If The Shoe Fits

My novel, If The Shoe Fits is sitting at around 20,000 words now so I've taken off what was posted to give it a bit of shine and add to it a bit. It will be back soon.

The Girl Next Door

“I can’t get over that guy” barked out from

Next door’s garden in the early night

“And how he went on and on and on

Certainly he’d be no white knight.

Fucked off he did, as fuck off I said”.

Then laughs filled all the air outside

Where too many voices spoke too loud,

Too long, too much, too far, too wide.

The leaving for me was too empty.

Chatter and call and occasion to

Find occasion too tempting for me to rise

To the stair and stare and see through

The temptation of a girl next door.

For all that she might offer to me

Is a lonely walk and darkened path

That would neither bind or set me free.

So the lights went out on both sides

Of the fence and in the dark I waited

For a signal or a sign or an offer

For which my breath was baited.

Sunset Fishing Lady

Sunset Fishing Lady

Sunset Fishing Lady perched upon a pontoon and

Looks toward the burning sky as the very last

Breath of daytime whippers into the face of the cool night.

She looks above the water, flat like, glass like, where

Insects lift and leave tiny shock waves which grow and

Reach across the water to spread to where some fish may bite.

The line lays long and leaning along the incline leaving up

From the wet and reaching to the end where her soft

Hands feel for any moment, any murmur on the line.

Lithe and small she stands and waits while the sun

Finally lost behind the edge of the day and the earth

And then gives way to early stars and a rising moon on time.

Silent air surrounds her and she might think her steady breath

Is heard by all the world, for it alone is all she hears.

Changing feet for comfort she shifts her weight and waits for not one

Moment in time, her destination is her journey and for

The time being, being timeless is what matters and that moonlight

Fills her hands and tomorrow she can exchange it for some sun.

Grant Fenton

Draft 1-  31 May 2011

The Last Day Off

THE DAY OFF

Simon is a Manager in a busy Government Department. His boss, Paul is talking to him on the phone.

SIMON:      Paul, its Simon.

PAUL:         Yes, hello Simon. How’s things? Good weekend? Janelle and you have a nice night out on Saturday night? Now what can I do for you?

SIMON:      Paul, its about Gerard..

PAUL:         Gerard? Gerard Creely? What about him?

SIMON:      I’m afraid he………….he um………………

PAUL:         Don’t tell me he’s away again?

SIMON:      Well he won’t be in I’m afraid, you see……..

PAUL:         Oh for FUCK SAKE! That’s it, I’m completely over Gerard’s attitude. Its just not good enough Simon. Just not good enough.

SIMON:      Paul, can you just hold on a minute…..Gerard died on Saturday.

PAUL:         Well I don’t care. Its one thing after another. He had a car accident in February, he was overseas at a wedding in March, the flu one week, a sick Grand mother the next, a so called heart attack last week and now you’re telling me he’s dead and won’t be in. Its just very poor form Simon. Very poor form indeed.

SIMON:      Yes, Paul, but….

PAUL:         Does he have a Doctor’s Certificate?

SIMON:      He’s dead Paul.

PAUL:         OK then. A Death Certificate? He’d better have one or else its going to be a hard road home for him I’m afraid. You know, we can’t carry people Simon. Every one has to be responsible for themselves you know. I made it in to work today. I would have like to have stayed home, but you don’t see me with a sick Grand Mother. You don’t see me dying. I came to work.

SIMON:      OK, but..

PAUL:         Where would we be if we all stayed at home and died every weekend?

                   (Long pause)

SIMON:      (Uncertain) In the ground?

PAUL:         In the ground! That’s right. In the ground! And where would McArthur Manufacturing be then Simon? It would be in the ground with us my friend. In the ground with us. That’s right.

                   So, what I want to see…..are you listening Simon? What I want to see is a death certificate on my desk first thing tomorrow morning or Gerard is going to have to reconsider his future here with us. That’s right. Reconsider.

TWO HOURS LATER SIMON IS HAVING A CONVERSATION WITH JANELLE, THE SECRETARY.

