The Widow-Shark

Nice new topi fella, round of applause for the man, take a bow sir. Checkered fern green and black flat-cap in good cloth casts the lesser versions here into the shade well and truly. Snug fit bought in the run-up to Chrissy maybe by the Sweetie who just could not resist. In the first glance immediate flash of style. Two seats along adjacent it couldn't be eye-balled properly at first. Not everyone could carry a crown like that—the Shark shows how. Lord of the jungle, king of the beasts. Where'd he get that princely manner you wanna know, kampung boy like him from across the road in the muck of the unsewered flood-plain? Like a lotta successful Lotharios, decided ugliness at base; lizard kinda snout, tortoise head peering out. No shrinking violet this one; billionaires don't have the self-assurance of a guy like that. Elbow up on the divider chair didn't ask anyone's permission. Oh!... Just back from Phuket. Rich unfaded colour on the breast not from the cheap street-stalls; all the markings of in-store hotel purchase. Emblem an additional piece of raised fabric in luscious tropical tints; at the Thai beaches he had kept under the umbrellas. Piece of luck chair freed directly behind allowed showing of the gold glinting watch and below the leather loafers, white athletic socks with the cool spell. Blimey! rust-red dye grown out behind, curled and puffed, irresistible for a little tug smooching. He's a monty this boy! Swivels that reptilian head like in the pictures of royalty, the monarch a bit stranded and lone/loathsome on the throne, EPL on the screen above providing no kind of escape. Fella could masterclass wannabe actor-pretenders. As it happened Beefy on the same second row watching the highlights with his crew. It had been the big wrestler who had first alerted to the Shark's foraging habits. They didn’t like each other this pair, mutual contempt restrained. This was number three or four minnow according to Beef, good feeding all along the line provided. Two grand arrangement. Two in the Shark's kit kept the show running for the bereaved relict, Beef knew. Tidy. Ma’me concerned was older, well-preserved, collected insurance on the previous—dowager and usurper. The short lyric Beefy employed—asor asor, nayia nayia—came with an unusual gesture: one palm holding a little weight, fingers curled; fingers of the other hand stroking. A polished river stone it had to be, the Malays were mad for the high-polish pieces thrown up by the volcanoes, all manner of benefit and protection offered. The honey-bee says to the flower, Lay you now to my heart where you will ever be..... Untranslatable original, but roughly along those lines. Big fangs could still purr not a problem.