Here
is a flash history course for you.
Pompeii
was a Roman city. It was completely covered by a pyroclastic lava flow in the
year 79AD. One-thousand-seven-hundred years later, someone found unusual
air-spaces in the condensed lava. The spaces happened to be the only earthly
remains of the unlucky Pompeian residents, who died when the lava hit. Some
clever-clogs filled the spaces with plaster, and when it hardened, they
produced near perfect replicas of people in the moments they perished.
Some
of these casts are on show in the Garden of Fugitives, which is where you can
find me. So, day after day, people shuffle past me, taking snaps of my
nakedness to bring home to the kids. It pisses me off.
Today,
I was standing around, like I do, when a bunch of day trippers appeared.
Tagging on to the end of the line were two girls, (and I am being generous with
that description), who looked like they’d just been thrown out of a night club.
"This
is boring, Trish, can we go?" said the blonde one with the over-sized
sunglasses and the undersized hot pants.
"I
paid twenty-five euro for this bloody trip, there had better be a wine bar
soon," said her friend, who was clearly hung-over and having difficulty
walking in her cheap flip-flops.
"Trish,
would you look at that one," said Blondie, pointing directly at me.
"Ugly
little fucker, ain't he," said Flip-flop, chewing gum like a ruminating
cow.
“He
looks like he’s taking a hard dump," said flip-flop, who clearly thought
she was hilarious. The blonde one snorted a laugh, saying, "Hard dump,
good one Trish."
What
a pair of geniuses, NOT!!
By
this time, the rest of the group had moved on, leaving just Blondie and
Flip-flop in the garden. Flip-flop searched her handbag, pulling out a phone.
"Jump over the rope and I’ll take a picture."
Please,
no!
"It
says, Do not cross,” said Blondie, pointing at the sign hanging from the
guard chain.
It’s
amazing. She actually could read.
"Feck
it, go on," said Flip-flop.
Faced
with such blinding logic, who could argue? Clearly not Blondie, who stepped
over the chain, nearly splitting the seat of her hot pants in the process. She
bent down and put her arm around my shoulder, the smell of vanilla perfume
would have knocked me over if I weren’t made out of stone. Flip-flop snapped
off a few shots.
"Grab
him by the micky, Sarah."
"Jesus,
I can't," said Blondie, in mock horror.
You
better not.
"Go
on Sarah, you've played with mickys older than that one before."
"Mucky
cow!" countered Blondie, but shockingly her head vanished between my legs.
Seriously,
get away from my penis!
"It's
bloody tiny," said Blondie, grabbing a handful of my crotch.
"Give
it a rub and see what happens," laughed Flip-flop. Then, with a snorting laugh,
the blonde moron started to vigorously rub my ding-ding.
Flip-flop
nearly dropped the camera she was laughing so hard, but I didn't find it one
bit funny.
I
warned you!
"It's
starting to get hot." said Blondie, not laughing now.
"Are
you surprised, Sarah? You could start a fire rubbing it that hard. No wonder
you can’t keep a boyfriend for more than five minutes.” Blondie pulled her
hand away from my crotch but kept the other one on my back.
"No,
I mean it's getting really hot, have a feel," she said, and then did the
exact thing she shouldn't. She grabbed my penis again.
When
I caught her hand and pulled it away from my nether regions, she screamed. When
I spoke, her eyes rolled back in her head, and Flip-flop fell on her ass. Seeing
as I'd started, I did what a demon does best, and flash fried the two of them.
The smell of charred skin hung over Pompeii once more and I was forced to
scuttle back to the underworld.
So, there you have
it, the story of how my holiday was ruined. The boss has actually barred me
from going back to Italy anytime this millennium, and there's not that many
places a little stone demon like myself can go unnoticed. Bloody tourists.
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