JANELLE:   So did you call his family.

PAUL:         I did. I had to leave about six messages before one of them called me back.

JANELLE:   So who called you? What did they say?

PAUL:         It was his brother Don. He told me to stick McAurthur Manufacturing up my arse and told me he was going to come around and belt fuck out me.

JANELLE:   What are you going to tell Paul?

Phone rings….

                   Hello? Yes Paul he’s here. I’ll send him in.

Simon enters Paul’s office.

PAUL:         Hi Simon. Come in. Sit down. Rough morning? I bet. I know this is hard on you. You’re a staff member down and you’re trying your best, I know, I know. You’re a trier. That’s why I like you.  So, I’ve decided that I’m going to have to let Gerard go. I know I said we could wait to get his certificate tomorrow morning, but I’m afraid his performance hasn’t been up to scratch. Bascially, he’s not a team player. That’s right. Not part of the team. So I’m going to have to let him go. I’ve drafted a letter for Janelle to type up….she can do 70 words a minute you know….That means it will take her about 3 minutes to write this letter. I count the words and then I time her to see what she can do. Amazing. You should see her little fingers go……so I’ve written the letter and that’s that. He’s gone. He’s no longer here….. (Paul makes a sign with his fingers to represent inverted commas)…IN THE GROUND!!! As you said. That’s a good one Simon. A good one. I like that analogy. I think I’ll use it at the Board meeting next week. Yes. In the ground.

SIMON:      But Paul…..Gerard really is dead. He died on Saturday.

PAUL:         Well, that aside Simon you have to admit he hasn’t been performing so I don’t think that’s really the issue. I’ve spoken to HR about it and basically if he’s not performing we can let him go.

SIMON:      But he’ll go anyway

PAUL:         Well that’s good for him. You wouldn’t want to try and hang around a place when you’re not wanted and frankly Simon, we don’t want him. He’s no longer a part of the team. He’s  (Paul makes a sign with his fingers to represent inverted commas again)…IN THE GROUND!

SIMON:      Please stop saying that Paul.

PAUL:         They’re your words Simon and good ones. They sum up the situation perfectly.

SIMON:      That’s because he’s really dead.

PAUL:         And he’s no longer part of this team. That’s right. Not part of the team. We’re a team here Simon. You, me, Janelle, Ronny the little retarded kid who licks the bags, Phil in accounting, all of us. We’re a team. Well now there’s no Gerard in that team. That’s right. No Gerard in the team.

ONE WEEK LATER

Simon knocks on Paul’s Door.

PAUL:         Come in? Oh Hi Simon. How are you? Did you have a nice weekend? Good. Glad to hear it. Come in and sit down. All friends here. Would you like a coffee? I’ve just asked Janelle to run down to the coffee shop and grab one. I can call her if you like? They make a nice Cappuccino or Latte? No?

SIMON:      I just wanted to let you know that I’ve had a phone call from Gerard’s lawyer.

PAUL:         Lawyer? You must be fucking joking? What does he want?

SIMON:      They’re suing us for unlawful dismissal.

PAUL:         They’re what?

SIMON:      Well they’re claiming that we shouldn’t have sacked him after he died.

PAUL:         Fuckem’ Simon. That’s right. Fuckem! He’s been nothing but trouble since we employed him. Away all the time, sick and dying one week, it was always something with Gerard. Always something.

SIMON:      I know Paul, but we probably shouldn’t have sacked him. He wasn’t going to come back anyway.

PAUL:         So what are they worried about? For God Sake! You can’t win can you. You try and run a business, a good business by the way. I’ve built McArthur Manufacturing up from the brink you know. From the brink!

SIMON:      I know Paul, but if you’d just left it alone he wouldn’t have come back to work and it all would have worked itself out.

PAUL:         Well I decided to work it out for him. I’m over it Simon. You don’t think I often feel pressure too? I’d love to take days off and not come in sometimes, but I can’t. Hard decisions need to be made and I make them. And when it comes to Gerard? Well I made that one too. He’s gone.

