Something strange has happened in the house of Scurvy. There’s an unknown presence, entity, body in the house that’s not recognised. I scamper downstairs like Hyacinth Bucket, eager to put a face to the voice and welcome the latest voyager to the house. But Burty’s door is shut…
Interesting…
Burty’s been on dating apps lately and my detective skills deduce that the Gimli sized high heels by the front door belong to a female. The plot thickens…
We normally have procedures and protocols put in place for such events; we’re passed the days of socks on doors. In such events, we tend to keep out of the way and just hold a cautiousness and awareness when veering around the houses. As such, I was committed to upholding the cause and giving Burty the time and space he needed with his new future wife.
After a few hours, I could hear Burty’s bedroom door drag open against the carpet from the kitchen followed by incoming footsteps descending the stairs. I sat and turned, ears pruned and eyes wide for the reveal. But it was a Burty.
He came around the corner, glowing and twirling his dressing gown belt like Mr. Monopoly basking in his moment. Not only was he clearly in a state of euphoria, but it was Saturday; a rare treat for Burty to have a day off. On rare occasions like this, Burty likes to do something a bit naughty. It’s a bit like when you go on holiday and its acceptable to have a pint at the airport once you’re through security at 5.00am. The cherry on this cheery, devil-may-care morning cake; a Bailey’s coffee.
Scandalous!
Before Burty retuned upstairs, we had a quick hushed chat to ensure said protocols and procedures were in place and rightfully so, I re-assured Burty that I would uphold my end without wavering. We embraced like brothers and Burty sauntered off back to his nest, and I followed suit to back to mine shortly afterwards.
For the next hour or so I kept myself entertained with loud action movies whilst organising my sock drawers. However, a man gets a hunger when he’s sorting his socks. As such, I cautiously ventured out with haste to forage without disturbing the ambiance of Burty’s lair.
Just as I enter the kitchen and think I’ve pulled it off, I hear the familiar door carpet drag and footsteps soon follow. Although this time I nervously await the incoming creaks in case I’d inadvertently become the gooseberry or third wheeled a tender moment with my foraging. I heard faint cheers and strung-out sound bites from upstairs calling after Burty who appeared round the corner. However, to my surprise, I was met with a lost, wide-eyed and confused looking Burty, wearing his “favour face.”
The cries and calls from upstairs were becoming more frequent, so he pushed the lounge door to and moved in close.
It was clear time was of the essence.
It turns out that Burty had indeed met a female on some sort of dating app, in fact, they’d had a lovely evening of drinks, conversation and more drinks. It also transpires that although Burty’s scandalous day off treat is a Baileys coffee, his guest saw this as the perfect opportunity to make herself a vodka and orange. I wouldn’t quite call it a ‘Mega-pint’, but it was a hearty and carried weight.
Essentially Burty describes it as the following. Let me set the scene.
INT. BURTY’S LAIR- MORNING
Burty enters holding a Bailiey’s coffee. There’s movement in the bed as the guest begins to stir
BURTY
Morning!
FEMALE
(Waking up)
Morning…
(The Female notices and smells the Baileys coffee)
BURTY
(Feeling a bit embarrassed)
Oh… Sorry, I hope you don’t mind. It’s just a cheeky treat after a long, weary slog at work. Dare I ask if you want one? -We’ve got a little bit left. You were sleeping before, so I didn’t want to disturb you.
FEMALE
No, you’re fine, I hope you don’t mind if I join you…
BURTY
What do you mean…?
The Female rolls over and reaches for a half-finished bottle of vodka. The smell stings Burty’s eyes but to compensate, she reaches for a discarded, warm carton of orange juice. She adds this to the bottle of vodka and takes a hearty morning swig; The first of many.
After an hour or so, Burty hears some footsteps scampering downstairs. He fumbles to his feet and exits the room in search for assistance.
Naturally at first, I found Burty’s tale of woe hilariously bizarre, and the ever-increasingly rowdy soundbites summoning him back upstairs tickled me pink. But feeling pressed for time and out of polite options, Burty came to me for help.
I felt like the Godfather on so many levels- But I could also understand where he was coming from.
We’ve known each other many years, but this is the first time you came to me for counsel, for help. I can’t remember the last time that you invited me to your house for a cup of coffee… But let’s be frank here: you never wanted my friendship. And uh, you were afraid to be in my debt… But you don’t ask with respect. You don’t offer friendship.
