Joe Murray: Stories

4. on the cludgie

I was sitting on the cludgie, happily reading away when I heard a noise above me. Bibs, barred from our house was climbing in the toilet window.
“Oi,” I cried out.

Bibs froze with an I’ve been rumbled look on her face. Then quite brazenly: “Whit?”
I dropped my book, “what d’ye mean, whit? Get out! A bit of privacy here!” I shouted.
“Listen, Big Man, I get to shit in a box in the corner of the lobby where everyone in the house can see. Don’t talk to me about privacy.”
I stared at her angrily, “I don’t live in your house, I live in this one and it’s mine.” I took a deep breath and said, “you don’t seem to want to ever follow any conventional rules on personal space, do you?”
She shifted a bit on her precarious perch and giggled, “ well you know what they say: the wildest colts make the best horses.”
She turned to leap down from the window but looked back and said, “by the way, Big Man, I think you could do with a bit more fibre in yer diet.”

Then she was gone.


Articles/ Thoughts Poems COPYRIGHT © 2021 Dr Joe Murray		Bibs the Cat we’re all family, really a little feline philosophy excuse my french on the cludgie the baby a lesson in socialism sleeping with the enemy on the level a little black and white philosophy the magpie ultimatum Indy Cat? Who’s the Daddy? It's no about flags Video Stories Alasdair Gray & the Book of Prefaces Keekin Through Windaes The Two Heifers The Congo The Hotdog Other Stories Aye, right ennuf a natural balance a short tale of woe Maggie and the Little Pollok Carpet
	4. on the cludgie I was sitting on the cludgie, happily reading away when I heard a noise above me. Bibs, barred from our house was climbing in the toilet window. “Oi,” I cried out. Bibs froze with an I’ve been rumbled look on her face. Then quite brazenly: “Whit?” I dropped my book, “what d’ye mean, whit? Get out! A bit of privacy here!” I shouted. “Listen, Big Man, I get to shit in a box in the corner of the lobby where everyone in the house can see. Don’t talk to me about privacy.” I stared at her angrily, “I don’t live in your house, I live in this one and it’s mine.” I took a deep breath and said, “you don’t seem to want to ever follow any conventional rules on personal space, do you?” She shifted a bit on her precarious perch and giggled, “ well you know what they say: the wildest colts make the best horses.” She turned to leap down from the window but looked back and said, “by the way, Big Man, I think you could do with a bit more fibre in yer diet.” Then she was gone.