FEEDING TIME AT THE ZOO (43) The iconic music had begun on the black and white television in the living room and an argument began raging next door in kitchen... A.go on..please. I begged as I looked at a stern mother. No, eat your tea at the table, and stop moaning. came the dismissive reply. Aw..flipping eck mum, its Animal Magic! I was talking to her back now. You sound like a donkey...all that bloody hawwing. she laughed over her shoulder. Mum, please, I love it, its dead funny....pleeeease. the pleading continued. Your Dad would go mad, eating off your knee...and watching the telly. aha, a chink in her defence, attack Bri, dont let her off the hook. I wont tell him...honest injun...pleeease. I zipped my mouth with a sweep across the lips, eyes never losing contact with my mothers, mine large and pleading...hers narrow and weakening, the sign that surrender was not far away. Right, just this once...and dont tell your dad. capitulation. I lifted my plate, knife and fork balanced precariously on the plates edge, my pork sausages rolled into the baked beans, my egg had already had its golden yolk squashed by a piece of white bread and butter that lay, half eaten, across the beans, the egg was bleeding heavily, a dark yellow into the orange of the tomato sauce. Trumper followed me closely into the living room, surely dreaming of a carpet edge tripping me onto my face, releasing the pork sausages onto his domain...the floor. But he stood no chance, sausages were always given the highest protection by me, unlike any of the vegetables that my mother ever tried to sneak onto my plate, now they would be dropped or fed to him without even a second thought. Mummmm...bring me Dandelion and Burdock in please. I yelled, still looking down at my plate, concentrating on not dropping a bean, when I looked up she was already stood with the glass in her hand, eyes squeezed shut from the scream, as if I had caused damage to her ear drums. Here, she said snappily as she passed me my glass of pop, I put it on the arm of the settee, Oh no you dont, me laddo, thatll go flying, she lifted it gently and put it on the table to the side of me, here, put this newspaper under your plate...and watch your food as you put it towards your mouth. she insisted as she spread the Daily Mirror on my lap. Watch me food...whats it gonna do? I enquired with a smile. Drop off your fork...poke your eye out...stab yourself in the cheek...any number of possibilities, you really are able to do the most ridiculous things, Brian. this came with a sideways glance, just to confirm she was deadly serious. He he..youll have to take me to Doctor Jessie with a sosidge in me eye...shed go bonkers at you, shes always shouting at you for taking me when theres nuffin wrong with me. She is not shouting...she just thinks boys like you are able to cope with a cold or as I thought...rabies. She thought youd were joking, she kept just saying...rabies??...rabies???..even I knopw you cant get Rabies in Moston..he he. Well....arent you the clever Dick!! That was a very nasty bite off that mongrel from Spreadbury Street...anyway..just be quiet and watch the telly...tsk. she shook her head as if to shake the memory of her scolding out...and she had gone a little red in the cheeks with embarrassment. I watched Johnny Morris as he conferred with a camel, at the same time pushing sausage and beans into my ever open mouth....each forkful was watched from plate to mouth by Trumper, tongue lapping each time the food entered my lips. The success of the food delivery brought about a drop of his head in disappointment, then he would begin watching again as I used the knife to cut and force food on to my fork...up went the fork into the mouth, Trumpers eyes begging for a sausage to fall at his feet. Watch Trumpers mouth mum when I chew me sausage. Pardon, Trumpers mouth? Watch.. I put a piece of sausage in my mouth and chewed...so he could see the food being mashed by my teeth. Trumpers eyes were wide and his mouth kept time with mine...up and down, synchronised chewing! Brian, close your mouth when your eating, youre not an animal she insisted. Its dead funny, I could be Johnny Morris.... I chewed slowly with a wide mouth, at the same time tried speaking. Urghhh, Im really hungry me, I am. the voice was deep, human and canine jaws moving in time. Now stop it Brian, its not funny, I do not want you talking and eating with your mouth open, its disgusting, and look...youve got all beans on your jumper. A.Its funny, mam... I started chomping again. Id like a sausage please.. voice even deeper, Trumpers mouth yapped up and down in time. Last warning mister, if you do not close your mouth, back in the kitchen... Sorry, mum. mouth suddenly clamped shut. Buttt....Its really hard chewing with your mouth closed, there isnt enough room to get a proper chew going. Chew!!....You never chew, it goes in and disappears in three seconds, try putting less food in your mouth and chewing it thirty times! she challenged me, her eyes wide, as if to doubt the possibility of any success. Ya fink thatd help? Well, lets try just the one sausage in there at a time, hey? Ha ha, your teasing me...Ive no sausages left, annnd...theyre too good to eat slow, I love sausages, me. the memory of both snorkers still fresh. I know you do....so does Trumper..poor thing, come on lad, she said to Trumper, heading for the kitchen, lets get some Winalot for a hungry dog. Trumper bounded after her, leaving me giggling as single humped camel tried to explain to Johnny why he was eating his zoo keepers hat, then my next forkful of food went into my mouth.... I started counting in my head as I began chewing One....two....three......whoooops....flipping eck...shes right, its gone right down me frote!!! He he.
Posted on: Thu, 27 Mar 2014 20:17:39 +0000
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