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"Like Your Work, Love Your Wife" (765 hits)

Category: Quotes & Stories

Rating: 1.86 on 17 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Labels:

Submitted by Trout (View user info) at 2004-03-16 11:28:14 EST


Sunny afternoons and a lack of work often lead to a thirst for alcohol.
The kind of thirst that makes grown men do very silly things...........and quote John Candy.

This is one such tale.

Myself and three colleagues, were sitting in the park eating our lunchtime sandwiches. The usual fare of bright orange cheddar with pickle or ham and dangerously luminous yellow mustard was being munched down in solemn silence.

The park had seen better days, the man-made duck pond had long since been drained. Where the ducks actually went was unknown but there was a rumour that the spate of offers on crispy duck at the Chinese restaurants may provide the answer. The shallow concrete bowl that was left would probably be of some use to skateboarders if it wasn't for the fact that the local council done a whole lot of fuck all after draining it, leaving moss and mildew and duck shit and gunge and mud and all sorts of assorted rubbish caked to bottom of the "pond", rendering it pretty much usual to anyone that drank less than a case of pepsi-max a day.


"This is really fucking pish" moaned Stu, the youngest of the bunch but the one most fond of a sneaky drink.

"Aye, but at least the sun's out" I replied. Being a native of Scotland it wasn't often I made that remark.

"True, it's fucking roastin' but what good's that when we need to go back to work in fifteen minutes?" muttered Jim.


Jim was a good lad with a habit of falling asleep after a few drinks, no matter where he was or what was happening around him. He also had the surname Aiken which caused much confusion one night when Stu staggered into the pub claiming he'd been drinking all day with "Jim Aiken".
Since he was suitably refreshed the slur on his speech meant everyone assumed he'd been drinking with a Jamaican. The first time the rest of us met Jim we were disappointed to find out that apart from his fondness for herb he was about as un-Jamaican as one could possibly get.

Then Big D who got his nickname in time honoured tradition by being small, piped up:
"We could go back to work, or we could just get a carry out from the shop over the road, get pissed then worry about work tomorrow. In fact we've got hardly anything on, I'll run back to work and ask the boss if we can get the afternoon off and you guys get the booze. Meet you at the tennis courts in half an hour"

I immediately saw the flaw.
"But what if you do that and the boss says no, then we're fucked. I reckon we just skip work and tell him we saw a mugging and ran after the guy and there was a fight, and then we all had to go the police station to give statements then the hospital to get checked out."

Big D gave me a look that I usually reserve for the mentally enfeebled and shop assistants, "I'll go back and speak to the boss, get the beers in"

Jim, Stu and myself repaired to the shop to buy the provisions.
Beer, cider, snouts and for some reason a couple bottles of martini bianco (why I cannot say) were all bought, and Stu stole a half bottle of vodka.

We got to the tennis courts. Big D was already waiting for us.
"Let the games begin, boss said since it was a nice day and it's quite we can have the afternoon off, but to make sure we were in tomorrow morning and functioning"

"Well, we'll worry about that tomorrow. Here's to alcoholism" I said opening my first but certainly not last beer of the day.

"And here's to cancer" crowed Jim, unwrapping a pack of filterless Camels.

A couple of hours later we were drunk but in need of adventure. We set off for a wander. After Big D almost got ran down we decided to stay away from the main roads and stick to the back streets. We walked up past the hotel and headed for the nunnery. It was always quiet up there.

Stu turned the corner first. "Holy fuck, you'll never guess what I've found".

"God?" I replied, being as always, sharp but not funny.

"No, a workies hut".

A workies hut. A marvel of days gone by. Workmen were digging up the road beside the nunnery and, probably due to the clement weather, had buggered off leaving their hut behind.

It's not a hut as such, more like a tent. basically a skeletal wooden and tarpaulin structure assembled by workmen that serves two purposes. The first is to keep the rain off them when they are digging a hole, the second is to allow them some place to sit out of the rain and have their tea/fag breaks, which explains the little benches they build into them.

We set up camp in the hut/tent and sat their for a while smoking our cigarettes and drinking what was left of our booze rations. We talked about what we usually talked about, sport. Sitting in that tent we were the greatest sportsmen ever assembled...........in our minds.

"Come on" said Big D, "let's go back to the park and see if we can steal a ball of some kid"

"I suppose" I replied, "but we're taking the hut with us"

Everyone agreed. We stood up and all lifted a corner of the hut each, still inside the hut. We walked along the street looking like some kind of fucked up dougall from the magic roundabout.

Since I was on the back left corner with the door flapping to the right, I could see the incredulous looks of the drivers at the traffic lights as a walking tent had an arm burst through it's side and press the button to stop them.
We casually walked across the road and into the park.

Sitting there in the park again, sadly bereft of any thieving opportunities for the sports enthusiast we smoked the last of our tabs.

"Anyone fancy chumming me to the shop and I'll get us more drink" I asked.
Stu said he'd come along and so off we went to try and find provisions to bolster our already quite significant inebriation.

As we left the park we passed a couple of police officers on their way into the park.


"Alright lads, know anything about a stolen tent? A workman's hut? It was seen heading in this direction" said the first officer.


It was time to think fast, they'd know we were drunk. They'd know that the m.o. of tent thieves involved drunkenness, we needed an alibi which would explain the reason we were drunk, during the day and in the area of the crime.


"A tent officer? Don't know anything about that we've been in the pub across the way. Afternoon off work." said Stu. That was us surely off the hook.

But unfortunately Stu was no match for the second officer who asked the killer question
"and where are you going now boys?"


