Tuesday 14 February 2012

In Which Modesty is Desperately Chaste

Once upon a time there lived a young girl who, in order to protect her privacy, we shall henceforth refer to as Netsirk, which is her real name spelled backwards. Before she got a real job in Notgnillew she worked on an orchard with her mother, also known as Mum, and I shall also spell that backwards to protect that fine woman's reputation.

The following story did not unfold at the mother's current workplace and unless my memory serves me incorrectly, the address was strictly highpathetical.

Anyway, this once-upon-a-day turned out real hot and Netsirk was sweltering in thick grey trackpants. Eventually she could stand it no longer and was about to faint under the vines.
"Why didn't I wear shorts?", groaned the daughter for the nineteenth time.
"Look Netsie", her mother said in total exasperation, "There is noone around for miles except you and me so just work in your undies, for goodness sake".

"Shall I?", Netsie asked hesitantly but then came to her senses and, before you could say 'Derierre', had pulled off those horrible thick grey trackpants. All of a sudden she was flitting from vine to vine like a chirpy fantail, her secateurs flying through those kiwifruit tangles as if caught up in a tornado.

The liberated lass did take the precaution of draping her horrible thick grey trackpants over a nearby wire in case someone, like a certain Slovakian tractor-driver, should chance along. It was very important to her that, in but a flash of flesh, she could reclaim her modesty.

"Mum", the daughter said happily, " It is such a wonderful and free feeling wearing just undies out here in the glorious outdoors!".
"Oh, that's very nice indeed", replied the mother, "But you call them undies? Looks like a sling-shot to me".

At 2.55pm Mum suggested they start heading back to the Smoko-Room and that is when dear little Netsirk lost a garment and her mind at precisely the same time. Frantically she searched the overhead-wires for those ugly grey trackpants but how futile the effort for they were gone! Completely gone. In fact, they were as gone as Micheal Jackson and in circumstances equally mysterious.

How poor little Netsie ranted and raved, hollered and panicked! Oh, how desperately she longed to go to Smoko and get a nice cold refreshing drink with her mother but of course her buttocks couldn't turn up in only a sling-shot. The rest of her was decent enough but totally embarrassed buttocks cannot be left behind, if you will pardon the pun.

So, crazed with excessive emotion, Netsie got on the quad-bike and tore round and round the entire orchard block calling out for her track-pants as if they had ears maybe. Her mother kept right on working as there was no point both of them getting hysterical.

It was 3.07 pm now and Netsie screeched to a halt in front of her mother.
"Momsie! Please help me find my pants!", she begged desperately.
So Momsie took off her leather pouch, pulled her teeshirt away from her waist and surprise, surprise, Momsie gave painless birth from her navel to her daughter's ugly grey trackpants.

Yes, that twisted woman had hidden them up her tee-shirt and secured their invisiblity by squashing them flat against her stomach with her waist-pouch.

Netsie stared in disbelief at her ugly grey trackpants and didn't know whether to laugh or sob so she wrestled her mother to the ground.

"Where is da Crazy-Lady?, asked a certain Slovakian tractor driver when Netsirk finally ran into the Smoko-Room just as the others were leaving.

"Oh, she's a bit tied up", explained Netsirk and gulped down a Coke.

And apparently Momsie was.

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