Colin To The Rescue
A colorful past will always catch up with you when you least expect it. Years ago, just before Tom was married, he had a wild fling with a long-legged, busty blonde whom he met one night out on the turps. She was a great sort but had a lunatic boyfriend who found out about their horizontal folk dancing episode and was adamant that he’d revenge the tomfoolery.
Funnily enough, Tom eventually married this fine-looking woman and they popped out a couple of spritely young kids. Life was good. Tom managed to surf a couple of times a week, enjoy a few beers with his mates on a Friday afternoon and held a cruisy job that comfortably paid the bills.
One day, a new addition to the family unit sent Tom into a bit of a spin. The wife had brought home a miniature Maltese terrier that she swore would make the family complete. The lapdog was the size of a pea, spoilt rotten and was given the name ‘Colin’. Tom lived by the virtue ‘happy wife, happy life’, but wondered what was the use of Colin the diminutive canine.
It was early one Saturday morning when Colin finally proved his worth.
At 7am there was a thunderous barrage at the front door that jolted Tom from a blissful sleep. The kids were at their grandparents for a sleepover so Tom was far from impressed by the disturbance.
Looking through the peephole in the front door, Tom could not believe his eyes. Staring back at him was the crazed look of hate. It was the ex-boyfriend of his wife who had stalked Tom for all this time and had now finally tracked him down. The unfaithful incident in question happened years ago but some people just can’t let sleeping dogs lie.
Tom knew how to take care of himself when it came to a spot of bother, but this situation needed to be defused with some quick thinking. He knew he had cut this fellow’s grass all those years ago but was in no mood to punch on.
With only a pair of Bonds undies between himself and the unwelcome visitor, Tom threw on his wife’s frilly pink dressing gown, which lay near the front door, before scooping up Colin the dog and placing the mutt under his arm. He took a deep breath and turned the key of the deadlocked door. It was time to face the music.
“Can I help you handsome?” Tom offered in his finest effeminate voice. As he petted the happily barking Colin, he gaily stepped out onto the front veranda in the pink dressing gown and smiled, “Better watch this little Colin. He’s a killer.”
What the visitor saw before him didn’t quite add up – a bloke in a woman’s getup with a spoilt lapdog under his arm? He froze in his tracks.
Compounding the odd situation was the appearance of Eric the next-door neighbour gathering his morning paper. It was perfect timing. Eric was as queer as a three-dollar bill and as camp as a row of tents. He gave Tom a good long once up and down and a cheeky wink. Tom played up to the attention and blew Eric a kiss.
The ex-boyfriend didn’t know what to think. What sort of bizarre setup had he got himself into the middle of?
“So how can I help you big boy?” Tom batted his eyelids at the visitor.
The ex-boyfriend went as white as a sheet at the fruity attention he was receiving from the two joy boys and the cute little puppy, Colin.
“Sorry lads, I must have the wrong house,” he said sheepishly as he disappeared into thin air, never ever to be seen again.
“So who was at the door, Tom?” his wife asked as he slipped back between the sheets for an early morning roll in the hay.
“Just some religious guy selling forgiveness,” Tom lied as he cuddled his wife, “But he took one look at the set of teeth on Colin and shot through like a Bondi tram. What a great little dog he is.”