                   He’s “IN THE GROUND”.

SIMON:      Paul! Please stop saying that. Its bad enough that we have to deal with his lawyers, but when you keep saying “IN THE GROUND” it makes me feel terrible.

PAUL:         Well I don’t know why you should feel terrible Simon. They were your words. I used them at the Board Meeting yesterday and they loved it. They loved it. Loved it.

SIMON:      Well its in pretty bad taste Paul.

PAUL:         No Simon. I’ll tell you what’s in bad taste. Suing an employer who did its level best to keep Gerard on. What more could we have done. We gave him every opportunity and still nothing. 

SIMON:      Yes but…..

PAUL:         But nothing Simon. Not even a death certificate when I expressly asked for one. I can tell you the next staff newsletter will have some very interesting information about days off.

We Cannot Let You Marry (A song of unreason)

This song came to me one day after hearing someone from the Salvation Army talking about their inability to accept SAME SEX MARRIAGE. At the same time I'd been watching an old Wind In The Willows movie and listening to the character Ratty singing and playing piano in a very Noel Coward fashion. Somehow all the ingredients came together.
Keep watching, I'll be posting a recording of the song soon.

WE CANNOT LET YOU MARRY IF YOU'RE GAY

We cannot let you marry if you're Gay
You can have your pink and flaming nights
But not your special day
We won't stand in judgment
If you have sex with a rodent
But we cannot let you marry if you're Gay

We cannot let you marry if you're Bent
You can share a flat with a single room
If it helps you pay the rent
You should give your friend back his deposit
If he comes out of the closet
No we cannot let you marry if you're Bent

We cannot let you marry if you're a Dyke
You can wear overalls and shave your head
And ride a motor bike
But the pre-requisite for this job
Is one of you must have a knob
We cannot let you marry if you're a Dyke.

We cannot join together
Two girls named Sue and Heather
Or give the Bridal Watlz a whirl
Unless you are a boy and girl

We cannot let you marry if you're Queer
You can be a trucky, or a bit of a ducky
Or just a bit of a dear
You can wear pink and purple and turquoise
You can dance all night with Phillipino boys
But we cannot let you marry if you're Queer.

We cannot let you marry if you're a Queen
You be flamboyant and mince about
If you've got the gay gene
And although your genetics are in a mess
Only one of you can wear a wedding dress
We cannot let you marry if you're a Queen

We cannot let you marry
Do you Phil take you Harry
We cannot let you wed
Do you John take you Fred

We cannot let you marry if you're a Fag
You can colour your hair and paint your nails
Performing ABBA dressed in drag
But as far as boy to boy romance
Only one of you can wear the pants
We cannot let you marry if you're a Fag

We cannot let you marry if you'r a Bear
You can wax your back and crack and sack
And all of your body hair
You can lazer treat all of your pubes
You can cover yourself in flavoured lubes
But we cannot let you marry if you're a Bear.

We cannot let you marry if you're Gay
You can be a bus driver, butcher or baker
And work all night and day
You can do anything to say the least
You can even become a Catholic Priest
But we cannot let you marry ....Do you Phil take you Harry .....
We cannot let you marry if you're Gay.

Grant Fenton
JULY 2012

Inspiration? A simple question.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I was sitting at work one day when a colleague of mine asked "How do you book a pool car?"
The answer that came back across the room was "It's the same as booking a meeting room".
It crossed my mind that if you mixed the two things up that you'd have an interesting situation. So here is my take on an idea that came to me from a simple question.


