FOUL SHOTS

FOUL SHOTS

“They switch wings you know,” Derek educated the nurse.

“The cross carpeting bastards. You’d have thought someone would have mentioned it at some point in time, but nobody ever says anything about them switching wings,” he further lamented.  

Months earlier, when Derek offered Zeb his left testicle as security on his outstanding debt, Derek reckons he was only speaking figuratively. He reckons when he said: “I swear on my left ball… just one week… you’ll have it all… all I need is one week,” he really didn’t think a week later, his underwear would be subjected to meticulous scrutiny by the catfish at the bottom of Zeb’s aquarium; his hands would be shackled to opposite corner pockets of Zeb’s snooker table, whilst his legs would be pried apart by two of Zeb’s henchmen. Even when Zeb hovered scientifically over him with the spider-cue extension in one hand, and his other hand repositioning his orbs - with the stern examining look on his face which said: I think they‘re in their correct positions now. We’ve got to be careful in our Shylockism you know - a pound of flesh and that alone… and all that jazz, Derek still thought Zeb and his cronies were literally and figuratively doing nothing more than a spot of leg pulling. Even at the very moment the cue – with the full force of Zeb’s swing – came crashing onto his left winger – sending him into a deep sleep, which played host to nostalgic dreams of coupledom – Derek still thought: Hang on, nobody ever looses a ball on a snooker table do they?

            And so months down the line, when Derek repeated the exact same promise to Alphonicus (after Zeb had sold him Derek’s debt) he thought he had stumbled onto a gem of a con which would buy him at least a week of grace. He did not have a left testicle; the collateral was non-existent, and so surely by the rules of Shylockism - if stringently followed - he was bound to be let off with just a thorough slapping, and a promise to return with the appropriate funds the proceeding week. 

            Needless to say, Derek was most surprised at the outcome of events when he found himself sprawled out on Alphonicus’s snooker table; peeking out of the corner of his right eye at a goldfish perusing his underwear at the bottom of Alphonicus’s aquarium; with both hands shackled to opposite corner pockets of the table, whilst his legs were pried apart by two of Alphonicus’s henchmen.

            “You only have one ball,” an astonished Alphonicus exclaimed shortly after he reached down in-between Derek’s legs to audit his reimbursables; the slowly down-turning sides of his mouth forecasting an impending frown. 

            “Yes I know.” Derek replied confidently with a cheeky grin - getting a brief whiff of Alphonicus disappointment.

However, when the looming frown failed to materialise on Alphonicus’s face, instead, a reassured smirk suddenly springing up in its place, Derek suspected Alphonicus had skipped a very key page of his somewhat risqué script. His fears were confirmed when the smirk broadened into a rich smile – a chilling precursor to the even more horrifying words: “Good thing it’s the left one then.”