Instead, you come to me, on the day when I sleep and eat snacks, and ask for Justice’.
Although normally I would be happy to oblige and wave the ‘Friend in need, friend indeed flag’, I felt a sudden surge of opportunity and perspective. As mentioned, we have a few friendly and sensitive approaches to social situations with some guests. This often involves me falling on my sword of Crohn’s, receiving some terrible news, or staging a dramatic scene where I’m the overtly shitty housemate that ‘didn’t expect guests.’ Additionally, we have a modest house kitty which is used to request and pay for a taxi for said guest. So, we’re not just kicking someone to the curb, but if in fact we are, then be re-assured we’re doing so in an accommodating and well-behaved frame of mind.
Though whilst we share hushed tactics and narratives, in that moment, my eyes drawn to something in the background. I can feel my right one beginning to twitch and my foot begins to fidget and bounce with anticipation. I lazily peer around and notice the thick layer of settled cat hair grazing on every imaginable surface. I lazily peer around the corner and ‘happen’ to spot the hoover and carpet brush placed at the bottom of the stairs, awaiting Burty next overdue surge of energy.
I wait a minute and bask in the follow-up cackles and slurring taunts at the TV coming from upstairs.
“I’ll be happy to help you Burty” I say. His face lights up; rejoicing as the fatigue lines of realisation disappear. For Burty’s found his scapegoat.
But then… I began to ponder and started reviewing the situation.
I like favours, especially when they’re reciprocated.
“Did you get around to hoovering the stairs and landing like you said you would yesterday?” I say knowing full well he didn’t.
“Did you happen to clean the bathroom like you said you would as a ‘favour’ to me by any chance Burty?”
Burty’s face drops, he gets a bad taste in his mouth, and he becomes suspicious. Uncertainty grows and hangs in the air like a bad fart and becomes more prominent than the customary barnyard fragrance.
Sorry Burty, but your lack of follow-through is your downfall…It’s a double-cross. The bill is due…
He’s summoned back by another, louder slurred cry of his name and disappears.
I’m sure you’re aware of the saying ‘Kick someone whilst they’re down’, but I prefer the ideology that the best approach to negotiating, is when your opponent is on the ropes.
Burty’s promises of cleaning had been proclaimed far and wide throughout the house of Scurvy, but it was apparent these held no merit and his solemn word as a tree to get them done was false.
I’m all up for favours, but fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.
I felt like Davey Jones; Burty had a debt to pay, and his time was up. Although I didn’t need to say it, Burty’s face told me he already knew. With that, I vanished into a puff of smoke and floated back upstairs to my sanctuary of scurvy after passing sentence.
Throughout the rest of the day, Burty’s door remained slightly ajar. Along with the re-occurring soundbites of the morning Voddy and orange taking affect, through the slit in the door I saw a glazed over Burty. I’m not surprised he didn’t see me, the thousand-yard stare into was unflinching to any footsteps or activity outside of the now rowdy lair. In films, I believe this is referred to as the ‘All is lost moment’. Although this started to leave a sour taste in my mouth and so not wanting to dampen my weekend ‘high’, I pulled his door to in a very Jigsaw homage inspired moment. There was no resistance.
Game Over….
It was like shutting the door on Kay Adams in The Godfather; the screaming eyes filled with confusion and betrayal.
I think she left in the early hours of the next morning after falling asleep mid-afternoon. I can only assume she was tuckered out from her bed beverages and pointed carte-blanch commentary to whatever was on television.
Although it was a sour lesson to learn, Burty received the message loud and clear and proceeded to hoover the landing the following afternoon. Tomfoolery shan’t be tolerated; If you say you’re going to do something, then do it.
I didn’t catch the fair maidens name and the only thing I managed to catch sight of were her shoes. But this is the story of Voddy girl and how she turned the tide in the tug-of-war battle for cleaning.
I’m sure this is bound to come full cycle and bite me in the arse at some point later down the line. But I’ll take the victories where I can and say this.
Whoever you are, thank you. You were more effective than I could have ever hoped for.
They say lessons come in all shapes and sizes; this one came as a large bottle of off-brand vodka.
Nostrovia!
