When she walked into the public bar, Bill darted for cover.
“Hide me!” He whisper-shouted, nodding in her direction, and hoisting my coat from the chair back, up in front of his panic-stricken profile.
“It’s OK, she’s just passing through to the lounge bar” I said.
Bill peeked and looked relieved. He stopped pretending to be putting on my coat, and relaxed back into his chair to gulp down a large draught of his pint as my face lodged an enquiry.
“What did you say?”
“She’s got an evil budgie – it ruined everything, but she’ll not believe a word of it!”
“What on earth are you going on about?” I was mystified. He explained:
It seems that he had chatted her up at a local “Divorced and Singles club”. They had danced, talked, drunk and got a taxi back to hers.
They sat on the sofa, dimmed the lights, turned on some Barry White, and began smooching by candlelight. It was going smoothly and according to The Plan.
She told him she was going to “freshen up”, and left.
“I’ll only be a minute”
He sat back and chilled to the music – suddenly he suffered a sharp pain in the back of his head.
“Oucha!” he jumped to his feet, waving his arms at the wee budgie that was intent on pecking him to death.
This fight continued for a minute of two, when it sounded like she was coming back.
As she opened the door, the bird vanished.
“You alright?” she said, surprised to find him on his feet.
“Yeah, I just need to nip to the loo myself.”
He checked the damage in the bathroom mirror – there was blood. This was not good.
He returned to the living room and joined her on the sofa. It wasn’t quite the same, and she sensed it, so he decided to casually raise the topic of the bird.
“Do you ever put the budgie in the cage?”
“Oh hardly ever! He’s perfectly house trained – even when the front door is wide open, he never tries to escape; he loves it here! Don’t you?” She asked the bird, making kiss-kiss noises. The bird hopped onto his head.
“Oh look!” She exclaimed, “He likes you! – Oh let me get a photo of this! Wait there! Don’t move!” She gave up looking through her handbag for a camera, and turned to look behind at the dresser.
The bird took the opportunity to peck his scalp while she was looking away.
She spun round, “Did he peck you? Oh, naughty boy, naughty boy” she said to the bird.
“Can you get him off?”
“Oh he didn’t mean it. A small peck means he likes you…”
“No, please get him off, please?”
“Oh don’t be silly…”
And at that he snapped, he jumped up and battered off the bird, which pecked him before flying off to perch on the centre light.
“I have to be off anyway” He said, “I’ll call you tomorrow”.
She was pretty upset at what he’d done to her pet. He called her and explained that it had drawn blood and pecked the life out of him when she was out of the room, but she didn’t believe him. She called him a coward for making up stories instead of flat out being a real man and telling her straight.
This annoyed him, so he made another date with her. It went well, and they went back to his place. A few more dates, and eventually they wound up back at hers again, and again, he was attacked when she left the room. He couldn’t make her understand, and he was staying the night.
During the night he paid a visit to the loo, naked, and when it flew at his penis and pecked it, he chased it and flattened it with a thick Bible.
Breathless, naked, and with a sore appendage, he sneaked back into the bedroom, got his stuff together, and crept away, never to return. He left her a note, apologising for killing her bird, and ever since, he’s been on the run.