It’s Time to Slut

I slept at The Sister last night. This morning I woke up to very cold weather. Very, very cold weather. I was busy pottering around the house making a cup of black Rooibos Tea with no milk and one sugar and I was wearing black, slightly faded skinny jeans, a white long sleeved t-shirt, a charcoal jersey with a hood and rather fetching leopard print slippers, when all of a sudden The Sister yells out:

“OH MY! THERE IS A MAN IN MY GARDEN!”

Being the brave warrior that I am, I chose to investigate the appearance of said man, and peered out the window by the front door. I breathed a sigh of relief when the possible axe yielding, scar-faced psycho killer in the garden, turned out to be a smiley lady wearing far too much make up for 8:30am. But hey, we all make mistakes.

With a renewed sense of security off I went to open the front door (although I left the security gate locked as the axe-yielder may have been hiding behind her) and she gave me the brightest, kindest and sweetest smile I have seen in years. I wanted to be her friend.

“Hello there” - cue second round of oozy smile - “I am here to see Jannie or Les.”

I examined the garden behind her closely for any sign of a concealed murderer, before replying to the smile-monster:

“Um, who?”

“Jannie or Les. I’m here for my meeting.”

“Um, I don’t know who you are talking about.”

The smile was now gone and she looked slightly confused. She then gave me the once-over starting at my just out of bed, messy hair that is in need of a wash (which on later inspection was sticking up strangely at the back) all the way down to my beloved slippers.

“Uhhh, I think I have the wrong place”.

With that she threw out a half-hearted smile and sauntered away. She was wearing a long black coat.

She was wearing the tightest, bum suctioning jeans which looked like they would comfortably fit a 13 year old. She was wearing thigh high, point black leather boots with corset style ties at the back.

And upon watching this beast shimmy down the garden path, it hit me square in the face like the Titanic hit the iceberg. She did have the wrong address. She was looking for the brothel around the corner.

The Sister, in fits of laughter, phoned the Brother-in-Law to tell him what happened. “Go look for her” he replied, “offer her our granny flat to work out of.”

Thanks Brother-in-Law, that’s where I sleep.