Pseudo Akaash
love sex.. no sleep.. go bonkers..no pills..

                              UNDER CONSTRUCTION

The after school clubs have just shut for the day and the kids have spilled out on the street looking for trouble.
Aida is waiting for a 177 to Peckham, looking very extravagant, 3 full blue carrier bags hanging off her arms asymetrically.
The children are staring, laughing and throwing things (broken pens, rubbish off the street) at the Old Dear.
She's used to this. She was sent to Auschwitz when she was only 12, where she languished for 3 years.
Death sentence? Prosecution? Stoning?
'Been there. Done that.'
For protection she's wearing a pair of golden Indian snake anklets,
'To scare the little bastards off if they come too close for comfort..'
'Gotta stick up for her.', Fanny finds herself waiting for the very same bus.

Aida is an icon, Peckham meets Chelsea, her perfume is strong and stylish.
What is it?
'Jasmine?', no "grandmary" scent here, Fanny is sure.
'No,dah-link', the Little Gran shakes her head, 'Number five. It's "number five"..', she announces with pride.
Ernest Beaoux#5, 1921, it's been family tradition, since her Dad first brought it from Paris for Mum, she explains, 'Coco liked this one best.', she added.
'You're a bit of Fox, aren't you?'

'I LOVE AND ADORE HER!', Fanny begins to get drawn into the aura of a very charismatic Opera Singer.

'WHEN I GROW UP I'M GONNA BE JUST LIKE HER!'
'Just wait till you see the picture..'
'Get the mad woman's picture, Kurwa Jebana! Czemu, cholera nie wzie,lam aparatu!!!?
'I do drama with "Him" Saturday mornings..', Aida butts into Fanny's foreign thoughts posing as if for a photo-shoot she turns her hace up and to the side.
Clearly she must have done it before.
'Drama, you say, dear? Where about do you do that?'
'Oh!, she smiles absent and dreamy for a moment, '"He" does have some naughty little place in XXX'sham by the Catholic Church', she wraps her blonde curls around her little finger flirtatiously, '..where he first heard me sing.'
'"He" really uses my voice up!'
'I sing from 9am till 6 at night , you work it out! I'm 46, you know.'
The snakes round her ankles started to hiss,'She'ssssss forty-sssssixsss, you know', as Miss Adams moves closer and glares at the butterfly design black net tights stretched over Aida's bony knees.
'To scare the little bastards off!', Aida's going into a verbal loop, dementia is slowly setting in.
'Better cover me legs', she says pulling her short, short skirt over her knees,
'Boys like this, don't they. Can you believe I'm 46!?'

'Wait till the weather gets better, dah-link, I'm gonna show me bum! I'm 46, you know. Boys like this, don't they.', she's trying to put on a fake Cockney accent.
'You can show your bum, belly , back and legs but not the other thing!'
'You got to have the other thing covered', said the Community Warden passing the women by.
'I got to 'ave me'ava thing covered..I'm 46, y'know.', she smiles revealing her red tipped pearly whites and the bright red lip-stick ripples into cobwebs around her lips.
She is very pale. She might be anaemic.

Under a red'n'white checkerboard baseball hat , (peak chopped off, worn back to front, the whole thing fixed to her head with a yellow hair-grip) she is wearing an Ace-style 50p blonde weave with a bunch of blonde plaits fixed to the side of her head with three multi coloured hair-grips.
The ends of the bunch are secured with colourful beads, jingling with a plastic sound to them as she turns her face away from the warden and looks up at Fanny once again.

'What's the time?', a gold watch fixed to her red top (obviously meant to match the lip-stick) with a safety pin, is broken.
Aida bought her first anti-aging product in 1971 (the butterfly net tights), the time stopped right then and she never aged a day since.
'I'm 46, you know.', surely she has over-estimated it.
She's been collecting her "Pret-a-Porter" "far-fotzels"(*) ever since and arranged the whole "shabbang"(**) on her body as some sort of amulets against The Time Master but not the three herniated discs - the stuff was heavy to carry and certainly contributed to her bad posture.
'Omnia mea mecum porto!', she says pointing to her paraphernalia.
'I got to 'ave me'ava thing cov'r'd..but I'm going to show me bum, just you wait for the hot weather to..', rollling, rolling..

<----notes----->
very short skirt
butterfly design net tights
golden Indian snake anklets on top
kid size tiny white-red Nike Air with the the air bubble to help her bounce,
help the lil lady fly ay ay ay!
yep i is drunk again!
<-----notes---->

A 177 pulls over. Aida lifts her tiny kid-size Nike Air clad feet up one by one to climb up the steps.
The Lil'Ole Lady took the window seat, Fanny sat right behind her.
November is a good month to discuss fashion and hot weather.

'Here's my number, darling', Fanny hands Aida a piece of a brown Inland Revenue envelope scribbled over with the important data.
'Come to my class, it's free. Here are the details. Give me a ring, I'll call you back and give you exact directions or we can pick you up. It will be lovely to have you there.'