"Eh, we're going to the, eh, ", Stu was hesitating "the nunnery".

"The nunnery....".

We didn't know what the rest of the sentence consisted off, as we ran.
The logic of a drunk was strong in us.
We outran the officers back to the tent. They weren't the youngest policemen and were both carrying a bit of extra weight. This gave us a very slight advantage.


"POLICE" we shouted as we approached the tent. The police luke-warm on our heels.


Two heads emerged from the tent.
Jim darted out the tent first and ran towards the shopping mall, Stu diverted his run to follow.
Big D came out and took one look at the policemen and then done something really stupid.
He ran at them, shouting.

"Like your work, love your wife. Fuck you, you John Candy hating mother fuckers"

As he neared them officer one took out his truncheon and hit him squarely across the knees.
He went down with a yell. It was over for him, officer two was on top of him handcuffing him as officer one radioed for backup.

What to do? Well, Big D was fucked. Why he shouted a John Candy phrase I didn't know. What was more puzzling was why he thought two policemen chasing myself and Stu were disparaging the Saturday Night Live stalwart. But this wasn't helping my situation. I ran down the hill to the left of the direction where Jim and Stu had scampered. The policemen just stayed where they were. They must have assumed that their radioed colleagues would finish the job.

This gave me ample time to get up and over a hillock and compose myself. I casually walked down the street and into a taxi. Safe. I took it to Stu's house and sat on his back step awaiting his arrival.
Eventually he appeared, sporting a big black dot on his forehead.


"Stopped off to become a Hindu did you" I remarked.

"No, it was Jim, he went fucking mental" he replied completely oblivious to my non-joke joke, bastard.

"I followed him all the way into the mall, and he ran into Virgin. He tried to chat up this girl behind the counter, you know the one with all the piercings. She told him to fuck off so he asked if she'd like him more if he had a fucked up face. Then he grabbed a marker pen from behind the counter and scrawled all over his face. I tried to stop him but he just hit me on the head with it, nib first hence the bloody big dot. So obviously the security guard came across. Jim punched him and then started throwing CD's about"

"Holy fuck" I muttered, "so did you just run out then?"

"Well, the security got up and he started throwing cd boxes back at him. They were both doing this and all the while Jim was shouting 'like your work, love your wife', once the police turned up I just sidled on out and came here"


I then told Stu about Big D also shouting the Candy catchphrase.
Fuck knows what they were talking about (or more than likely taking) when we left them alone in the tent but it seemed like we were well out of it. We decided the best course of action was to leave them to their stupidity and hope they turned up at work the next day.

When Big D and Jim eventually did turn up at work the next day after their incarceration (luckily they got off with drunk and disorderly charges) they said that neither of them could remember anything after Stu and I left the tent on the second beer run.

"I kinda remember talking about Planes, Trains and Automobiles - don't know why, I hate that film and the fat guy in it, what's his name again?" said Big D.

"John Candy. Derek, his name's John Candy, and you know something?"

"What" said Big D.

"You're a fucking nutter"
-------------------------------------------------
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User Reviews


Submitted by deano (user info) at 2004-03-29 10:26:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

yuuus aeeer allll fockin meeeental.

lovd et!

Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2004-03-19 12:57:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Scots? Drinking? No fucking way!



Submitted by The_taste_of_Monkeys (user info) at 2004-03-17 07:38:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

"Stopped off to become a Hindu did you" I remarked.
heh heh heh.

This sounds like a typical Scottish day off work. Trout, I salute you.

Submitted by Walrus_King (user info) at 2004-03-16 17:48:17 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Good story

----------
'awesome story...
i liked the fact that you wrote it in your own "dialect" of english... '
----------

Now how the fuck can you say our own dialect of English, we spawned the bastard language.


Submitted by Phinch (user info) at 2004-03-16 14:51:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Brits talk funny.

Submitted by Ainkara (user info) at 2004-03-16 14:02:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by PukingDog (user info) at 2004-03-16 13:36:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Good job.

Submitted by chipolatte (user info) at 2004-03-16 13:22:32 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Pretty good.

Submitted by William_Q_Percy (user info) at 2004-03-16 13:04:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

People who have signatures on their reviews suck

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V

Submitted by w00twhat (user info) at 2004-03-16 12:38:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

awesome story...
i liked the fact that you wrote it in your own "dialect" of english...

i'm from the states, and this was really really good :)

thanx for playin',
w00t! what?

Submitted by shitfuck (user info) at 2004-03-16 12:17:08 EST (#)
Ranking: -2

Pure fucking bullshit. A total waste of time. You are talentless and unimaginative to say the least.


Submitted by freebie (user info) at 2004-03-16 12:10:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 1

A little long but well worth the effort.

Submitted by dohnuts (user info) at 2004-03-16 11:59:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Beautiful.

Submitted by heyzues (user info) at 2004-03-16 11:47:44 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by Sideburns (user info) at 2004-03-16 11:39:11 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by rbdweasel (user info) at 2004-03-16 11:38:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 1

Humorous story and well crafted. A pleasure to read even with my short Internet attention span.

Submitted by Trout (user info) at 2004-03-16 11:28:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 0

WTF IM NOT READING ALL THAT


Look, Marge, I'm sorry I haven't been a better husband, I'm sorry
about the time I tried to make gravy in the bathtub, I'm sorry I used
your wedding dress to wax the car, and I'm sorry -- oh well, let's
just say I'm sorry for the whole marriage up to this point.

-- Homer Simpson
Marge on the Lam