It was 8 in the morning and Walter Westidex was excatly on time as usual to open up. It was the smallest bookies in town but it was his life. He had invested all his Insurance Claims money into it and it would allow him to be his own boss and earn him enough to feed, clothe and shelter his wife and kids.
The only thing was that he was still single and at 48 and stuck in his ways, things were unlikely to change. The only sexual experience he got these days was a fleeting glimpse of the lapdancers as the arrived at the strip club next door. For most men that was not enough, but Walter was not like most men.
The nearest he had to a family was the dreamers, drinkers, lost souls, unemployed and immigrants that frequented his place of business. His odds were notoriosly mean, even more so for foreign nationals. Many a time a darker skinned gambler placed a bet at 10/1 only to see 5/6 on written on the betting slip, but many did not even bother to check.
Strangely the place was always crowded because Westie did not care too much if people just came in to watch a match or race. Perhaps his soul was not as filled with darkness and hate as his parents had thought. A gregarious loner he seemed to like the hubbub of chat around the place even if he didnt really want to get involved himself.
Of course no one would ever know of his secret life before he joined the compensation culture.
He had been a superb chef, capable of turning the most banal of foods into a delifghtful treat. Through a series of successes he ended up being the chef to the Canadian Olympic team at Seoul 1988. But one incident blighted his life. While boiling an egg for the sprinter Ben Johnson he took one of his 'happy pills' but unbeknownst to him a couple slipped from the container into the saucepan and the already cracked egg was tainted with the dissolved pills.
Ben enjoyed his egg, thanked Walter and said his goodbyes before he left for the 100m final..........
Westsidex- The Bookies Tale
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25-02-10, 15:29Alec HoranWestsidex- The Bookies Tale
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25-02-10, 17:23Noah
saucer of milk :rolleyes:
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25-02-10, 17:35Mousey
CHAPTER 2 - IT BEGINS
The bell tinkled as the front door opened and a foreign man walked in. Westie's hackles raised. It was bad enough that these people were subjecting the proud Irish nation to economic invasion, but now they had money to throw away at a bookie's. He lit a fag, the underlight from his silver Zippo making his face look foul.
The customer was dark-skinned, not quite ebony, but enough for Westie to know that there was something not quite white about him. He was dressed in jeans, runners, and a flashy dark blue t-shirt that yelled "I Ain't Dead Yet, Motherfucker!" in sparkly white writing. His hair was gelled - he didn't look that old. Exactly the type of bastard that Westie hated. He might even have been gay.
The man went to the boards and started examining the prices, raising an eyebrow here and there, looking away as he made some mental calculations. He took a loose betting slip from a nearby shelf and scribbled something on it.
Westie exhaled a thick plume of smoke, flicked the ash onto the concrete floor - he was fucked if he was paying for carpet - and ground it into powder with his heel.
The man approached the counter. -
26-02-10, 12:01Epsilon
Chapter 3; Contact.
As Westie studied the dark strangers features, there was something eerily familiar about him, but Westie couldn't quite put his finger on it..... but he knew he was going to rip him off, just like all the rest.
The dark stranger stood facing Westie across the counter and Westie felt uneasy, he could not explain this feeling, as he had not had feelings in so long, not since "the egg"....
The dark stranger stood towering over Westie as he put his betting slip on the counter, Westie looked up at the man who at 6 foot 2 was a full foot taller.... just as he started to read the slip, an old flame popped into his head,an escort he used to frequent, a stunningly beautiful, mocha skinned goddess, who stood a full 10inches over Westie, a lady he hadn't thought of in almost 20 years, could it be.... Just then the tall dark stranger spoke.... Are you "Westie"? He asked.. Westies chest tightened as he a struggled for words, "yes" he croaked, fearing the worst...." Yes i am, who the fuck are you boi" he blurted out.. The man reached in side his jacket and pulled out a large............ -
26-02-10, 13:50Alec Horanchapter 4......pine cone.Quote:
Originally Posted by Epsilon
To the casual observer this may have seemed odd, but not to West.
He immediately reached for the inside pocket of his raggedy tweed jacket and also pulled out a pine cone. The hubbub around him seemed to disappear. He could now only hear the beating of his own heart and felt a bead of sweat fall from his brow.
Whats you name -gulped West.
Walter Junior - the young man replied.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.......... -
26-02-10, 14:09Epsilon
Matching pine cones.... how could this happen.. why here? why now?
Westie could feel his whole world close in on him... why did this dark skinned stranger have to walk into his shop, why not Paddy Powers or Ladbrooks.... Why doesn't he have an online account?
How could Westie rip off this guy? how could Westie face himself in the mirror every morning in the knowledge that he had a chance to make amends for all those years of being a lying, cheating, thieving leech and a blister on the ass hole of humanity, Why???
Westie looked deep in the strangers eves knowing the he was his................... -
26-02-10, 16:55Mousey
... soulmate. Years of living in sexual denial evaporated like steam from a geyser. He wanted this foreign man, wanted him to insert his pine fresh butt plug so far up his bum that Westie practically shuddered to climax there and then.
There no were no words, only the soft creaking of the door as Walter Junior entered Westie's... -
26-02-10, 17:02Epsilon
Most private place.... His office, this sacred room was where Westie counted his ill gotten gains and drooled over his new Westlife calendar, wishing the days/weeks away, waiting for the first of every month so he could change the page and feast his eyes on the delights before him,
Westie felt an urge deep inside him and asked his new friend.... would he do him a huge favor and ...... -
27-02-10, 00:59Alec Horan
Westie suddenly snapped out of his trance where his wild imagination had him believing the last two posts were real. why did this always happen to him. He needed to snap out of it.
His knew that it was son before him. The same lazy eye and humpedback was proof enough. A tear welled in Wests eye. Was it a tear of joy to see that his seed had not been wasted or was it a tear of shame at having a son he would describe when drunk as a jungle bunny.(He just called them sponging cunts when sober).
Walter Junior had written an address on the slip and handed it to West and left. West read it to see that he was to meet Junior and his mother at the Clarion hotel in Limerick the following evening.
Sunday arrived and West travelled up the Glanmire road to the Railway Station, put on his grey wig and beard and handed his pensioners free travel pass to the ticket inspector......