Beyond the fence there were some camels so he decided to stay for a while to look at them. Someone had once likened his face to a camel’s arse a while ago so he thought he’d check it out for himself.
At that time of year there were very few people around, so Crusty leaned forward over the wall, which was waist high and got one of the packets of butties out of his carrier bag and bit into a barm cake. He couldn’t remember having made these either. He must have been on automatic pilot once he’d got home. He leaned over a bit further so he could get a better view of the creatures and thought quietly to himself while he was having a chomp.
“Ugly buggers them! All that fur hanging down and munching all the time. I wonder wot they’re ayetin’!”
The animals were moulting, hence the fur hanging down, but Crusty didn’t know that.
One of the camels had seen him from a distance. Ugly bugger that, it thought about Crusty! That funny hair hanging down, and it’s munching all the time. It wondered what he was eating! Then it stuck its nose up and turned its back on him.
Suddenly two others noticed him and came lolloping over. At this point I’m not sure which of them thought the other was ugliest, but the camels were certainly taking an interest in Crusty and had come right up to the fence to take a closer look at him, their long necks hanging over it.
They seemed very close but because of the fence and the no man’s land, Crusty thought he was safe and started pulling faces at them, as if the original one wasn’t bad enough! He stuck his thumbs in his ears and waggled his fingers at them!
The camels looked at each other then back at Crusty. Without any warning at all one of the camels pulled its head back and spat at Crusty. Like a Scud missile it was bang on target.
Splot! The gunge landed in the middle of his forehead.
“Ya nasty bugger!” said Crusty, wiping away the slop from his head with the sleeve of the moth etten sheepskin. “Ya’ll not do thar’again an’ ger’away wi’ it.”
The other interested camel decided that this looked like a good game and, before Crusty had recovered, it too had spit-balled him, right on his left cheek.
“I say! What ho! Well done old bean,” said Camel Number 1 in his best military upper-crust voice to his mate, “Jolly good shot. Bang on target!”
“Why thank you darling,” said Camel Number 2 to her husband, fluttering her eyelashes, “I’ve been practising but this is my first moving target. Ugly looking creature isn’t it Jeremy, don’t you think?”
“Indeed I do Jemima. Upon my soul! I’ve seen many of these creatures in my time old girl but this is one of the ugliest, unlike us!”
With that they both lifted their heads up proudly and lolloped off again.
Crusty was obviously unaware of the camel conversation and was hopping about from foot to foot, his face red as a beetroot.
“Ooh, ya dirty buggers. I’ll get ya both for that! I’ll wrostle ya both to’t bluddy ground!”
With that Crusty attempted to jump into the camel pen but it was too high. Instead he ran round and round the outside of the enclosure trying to find a way in, and finally found a door which he thought led into the camel pen. I don’t know what he thought he was going to do with them, but he was totally mad with anger!
He tiptoed carefully so as not to disturb the animals any more than necessary. He’d watched David Attenborough programmes where they had to be careful and quiet so that the animals didn’t see them. Crusty knew he had to stay down-wind of them, otherwise they’d have run a bloody mile if they’d got a whiff of him and the OBJ!
He sidled along with his shoulder scraping against the wall like a super spy on a secret mission, taking little steps at a time. He pretended he was James Bond! There was a short hairy figure following him! Crusty stopped on a corner.
He felt something touch his leg but when he turned round there was nothing there.
“Just my menageration,” he thought.
He carried on, still on tiptoe. The hairy creature continued to follow, mimicking him also on tiptoe. Matter of fact, it looked exactly like Crusty’s shadow, as it was the same shape as him.
Something from behind grabbed his arse this time and gave it a good pinch.
“Ouch, who’s that?”
He turned round again, but still there was nothing there. He couldn’t have imagined that. It hurt! He stopped for a minute to rub his bum. Just then it started raining. It would wouldn’t it! Crusty, for once, didn’t have the snack-a-mac with him and he was getting drenched. There was nowhere at all to shelter so he sat it out in the hope that it was just a quick shower.
It took him a while before he noticed that the downpour was isolated. It was only raining around where he stood. How strange, but typical. It was then that Crusty noticed a funny smell. It was probably the strong smell of the animals that became more acute when it rained. It was the same with soil. Once it rained you could smell soil strongly. That’s what it would be.
“Neh then,” he said out loud, “I’ve never seen that before, where it only rained around me! Perhaps it’s a freak weather thing!”
He looked up just then, and was totally outraged again by what he saw. On an overhead gantry stood two very large male chimpanzees picking their noses! (It was very obvious they were male)! When they saw that Crusty had noticed them they threw their heads back and screeched loudly in a mockery of a laugh. Then one of them flirted some of the crud at him that it had got out of its nose.
The bloody things had spotted him tiptoeing around and when he’d stopped they had both, in turns, taken aim and peed on him from a great height!! He’d somehow managed to get into the chimp enclosure! They weren’t red-arsed monkeys but they were of the sh!tty-arsed variety! Horrible they were. All yellow teeth, dangly hair and ugly crappy smelly backsides!
