Cupid of 16 Albion Street
When I was at university one of my housemates developed a severe crush on our next door neighbour. But my mate was shy, painfully so. He badgered me to go and knock next door and lay the foundations: “My mate really likes you,” your typical teenage-angst sort of stuff. He even gave me a rose to pass on. Fuck me, I was too old for this...

Anyway, I did it. Just to get a quiet life. “John likes you,” I said, handing over the rose.

“John likes me?” Sounding a little confused.

“Yeah, John really, really, really likes you – you know, the little fella I live with. Short. Blonde. Got a posh accent. Did I say he was short? Almost a dwarf, actually... Well, he likes you.”

And then I turn on my heel and fuck off home.

“Did you do it?” my mate John asked when I returned.

“Yeah, I did it,” I said. “Felt like a fucking moron, but there you go – you officially owe me a pint.”

John did a little dance of joy, clapping his hands in glee.

Later, as my housemates and I were heading out the door in search of a place that sold fizzy hops n barley falling down water, we heard the front door to our neighbour fling open violently: “What the fuck do you think I want a fucking rose from you for? What is your fucking problem?” My mate John cowered behind me. “Fucking leave me alone you sick, sick, sick cunt! If I see you so much as look in my direction I’ll fucking punch you out!” SLAM!!!

“Err, Spanky,” said John. “When I said next door I meant the cute girl on my engineering course who lives at number fourteen... Not the psycho ex Manchester middleweight boxing champ with the glass eye who lives at number eighteen...”
( SpankyHanky, Tue 6 Oct 2009, 11:08, 1 reply)

Very nicely done
*Click*
(NuffMuff fucks shrubbery, Tue 6 Oct 2009, 11:55, closed)