“Oh I don’t know about Twitter, doesn’t it turn you gay and make all your pets die?” I had been avoiding “Tweeting” for like, ever.
Yasmin replied “No silly, of course it won’t…you have to get into the 21st Century of you want to get famous for being famous”.
“Hmmmm, if you say it’s Ok then I’ll open an account…but God help you if you’re lying to me…I still haven’t got over what happened when my ex-girlfriend made me open a Tumblr account.”
“Oh yes, LOL, I saw those pics…must say…you look good in a dress” I could feel her smirk right across seven times zones and a hemisphere.
“Fuck you ;-0” I used the emoticon to make sure she knew it was “jokes”.
“Fuck you too, now get tweeting!”
“Lol, I gotta go, the dogs are scratching at the door” They really were, my three Red Setters were house trained but I had to keep up my end of the Pavlovian transaction.
I signed off from facebook and let the dogs out into the cool evening air. Somewhere in the bush at the front of the house an Owl was hooting, the occasional unseen and unidentified large furry thing crashed around amongst the trees and bushes off to the left of the house.
Scamp, Tramp and Champ raced about in the gloom, after a hard day’s lazing around in the shade, drooling and sleeping, they had energy to burn. I smoked the day’s last cigarette as I sat on a log and downloaded the Twitter App onto my phone.
The act of downloading an App made me shudder, I felt violated as the 21st Century crept into my life despite my best efforts at keeping it away.
Presently the dogs returned to me and we made our way down the gravel path, between the roses, into the warm glow of the lounge. I fed the dogs and retired early to bed with my laptop, a glass of red wine and started Tweeting.
“This is @TimG signing in to twitter OMG I have nothing to say!”
Not an auspicious start but as I, selected people to follow and tracked down a few friends who were old hands at tweeting, the replies started to appear.
“@YasminGoodHeart Lol TimG, when have you ever been lost for words?”
And so it went, long into the night until I began to tire of speaking but still saying nothing. The experience was as vacuous as I had suspected it would be. The upside was that my name and profile were getting out there and that meant I might get my career out of the doldrums.
I woke late and went to give the dogs their breakfast but they had other priorities, crapping on the lawn for one!
As the front door opened they barged out as if someone had let slip the dogs of war. The three of them headed across the dew-laden grass, a thrashing mass of red fur and wagging tails…they spied a squirrel and all thoughts of crapping on the lawn were put on hold.
Laughing, I turned back into the wood-panelled kitchen to make my morning toast and coffee.
Off in the distance I heard a terrible commotion and assumed the dogs had bailed the squirrel up in a tree. Ignoring it I turned on the radio to catch the morning news.
“Residents of Comely-in-the marsh are being advised to stay indoors and upstairs if possible, following the escape of a male Lion from Comely Grange Wildlife Park last night”.
Coffee hit the fireplace as I spat it out in surprise, locked the front door and ran upstairs to call the dogs…the wildlife park was only two miles from my house!
Leaning out of the upstairs bedroom window I called the dogs “Scamp! Tramp! Champ!!!”
I whistled and made a racket with their favourite squeaky toys.
I tried the spare bedroom as it was nearer where I had heard the commotion coming from.
“Scaaaamp!!! Traaaamp!! Chaaamp!!! Where the FUCK are you????”
“ROOOOAAAAARRRRRRRR!!!!!” My blood froze, the unearthly noise was unmistakable.
Straining over the window ledge I caught a glimpse of something large, sandy coloured fur, huge feet. I struggled to get back inside the room, ran into the main bedroom and took in an appalling sight on the front lawn.
This huge Lion, blood staining his mane, was dragging the limp carcass of one of my dogs.
My world fell apart but it wasn’t the time to be sad. I got mad, very mad, so mad that I ran to the gun cabinet, grabbed my 3 inch choke shotgun and loaded it with what my brother would have called “a typical anti-zombie round” there were some big fuck-off lumps of lead in there.
Angry beyond all reason I went back to the window and yelled at the Lion “Hey mother fucker, eat leaden death you bastard!!”
The Lion turned towards me with a malevolent expression on his face; I took aim and pulled the trigger.
I had the choke adjusted for maximum harm and the recoil nearly took me off my feet. When the smoke cleared I saw a wounded and very pissed off Lion shaking its head as if to clear the daze from a good left hook. The Lion trotted towards the house and barged at the front door.
“Crash!” Fuck me sideways, it was in the house!
Grabbing more shotgun shells and a skinning knife for good measure, I barricaded the bedroom door with the chest of drawers but didn’t feel it would do anything except slow him down a bit, hopefully enough to give me time to shoot the beast fully in the chest with some very large shot.
A noise outside distracted me, it was Champ and Scamp! Bloody but unbowed they came charging across the lawn, barking like the Valkyries were on their tails.
“No boys; don’t come home RUN!!” I yelled at the top of my voice while keeping half an eye on the bedroom door, expecting a big sandy paw to come crashing through it at any minute.
They either didn’t hear or didn’t care. Those brave boys headed straight for the broken front door with revenge in their hearts.
The Lion must have heard them and turned to face his attackers, both sides met in a clash of fur, blood, barking and general violence.