A bit like Crusty really!
He raised a fist and shook it at them, yelling.
“Ya nasty buggers!”
He tried mopping himself up with his sleeve but he stunk rotten.
He’d heard somewhere that music soothed the ravaged beast (or words to that effect) so he started singing that song at the top of his voice at them from The Jungle Book, which the apes had sung to Mowgli in the film.
[CENTER]Oh oooby doo, I wanna be like you ooo ooo
I wanna walk like you, talk like you …[/CENTER]
He was prancing around and he’d only got half a dozen words out when all the apes went ape-sh!t! They went beserk! Screeching and jumping up and down. Some of them clapped their hands over their ears! His singing was as bad as usual and they started chasing him around the enclosure. There was howling, squawking, screeching and shrieking. And that was only Crusty!
The hairy creature that had been following him was a female chimp and, on hearing Crusty sing also threw her head back and started screeching. The noise from them all was deafening. She ran up to him and crawled up his front, put two hairy arms around his neck and gave him a big sloppy kiss on the mouth. Then she pinched the two barm cakes from his shoulders and stuffed them into her mouth!
As if that weren’t enough, she then squatted down and crapped a dollop in front of him. Bloody hell! What a stink! What in God’s name did they feed these animals with? Ah - but! She had just eaten Crusty’s barm cakes don’t forget! Still screeching and waving her arms around, she picked up a big hairy handful of the slop and lobbed it at the cowering Crusty. I think it was her way of saying that his singing was crap! Crusty ducked in the hope that it wouldn’t hit him and, if he’d stayed put, it wouldn’t have done. Just by moving slightly he’d put himself in direct range and it landed with a smelly splash on the shoulder of his moth eaten sheepskin, down the front of the OBJ and up the side of his neck. Then she grabbed him by the crusticles with both hands giving them a hard squeeze and then buggered off on all fours still screeching.
The OBJ was fed up of being crapped on, especially after that big dangly cow pat when he went to Cornwall with Crusty.
By now, wondering what all the commotion was about, three other chimps had come onto the scene to see what was going on. Poor old Crusty sat down on the floor of the pen shaking like a leaf and his eyes watering as usual. He covered his head with one of his arms and held on to his painful prized possessions with the other. He felt like he’d just come through a battle zone and his crusticles were throbbing again from when the monkey had squeezed hard! He felt like he’d been sat there quaking for hours when he was grabbed by the arms. Crusty started squawking again trying to fight off the new intruder.
“Ger’off me ya hairy-arsed bugger!” he screamed, panic rising in his throat.
A gentle voice answered him. A human voice!
“Come on owd fettler, how’ve ya gor’in here? The chimps don’t usually react like that! They’re proper genkle normally! Ya must’ve done summat to frikken 'em!”
Crusty looked up to see a real human being. Yet more tears clouded his eyes.
“Me frikken them? Ya must be jokin’. I’ve done nowt!”
On seeing Crusty’s terror-stricken face the keeper spoke kindly to him.
“Oh I can see now wot’s happened now tharra can see yer face proper. They’ve thowt ya were one o’ them tekkin’ up more of their space. They were just weighin’ y’up. Come on lad, I’ll get ya out of here before there’s any damage done.”
Any damage done!! The damage was already done.
Because of his ordeal he was driven back to the Plantation Gates by a member of staff and then had set about finding his car, which luckily wasn’t far away.
To re-cap on all that had happened in just one day. He’d lost his little job at the cafe he’d adored. Bel had told him to bog off. He’d no mates. He was the most miserable he’d ever been in his entire long life. He was wishing he’d never gone out of the house that morning. He’d been gobbed at by two camels. He’d been sexually assaulted by a lady chimp who had also nicked his shoulder pads - I mean barm cakes, which he’d been keeping as reserves for later, and eaten them. Then she’d had the temerity to crap it out in front of him and had given it him back by lobbing a load of it, which had hit him bob on! And to top the lot he’d been peed on from a great height by two bloody monster hairy-arsed male chimps.
Spit on, peed on and crapped on!
And he’d paid a whole pound for all these privileges!
A typical day!
Couldn’t have happened to a nicer chap!
Even the bloody animals couldn’t stand the sight of him!
© Mollie M
25.10.01
Aw poor Crusty, definitely not his day! Lets hope he has a better day tomorrow
Just read the last three chapters, really good
Sorry, but I still feel sorry for poor old Crusty - first Myrtle being abusive towards him, then the kids at his door and to top it all off, lost his job and even the animals hated him at the zoo! 
And you’re still wondering why!
Actually, it is a shame for him, but he still brings it on himself and you can’t deny that.
Don’t worry. Things will change for him in the not too distant. 
Perhaps I’m too soft
No you’re not. You’re empathic toward him. He just can’t help being daft!
As much as you won’t believe this right now, Bel is his saviour, but you’ll have to read on to understand why.