THE MEETING
It was a warm mid morning, a November Thursday and five people from EIO, a medium corporate entity, were sitting in a small Toyota Corolla inside the organisations car park.
Grant sat in the driver’s seat. Next to him in the front passenger seat sat a colleague, Mike. Other colleagues sat in the back; Anna on the left passenger seat, Chris in the back right passenger seat and Andrea sat in the middle seat.
Leaning forward through the centre of the bucket seats, Chris asked “OK Grant. Where are we going to have this meeting you’ve called?”
“Here,” he replied with conviction.
“What do you mean here?” Chris asked. Mike gave off a frown and a puzzled look as if he’d misunderstood what Grant had said.
“Here in the car,” he said again with more reassurance.
“You mean we’re sitting here and meeting inside the car?” Mike asked. “When you said ‘lets meet in the car’ I assumed we were meeting in the car and you were taking us somewhere for the meeting.”
“Well there were no meeting rooms left so I booked a car instead. The cars were all free and I couldn’t think where else the five us could sit and talk,” Grant replied with some indignation.
Anna, who had suddenly zoned into the conversation hurriedly, asked “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere!” said Mike turning his head and shaking it in disbelief at the same time.
“This is crazy Grant. We’re going to sit in the car and have a meeting?” asked Chris again with a tone of disbelief.
“Is the meeting cancelled?” continued Anna.
“No,” replied Grant turning to Anna and then back to Mike, trying to address the two conversations at once. “I had no option Mike. So we can sit here arguing about whether it’s a bad idea or not and get nothing done, or we can forge ahead and have the meeting.
Mike raised his eyebrows and looked up thoughtfully allowing his bottom lip to protrude. “Well who’s chairing the meeting?” Mike began, “because if we’re going to have it, we should start now”.
“You should Mike. You’ve chaired the last three so you should continue,” Grant replied.
“Well I should sit in the driver’s seat then” Mike said using a tone of quiet indignation.
“Why?” Grant asked.
“Well the driver’s seat is the one who’s in charge of the car and I’m in charge of the meeting so I should sit in the front,” Mike replied.
“Yes, but I’ve booked the car so I am responsible for it so I have to be the driver,” Grant announced.
“But…..we’re not going anywhere,” said Anna still trying to understand the concept.
Andrea, who was also sitting in the back seat, looked at Anna.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“You don’t sit at the head of the table when you book a meeting room do you? Its not like you’re responsible for the table?” said Mike.
“Nowhere,” said Anna to Andrea. There were now two conversations overlapping in Grant’s ears
“It’s not a bad idea though,” Chris said. “Maybe we should consider that”.
“Who’s in charge of what?” asked Andrea.
Grant moved in his seat to turn and look at Chris.
“I agree,” he said. “Let’s minute that. I’ll move that we should consider that the person booking a meeting room should sit at the head of the table.”
Suddenly a muffled noise, like a voice inside a distant room had called out. Then came a soft knocking from the boot of the car and everyone fell silent.
“What’s that?” asked Andrea.
“That’s Byron,” replied Grant. “He’s in the boot…………..he’s taking minutes”.
"Hi Byron,” everyone called.
“Can we have the radio on?” asked Anna.
“No Anna,” said Mike with a frustrated tone. “This is a meeting not a road trip.”
Grant put his head out the window and turned it upwards so that he could be heard at the back of the car.
“Byron?” he called, pausing to listen. “Byron? We’re going to start now Byron. Did you get that last point?
“RMmmmphooo,” came the reply.
Grant put his head back in the window. “Mike would you like to second that motion?”
“I think we should discuss that another time, Mike said. “We’re here to talk about another issue at the moment so lets just focus on that shall we.”
“Fair enough Mike,” said Grant putting his head back out the window. “Byron?” Grant paused. “Byron?”
“Mmmpppphhhh?” replied the muffled Byron.
“We’re going to discuss that point another time,” Grant shouted.
“Rmmmpho!” replied Byron.
“Can I have the air conditioner on?” Andrea asked. “It’s so hot in here.”
Grant fidgeted with his trousers and leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs and wriggling.
“Sorry Andrea I can’t,” he said. “I’ve got the keys in my pocket. I’d have to take my seatbelt off and get out to get them again.”
“Why have you got your seat belt on,” Mike asked. “We’re not going anywhere.”
“Mike,” said Grant with some conviction. “Need I remind you about the car booking procedure and policy? You know as well as I do that it clearly states that the driver of any EIO vehicle must put their seat-belt on before starting the car”.
“But……………… you weren’t going to start the car………..were you?” asked Andrea.
“No Andrea,” Grant snapped. “I wasn’t. And that’s why they are in my pocket and why you can’t have the air conditioner on.”
“If we were in a meeting room we’d be able to put the air conditioner on,” said Chris.
Everyone agreed and ‘yessed’ and called out ‘that’s right’.
“Look!” shouted Grant, clutching the steering wheel with his hands. “I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s the best I could do at short notice and I know it’s not quite the same as a meeting room, but lets focus shall we people!”
There was silence for about thirty seconds.
“Could we at least roll the windows in the back down?” Andrea asked. “Right!” Grant shouted. With that he released his seat belt and opened the door and stood up out of the car and retrieved the car keys from his pocket. He returned to the car and turned the ignition on so that the air conditioner would work. In the boot, Byron started to knock and call out. “Hmmmmph? Hmmmmph?” he called.
Grant revved the motor. “It’s alright Byron, we’re just getting the air conditioner working” he shouted above the noise of the car engine.