Just as Aida is getting ready to open her mouth to respond, a little bundle of joy wrapped in pink all-in-ones enters the stage voicing the doom and gloom some of us will or have already faced as parents in our bleak future/past.
The baby screams it's voice-box off as the couple biologically responsible for the noise calamity exchange smiles with the whole of the bus.
No sign of distress. Well done.
'Summer time makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine in my mind', Fanny's ring-tone is competing with the new-born Screamer-1.
'Yep!'
'Hi, stranger. 'owz trix?'
'WhuzzdaNOISE!?'
'Oh,forgot2tellya. Meet AB-Junior.', Fanny's stretched her hand out bringing the receiver closer to Little Mr Decibel's powerful larynx, the Mum smiled, 'He'll helpya with vocals over the week-ends, Babee-face.', Fanny blurted out her best line this week.
'Has it been dat long?', not a hint of a nervous tone in the "Babee-face" voice,
'Fot u wuzz onya monthlies..Christened da lil'bastard yet, didya?', as usual, the AB28 took it like a man, like a good Catholic man.
'Nope. But I had the lil'bastard circumcised!'
'Yeah! I can hear! Holy water! A "bastard" it is!', is he getting "paternal", or something?
'Hope your arse looks good in a suit?'
'Have I got to be there, luv?'
'What do you think?'
'Let's just make sure he's mine, babes. We're still on for tomorrow?', the fast and forward thinking Android has got the evolutionary advantage.
'Frrrgh', Aida pulled one of a dozen packets of Paloma Handkerchiefs out of a blue carrier bag and blew her nose in a dove-white scented tissue trying to steer some attention away from the Screamer. No use.
'The Noisy Muva of All Boats!',the solution in the shape of a bottle of formula plugged the "boat" up just in time for Aida's line to come through.
The Opera Singer stole the limelight once again.
The baby's absolutely "michael'd" the contents and a loud burp signalled that all was good again.
'Is this Peckham yet?', Aida's red-lipstick soiled "paloma"(***) fell on the dirty bus floor in disgrace as the snot-free now lady got up in panic, afraid she's missed her stop.
'Almost. I'll tell you when we get there, it is the last stop.'
Aida sits her bum down and reaches into her shopping bag. Her hand is surprisingly young-looking as she stretches it out offering Fanny a spare pack of Paloma.
Her nails are a testimony to a recent visit to a Rye Lane Nail Bar - green acrylics with an intricate floral diamante design tip the fingers adorned with rings. The index finger sports a massive black moonstone set in silver.
'All change!'
'Where do you need to get to?', it is difficult to look the woman in the eyes with all the glamorous distractions littered around her persona.
'Crystal Palace', she is like a Xmas Tree shining light out on the toughest out of the Culture Shock Citizens of Peckham.

Prince of Persia - the Warrior Within, she's fascinated with some kinda game -research this(?) a lorry passing by, the air bubble almost lifts her feet of the ground with the aid of her butterfly-winged tights she ascends up into the world of the Prince of Darkness. The Warrior within holds her petite self..some bollox gotta go use my brain to earn some money now laters

tbc

                                *    *    *

              SWEETER THAN LOVE IS REVENGE.
                       "De te Fabula narratur" (Horatius Satirae)

Garfield says,'I'm not religious but I've got beliefs,
only live round the corner, so I go in sometimes on a Sunday.
Once I noticed a little blonde at the front.
"Praise the Lord, was she loud!", she sang with all her heart, mouth and the red lip-stick too, "No talent!"
I passed by the pew she sat in to get a closer look.
She clasped her handbag in panic.
It made me feel like plankton(****), right at the bottom of the food chain.
'Babee, you're a Shark Slayer. The Old Dear used to be some Shark, trust me - I researched.'
I thought I remembered her from somewhere.
Oh yeah! She only lives a few doors away.
She once knocked on my door when I first moved in and brought some cookies.
Her name was Aida, she was in her 60's but looked healthy enough.
"I'm 46."
The following day she stopped by to apologise for the bag-clasp move and brought a gift - some old spoons and forks.
I chucked them later.
"Drop by sometimes.", she says.
"Why not.",the cookies were all right.
I visited the woman later that day.
"Garfield, can you do me a favour?", she looks me in the eyes intensely, sitting there in her nightie.
"A favour?"
"Yes."
"A favour-favour?"
"I didn't have, you know, three years now.", her body was really old, '46?', I doubt the birth certificate agreed.
Three years!? That's like *eternity*!
She looked old.
She smelled old. 46?
She had this "grandmary" smell about her.
"I pulled her knickers off and..."
"Garfield!? How did your dick did not go down!?"
"Her bush. She had a nice thick bush. Mature. A fully matured woman. I like that."
"Next try Nunhead Cemetery."
"What!?"
"Now, don't piss me off. Get lost, don't even think of me when you're wanking!"
"I wank all the time."
My girlfriend thinks I always think of her when I'm wanking."
"What difference does it make to you anyway?"
"I think of someone I could not possibly have, like a lollipop woman, a head teacher or.."
"You close your eyes..."
"Whom was I doing the other day...? Oh yeah! Lady Di."
"You close your eyes...you might as well do Queen Mum in her grave."
"..I think of what she's like and what she might smell like.."
"Most likely quite bad, if there's anything at all left of her by now!"
"Can you get me my bear from the fridge, luv."
"Post coitum omne animal triste.."(*****)
tbc


* var-fotcels, Yiddish , Polish, German: "farfocle = postrze,pienia odrazaja,ce"- disgusting old bits'n'pieces, lit. male pubic hairs.
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** shabbang, no idea, you tell me.
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*** paloma, dove
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**** plankton, tiny open-water plants, animals or bacteria, greenish in colour, microscopic organisms that float freely with oceanic currents and in other bodies of water, characterised by extremely short life span. The name, like the word planet, is derived from a Greek root that means ''wanderer".
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*****  post coitum (...) triste,  well obviously you might get thirsty if you're sad :) ...do I really need to translate this one?
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Una Paloma Blanca - "Ode to Italian Wanker"
(rude poetry) - Vanillah M.