The Rimmer

Trip Start Sep 09, 2004
Trip End Ongoing

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Flag of New Zealand  ,
Wednesday, August 30, 2006

It's 1am. I'm on shift, but at home at the dining table taking a mid-shift coffee break. My concentration breaks with the slight creaking of stairs. Instinctively, I know that it's either Jez or the Rimmer coming up mid-sleep to get a swig of Coke. I look up. It's the Rimmer. He's wrapped loosely in an old towel, an unusual choice of attire for young Jonathan. It occurs to me how odd it is that he's back so early. It wasn't all that long ago since he went out, fingers crossed, in anticipation of night-three with 'the difficult girl'. We spoke about it only a few days ago, after his second failing. 'Third time lucky' is what we agreed.

He walks towards me with a coy smile. My face immediately lights up. I nod and ask, 'yeah?' His grin widens. He nods back, 'yeah!'

I thrust both arms into the air with clenched fists as if England have just scored shouting a muted 'YES!' but silently, ever so silently, as 'the difficult girl' lies directly below us, in his bed. He laughs and tries to stay quiet. For a second we giggle like teenagers. He reaches into the fridge. No Coke this time. A cold beer. He's waited a long time for this. I smile with admiration. He cracks off the top with victorious flair and holds it up high like a trophy. He tilts me a wink and takes a celebratory swig. Good lad. I nod wisely letting him know that I'm proud and watch as he skips off back to bed. I sit for a moment before turning my attention back to my coffee, and my book.

Lucky bastard.
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uncle_davros on

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