Suddenly the windscreen wipers moved across the front windscreen making the screeching sound of dry rubber on dry glass. Startled, Grant tried to turn them off, however he only managed to make them go faster.
“How do these stupid things work,” he muttered.
“Turn them the other way,” called Chris from the back seat.
“I don’t think that air conditioner is working,” said Andrea. “It’s still hot in here”.
“Not that way,” called Chris. “Try turning them back towards you.”
Grant fiddled with the lever but still the wind screen wipers screeched.
“Mmmmpphhh??? Mmmmmmmmmmphh!!!???”
“Shut up Byron!” yelled Grant as he tried to get the wipers to stop.
“Let me have a go” said Mike leaning across from his seat. Mike lifted himself up to try and reach across the steering wheel and banged his eye against the rear view mirror. He let out a loud ‘ouch’.
“Mmmmmphhhhh!!!!!!! Mmmmmmmmmmmmphhhhhhh!!!!!!!” called Byron.
“Byron! Shut up. You’re only supposed to take Minutes. The meeting hasn’t started yet” called Grant, angrily pulling at the levers on the steering column. Suddenly the car’s lights came on and the wipers continued to screech. Mike was rocking back and forth in the front seat with his hand clutching at his eye.
"Mmmmmmmpphhhh!!” called Byron again.
“For God’s sake, you’d better let Byron out of the boot,” Anna called.
Grant leant down to grab the lever which released the lock on the boot. Suddenly his seat surged forward and he became pinned between the steering wheel and the seat which had reached the pinnacle of its forward position. His head had become lodged in the steering wheel and his chin pressed down on the car horn which sounded off every time he struggled to release himself.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmppphhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” called Byron.
“That’s it,” said Chris. “I’m getting out of here,” and she reached to open the back door only to find that the child-safety locks were active and she and Anna on the other side of the car and Andrea in the middle and Mike in the front, were all locked in the car.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmphhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!” called Byron.
“I want to get out. Why can’t we get out?” Andrea said in a panic struck voice.
“Grant?” Anna called. “Can you reach the safety lock button?”
“Where is it?” Grant gasped his chest and face compressed into the same place.
“I don’t know?” Anna replied. “This is a company car. I have no idea”.
“Mike!” called Chris excitedly. “Open the glove box and get the manual out and check where the safety locks are. Mike fiddled at the glove box.
“I can’t,” Mike replied, tears streaming out of his right eye. “The glove box is locked. I’ll need the key out of the ignition to unlock it. Grant?” Mike continued.  “Reach down and take the keys out of the ignition and pass them to me,” Mike said.
Grant fumbled around feeling for the key and turned the ignition off. The windscreen wipers stopped and all was quiet except the sound of Grant gasping as he struggled with the key.
“It won’t come out” he said in a frustrated voice.
“What do you mean it won’t come out?” asked Andrea in an anxious voice.
“You have to put the steering wheel on lock” Mike said.
“I have to what?” Grant asked.
“Put the steering wheel on lock. Turn the wheel anti-clockwise until it locks and the key will come out”.
“I can’t,” Grant said exasperated. “My head is stuck in it. I can’t move!”
“You have to,” pleaded Anna. “Otherwise we’ll all be stuck in this bloody car”.
Grant manoeuvred his body, turning the wheel to the left. “Are you sure it’s anti-clockwise?”
"Yes!!!” they all screamed.
With that, Grant gave the wheel and his connected neck and head a mighty turn, bringing his buttocks up off the seat and hard against the driver’s side door and with a great groan the steering wheel snapped into its locked position.
A collective sigh came over the car and then for a moment, silence.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmpphhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” came a call from the boot.
“OK Grant,” Mike said in a calming voice. “Reach around and grab the key out of the ignition.
Grant fumbled. Everyone held their breath.
“Mmmmpphhhh???” called Byron.
"Shhhhhhhh!!!!!” came a group call from inside the car.
Grant continued to fumble.
“I can’t….” his breathing was heavy now…… “reach it”. Then he stopped and slumped. “I can’t reach it!” he called in resignation. “I can’t................... reach it!!!”
“What do you mean you can’t reach it,” protested Andrea.
“Try again Grant. I need to use the bathroom,” cried Anna.
Grant was sounding desperate now. “I can’t. I can’t. I’ve tried and I can’t get my hand around the steering column”.
“OK. Everybody stay calm,” Mike said in a voice that hinted of elevated anxiety. “Now Grant, I’m going to reach underneath you and try to find the key and pull it out”.
“Just take it easy Mike,” protested Grant who was not partial to being touched by other men. “You know I don’t like it when blokes touch other blokes.”
“It’s alright Grant,” Mike said reassuringly. “I’m just going to…..” and with that Mike lifted himself off his seat and stretched his arm underneath the steering column.
“Hey!” Grant called and flinched as Mike’s arm brushed against him. As he flinched, his left arm knocked Mike’s head down onto the gear stick, poking Mike in the other eye. Mike gave out an enormous cry and lurched back in his seat. Chris, who had been leaning over the back seat to try and see what was happening, was suddenly struck in the forehead by the back of Mike’s lurching head. In agony she lifted her head up, fell backwards, striking the crown of her head on the inside of the roof of the car. As she fell she stretched her arm out across the back seat, striking Andrea in the face with her clenched fist. Andrea’s chin lifted in reaction to the knock and the back of her head struck Anna’s nose who in turn screamed in pain.

