Owings Discharged

Old ibu owns a mere 70 when she looks a dead-set 80++. BP sometimes 150 has her worried. Long face and gap-toothed. On the other side the old crow guesses right off five fingers and, god damn her to high heaven! another finger raised on the other hand, all with judicial air like some ancient of Dürer. Such indecently good English. Mystified however why she gets so tired. Doc tells her not to worry, take a seat when she’s pooped and then go again. Terms her opposite number uncle if you can believe, like a near contemporary! You stay where?... Seems jealous hearing the reply. Herself she’s out in god forsaken McPherson rather than the Bedok that was guessed. Some kinda liniment for reviving that brought back the football change rooms before a game, the seniors more than us juniors. Dürer’s subjects sometimes looked like figures of fate like this one. Noodles for lunch had been bought by Ni at Bugis, two packs for a dollar. Sometimes there were specials at that outlet when three were offered. The dish Ni prepared for lunch included both servings for her big bule lover. It had been the usual strong clutching both sides for the love-making with Ni after a two week absence. Of late the best means of achieving the end was keeping the gal firm and tight, not allowing her the usual hammering on top she preferred that quickly robbed all feeling. Hard clamp on the lower back with periodic short, short thrusts. Sometimes nature programs depicted the like for various animals: to an outside viewer there was almost no motion apparent. Prior to the escape for a cup of teh the hungry gal had started in again hoping for a second episode, perhaps wary of being robbed of the opportunity in the remaining time. Not far off the aspect of Aunt Andje at the first visit to Boka the old crone in the corner. She had appeared like a sudden bird of augury without making a sound. Damned if she was all Malay. Not an ounce of differences from our classic form, with the scarf of course included. Today they were due to cart the litije, the church banners from St. George and Our Lady up in the village down the 24kms to the Savina Monastery for safe keeping, cousin Zoran had emailed. There was growing protest against the local Montenegrin ecclesiastical authorities which were seeking to separate from the neighbouring brother Serbs. Zoran was a strong supporter of unity with the latter; passionately against the divisive push. Ni had returned the last of her loan today too, money that had been advanced for her air ticket here for the new job. The first hundred dollars had been returned a month ago; now after the hangbao of CNY, when Ni had cooked for over a hundred guests over the week, the remaining hundred discharged the balance. Guests of the household had given the cook red packets of two, five and ten dollars in some cases, totalling altogether $174. In the lead up to the week the new Madam had raised false hopes for Ni, reporting over three hundred dollars collected by the previous maid the year before. Many of course did far better than $200-300. Still, Ni was perfectly at home in this house, sweet with the pianist daughter and also the son, who both called her kaka, elder sister. Sir and Ma’me were no trouble, just a little picky sometimes the latter.  New crisp notes for the balance of Ni’s loan, a fifty, three tens and ten twos that made a bulge in the pocket. For NY offerings only new notes would do.