“Go on boys! Have the fucker!” I cheered them on while hoping that my initial hit with the shotgun had weakened the Lion somewhat.
My optimism didn’t last long.
Champ and Scamp were gutsy fighters and they went straight for the neck, Champ on the Lion’s back and Scamp in between his legs but it was an uneven struggle.
Once the Lion had got his bearings in the melee he lashed out at Scamp breaking his neck with one swipe. Arching and twirling, like a dog chasing his own tail, the Lion flicked Champ off his back and onto the lawn.
He pressed home the attack and clamped his massive jaws around the poor dog’s windpipe.
This gave me an opening, while the Lion waited for Champ to expire I took aim and let fly with both barrels. This time I really did get knocked off my feet, both barrels, full choke and a huge load in the shells is a lot to cope with when you are in a panic situation.
Back on my feet again, I looked out onto the lawn and saw a trail of blood leading to the front door. Champ was dead and the bastard Lion was still on my case.
I sat on the bed, facing the door with the shotgun, loaded, on my lap. I considered phoning the police but thought it best to stay focussed as I was expecting the Lion to come charging up the stairs at any minute.
He didn’t disappoint, after a few minutes of knocking things over in the lounge and kitchen he caught my scent and came lumbering up the stairs.
I could tell from his laboured breathing and irregular footfall that he was wounded. I didn’t get to see where my second shot had got him but I know my aim, he took a fair packet of lead in the side and he would be hurting.
He wasn’t dead though and as he climbed the stairs I became acutely aware that my next shot would have to be the coup de grace or I was history... it wouldn’t be a swift end, most likely it would be a horrible and grisly death.
Putting such thoughts to the back of my mind, I took a deep breath, said a quick prayer and got ready to meet my fate.
Oddly enough, knowing that potential death was the thickness of a door away made me feel very calm… If this was it then I was ready.
A curious snuffling and scratching came from the landing at the top of the stairs. He knew where I was and now it all depended on whether he had the strength left to take down the flimsy, hardboard door.
I cocked the shotgun, I had 3 shells in the magazine and I could fire the two in the breech both at once. I wondered if I would have the time to fire them singly and if this would give me a better chance at killing the beast.
The answer was soon upon us both.
Time stood still, the clock ticked, the world around me slipped out of focus as adrenaline gave me tunnel vision.
“Crash!” The Lion still had the energy to break down the door. He looked at me through the hole he had made, he was breathing heavily and soaked with blood. For a split second we eyeballed each other, trying to get the measure of the opponent.
Autopilot took over; I stood up, took a couple of paces toward the door yelling “Diiiiiiieeeeee!!!” and virtually rammed the gun down his throat.
“Boom!” I pulled only one trigger and the shot blew out the base of his skull. The Lion sagged and I fired again, right into his left eye…”Boom!”
The recoil sprained my wrist knocking me off balance. I staggered back from the doorway.
Through the haze of smoke I saw a big hole in the door and no Lion.
I sank to the floor in a heap.
In the distance I heard sirens, they were heading my way.
Two days later I was recovering from the ordeal. The house looked like shit, blood, shotgun blasts, broken furniture and smashed doors. I decided I needed help to put it all back straight again and dialled “Hire a Hubby”.
The “Hubby” arrived the next day and started cleaning up the place. Over the next few days we got on really well together but I kept finding myself looking at his strong, tanned legs. He was wearing rather short, shorts and when he moved or bent down in such a way as to reveal the softer, less tanned upper reaches of his thighs I felt urges that I had never felt before…and got a huge erection into the bargain.
One the night of the second day I lay in bed, naked, hugely erect and full of lust for the “Hubby”. I resisted the urge to masturbate because I enjoyed the surging feelings of lust and it took my mind off the dreadful fate that befell my poor dogs.
Thursday was the last day of “Hubby’s” hire. He turned up with a new front door and as I helped him hang it I wondered if the waves of sexual excitement I was feeling were tangible.
“You’ve done an amazing job of that front door” I told him.
“I’m pretty good with back doors too…if you get my drift” he fixed me with a look that was both quizzical and inviting.
“Mine could do with a good lube” I found myself saying.
We raced upstairs, leaving a trail of clothes behind us.
“It’s my first time” I told him, “until yesterday I was a straight guy.”
He ran his hand down my quivering belly and grasped my cock.
“That makes it all the more fun” he leant towards me and kissed me passionately.
After an afternoon of searingly exciting sex I lay naked in my bed with my phone in my hand. As I replayed in my mind the moment when he parted my legs and, facing me as per the missionary position, entered me.
The memory of it nearly made me come. It was so exciting, being lifted up, feeling his hot, hard member parting my anus and gently, slowly pushing the walls of my arse apart and sliding inside me.
I recalled how I felt round beneath me and grabbed his manhood, easing him into me as I relaxed and then shot my load across my belly. I felt him shuddering inside me as he lost all control and filled me with his spunk.
Suddenly I remembered a recent conversation with Yasmin and sent her a Tweet.
“@YasminGoodHeart. Lol. Seems I was right about Twitter. Missing the dogs badly but something new is filling the hole in my life right now ;-)”
Be careful what you say boys and girls; you never know when it might come back and bite you on the arse.