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Sunday 20th August 2000 Curly ATTACKED

1123 Hrs

Curly ATTACKED

I woke up this morning and I thought I was dreaming. Curly was stood at the foot of my bed with his fists clenched and his face white. His eyes were bloodshot and frantic like a rabbit that sensed danger.

“Curly, what the fuck are you doing waking me up so early!” I angrily shouted at him, pointing out that it was only 10 o’clock.

At first he didn’t answer. He looked panicked, scared. Once I had come to my senses and sat up (trying to conceal my enormous morning glory) asked him again what the matter was. This time he replied. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, so I asked him again and I told him to speak louder.

“I was raped” he muttered

“What?”

“I WAS RAPED!”

“What?” “Where?” “When?” “How?”

Curly rushed over to my side and grabbed a hold of my arm, forcefully dragging me from my bed. Before I had a chance to wipe the sleep from my eyes, I was being hurled down the corridor that separated all of our rooms and inside Curly’s stinky cesspit. He let go of me and walked beside his own bed, furiously pointing at the centre of it, which had caved in.

“What are you pointing at? Just tell me what has happened”


Since I have the misfortune to share a room with Miller and Clint, they had borne witness to this strange spectacle and the pair had followed us to the scene of the apparent crime. The three of us stood in Curly’s doorway, waiting for an answer. Slowly, he began to talk.

“After you went to bed last night, me and Bertha continued to have a few jars”

“I hope you paid for those”

“YES!”

“Alright, just checking no other crimes, such as theft, took place last night.”

“Shuddup dick face” Miller interrupted “Carry on with your story pube head”

“Well me and Bertha started drinking spirits after we polished off a few pints, and then we moved onto slammers, before having the last drink I remember drinking with her, which was that bottle of Absinthe that Miller brought back from Ibiza with him last year. The next thing I know I’m waking up completely naked and (sob) she’s lying next to me with no clothes on!”

The image of the rotund, sweaty Bertha in her birthday suit instantly made me and my brothers gasp in unison!

“But it got worse” Curly continued, barely able to talk as he hyperventilated “I started to get flashbacks. I can see her now, in my mind, on top of me. It hurts. OH GOD NO! I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER! She has a hold of my head and…” momentarily he couldn’t talk, so slowly he made a motion of his head being pushed downwards. “I almost choked”

The picture he painted for us caused Clint to throw up on the spot. The thought of Curly’s forced expedition into the black, slippery Chasm of Doom was too much for my baby brother’s hungover, beer-gurgling belly to handle.

“I thought it was going to swallow my head!” Curly cried “I couldn’t breath!!!”

“She must have spiked my drink right?” he reasoned.

“Nope” Miller answered “You’ve just been fucked by a fatty. Classic case”

“What are you on about, dumbass?” I asked Miller


“That is what all fat bastards do. That is how they get da sex. It’s the circle of life. Dick hunters. They go out late; when they know that the drink is making us fellas do bad things. I swear ta God it’s true. Many a nights I’ve been at a bar, with me pint in my hand and the little amber fucker begins to talk to ya. Whispering in your ear. ‘Go on, shag her, it’s a great idea. I bet she’ll take it up the choc shop’ and so on. Drink is a bastard for playing tricks on you and before you know it, you’ve agreed with your tasty friend that it would indeed be a fine idea to ride that mucky bouncy castle like a wild pony”

“It’s rape MILLER!” Curly protested

“Lol. The beer made you do it. Not her! She just didn’t stop you! Don’t worry mate. Any hole’s a goal. Anyway, we all love a fatty once in a while, you’ve got so much more choice with all of those folds”

On that note I had to leave the room. I left it to Clint to convince Curly not to get the police involved, while Miller had decided that he was off to track Bertha down, so he could get raped too!

I’m going downstairs now to set my presentation up for the meeting this afternoon. This ship needs steering away from the iceberg dead ahead.

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