Confessions of a squash court manager
episode 25
where's the body
It had been a lovely day at the Corleone Squash Center, a nice flow of non whinging customers happily throwing money at the squash godfather, in the name of good health. Life couldn't be better.
Anyway, a group of 3 middle aged guys walked in and asked about booking a court.
"No problem guys show me twenty five dollars and your in business." I said. They handed over the cash and trotted around to court 4.
The place was fairly busy, people wandering into the dunny or around to the kitchen to pinch a free drink out of the tap rather than fork out a measly three dollars fifty for a bottle of water.
I came out of the back store room with an armful of drinks and headed over to top up the fridge.
I noticed one of the guys who had recently come in, a fat, bald, lardish type standing next to it with a strange sort of satisfied, peaceful look on his piggy face.
Turns out it was the look of pure satisfaction from a job well done, as the dirty prick had just dropped his guts...BIG TIME! Or it may have been the look of sheer relief, that he had not actually shat himself. Either way, I had walked straight into a massive invisible cloud of shit...FAARK.
Turns out it was the look of pure satisfaction from a job well done, as the dirty prick had just dropped his guts...BIG TIME! Or it may have been the look of sheer relief, that he had not actually shat himself. Either way, I had walked straight into a massive invisible cloud of shit...FAARK.
The stench was so vile my legs almost buckled from under me, "what the fuck have you done here mate?" I yelled, desperately trying not to inhale a mouth full of shit.
He took off without answering me around to his court, dragging the dead stinking carcass that was hanging out his ass with him. Filthy prick.
He took off without answering me around to his court, dragging the dead stinking carcass that was hanging out his ass with him. Filthy prick.
As luck would have it a couple of young birds walk in and I could tell by the look on their faces the shit cloud had hit them. Who am I kidding, Mat Damon could smell this fucking thing up there on mars!
If it had been a couple of blokes walking in I would have puffed out my chest out and proudly claimed it as my own. But my vanity kicked in, "sorry about the stink ladies, I think the fat, bald prick on court 3 is actually dead, or at least he's dead on the inside."
If it had been a couple of blokes walking in I would have puffed out my chest out and proudly claimed it as my own. But my vanity kicked in, "sorry about the stink ladies, I think the fat, bald prick on court 3 is actually dead, or at least he's dead on the inside."
some more satisfied customers
good squashing
squash godfather
