Mrs Teakles problematic adventures

1

Mrs Teakle ran out of the apartment, the hems of her lace petticoat flapping in the breeze. She looked absolutely fabulous, almost a Joanna Lumley but her legs weren’t as good. The reason ninety-nine year old Mrs Teakle of Bickney Way was in such a hurry? Her abusive cat Snugglepuff had just noticed that Doris, (Mrs Teakle to you) had spilt catnip all over herself and was now rampant for the stuff.

“Oh Snugglepuffle, kindly fuck off!” Doris sneezed, for she was allergic to the cat. Snugglefpuff, the poor choice of pet, was hot on her heels, which were red and glittery like Dorothy’s shoes in the wizard of Oz. “Im gonna get you, you smelly old minx”, Snugs would have said, were he a predatory man, however luckily for Doris the cat could only mew. Doris made it to the end of the hallway and punched the lift button with her prosthetic hand, which was really the main cause of the catnip spill, but as she would joke to herself, “it comes in handy”. The lift doors slid open and she did a diving roll into the room smashing into the buttons. The doors shut instantaneously in a guillotine like motion over Snugglepuffs furry neck, who was a pit pussed off…a tad furrrious...it hurt and he said, “MEowww”. Mrs Teakle didn’t care, because she had just decided, “It’s high time I did something with my life, too long have I been a lonely depressed cat loving (in more ways than one) weird old woman. I will go and find me a man who wants a purely physical relationship, I’m too old for love.”

2

The next day Dorris had found herself a man, he said she was beautiful and that her face was telling of a fantastic life, which was true considering the amount of sun beds she’d been on (Fanta-stic you see…oh god). He was far too old indeed, for as soon as she planted a kiss on his lucky old face, he was dead. This took place on a bendy bus, which “are just really shit” Doris told his corpse before borrowing twenty pounds out of his wallet and making her get-away to the local bingo hall.

Bingo started and Doris wanted to slow the pace. The past fourteen minutes had been quite a rush so she sat and had a long drink- a yard of beer in fact. She chugged away for a while, whiling away the time. Twenty minutes, eighteen pints and three catheter bags later, Doris thought it was time to go, because in old people time twenty minutes is about a day and realistically she didn’t have that many left.

She walked out the door, passed the table of prizes, selecting a sawn-off shotgun (second prize) as her rightful property and stashed it into her new snake-skin handbag (fourth prize). Someone would have protested had the gun not been loaded and had Doris not just flashed the now unconscious bouncer. “Time to get searching” Doris thought climbing into the back of a taxi and cocking the gun against the drivers’ head. Two miles and Doris was trotting into the casino which was like one of those massive sparkly ones in Vegas, but far more tacky. Even the prostitutes were dressed like prostitutes.

Doris had never been a wealthy lady, having worked in the library since she was sixteen, so the sounds of the casino were overwhelming, causing her to wet herself a little. Purposefully she strode up to the cash window and was purposefully told to leave unless she could “clean up you smelly old piss bag”.
Doris, being a lady of manners would have told the “young insolent girl” where to stick it, but thought better of it, for even she could see how a woman could get jealous of her figure, semi visible through the now wet, threadbare petticoat. Like a wet t-shirt party, but with slightly infected urine…Doris needed to find some clothes.

Outside the Casino she stared across the street in hope of seeing a Tk-Max or a charity shop which would give her free stuff. A silver BMW pulled up on the curb, the window rolled down and there sat a greased Greek man in a suit, “how much for a night of loving?”