Meanwhile, through frustration and anger Mike had lashed out, punching the dash board with his fist which in turn released the safety airbag, engulfing Mike’s face in a massive explosion of white.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmpppphhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” came the call from the boot of the car and with that, the car alarm sounded and car horn commenced to go off every
There they sat. Chris, clutching her forehead; Anna holding her nose; Andrea cradling her face; Mike hidden behind a giant white air bag, his hands over both tightly clenched and watering eyes and Grant with his head stuck in the steering wheel and his body wedged against the driver’s side door, each of them giving out their own calls of pain and anguish.
Suddenly, the driver’s door was flung open. There standing on the outside of the car was the group’s saviour, Lindsay the CEO’s assistant. “My God!” Lindsay exclaimed. “What is going on here?”
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmpppphhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” called Bryon from the boot.

THREE HOURS LATER

Anna sat with a red nose and watery red eyes, looking like a girl who had been crying all morning. Chris sat with an ice-pack on the top of her head. Andrea had a swollen left cheek and occasionally gently touched her face as if to check that it hadn’t developed into a larger mound of painful flesh. Mike sat with one eye slightly closed and the other still running with tears. Every so often he dabbed a tissue against his eye to allow him a moment of water free site. Grant sat with his head leaning toward his left shoulder, grimacing from the stiff pain his neck was experiencing. A waiter delivered a tray filled with coffee and iced water. No one spoke until Grant said very sheepishly, “we probably should have had the meeting here”. Everyone silently nodded, glancing at each other in agreement and sipped at their coffee. Time went on and everyone was silent until Chris looked up and asked………………”Where’s Byron?”