Tuesday 20 August 2019

lipo-damn!


this is part of a sequence of meta stories and should probably be read in this order:
1. anxiety dream (1June)
2. a cross tick (8 June)
3. life sentence (19 June)
4. lipo-damn!
'So how's it going,' said Fazackeley, as I sat down with him by the window of the OW, with my pint of IPA.
'It's going jolly well,' I said. 'On to challenge twenty-eight now.'
'Out of how many?'
'Two to follow then that's it. And this time – well, let's just say it's good I'm into IPA.'
'Well I thought you intended to be teetotal in June, on top of the – '
'That went out the window long ago. Day five I think. I'm just focussing on the challenge now – that's quite enough. And today's is especially difficult!'
'I've been looking at the blog. You've been busy! What is the theme today?'
'Complete a fiction without one specific element of the alphabet.'
'One of the twenty-six, you mean?'
'Yes.'
'O, you mean like that famous novel that didn't use any 'E's? What do they call it? A liposome?”
'No, that's not it. Lipo-something. I can't call it to mind at the moment.'
'And which one of the twenty-six have you chosen to omit?'
'The eighteenth.'
Fazackeley calculated. 'Ah I see. That's why you've been spelling my name like that!'
'Exactly.'
'And I see why it's a good job you like IPA then.'
'Yes, most of the hop-based libations contain the offending item.'
'Guinness would be OK.'
'I hoped you wouldn't notice the name spelling thing. I can't even use the full name of the pub.'
'I'm in the meta fiction, as you know, so I notice it all. But OW is fine – we do actually call it by its initials, instead of that Dublin aesthete's full name, which I see you couldn't use. And you invented me and my name so it's not an issue: spell it how you like.'
'I suppose so.' I took a good swig of my pint.
'No doubt the main thing about this lipo-thingy is to make it flow quite easily so that someone who didn't know wouldn't even notice.'
'Yes, that's exactly it. How am I doing up to now?'
'Lubbish!' He laughed. 'Just kidding!'
'That's legitimate,' I said. 'Imitating a music hall comedian's dummy.'
Just then Olga came past collecting glasses. 'Hello mate. Haven't seen you in all week. How's the genius doing? Is the challenge continuing?'
'Yes almost finished now. It's the whole month of June.'
'Good job it wasn't a month when shellfish is in season!' scoffed Fazackeley.
'Why's that?' she said.
'Because today he's attempting a text without the thing that those months have.'
'O I hope you've put us in it again! I liked the ones about us!' said Olga.
'So you've been looking at the blog too?' I said. What do you think?'
'A lot of them have been meta, haven't they? Which isn't to say that that's a bad thing –'
'Well you can't complain. You wouldn't exist if this wasn't meta fiction,' scoffed Fazackeley.
'Yes, I suppose so. And today's is the same again I suppose, given that I'm cleaning tables again.'
'Indeed.'
She leaned in close and spoke quietly: 'Can I just say something then? How come I'm always just cleaning tables? It's a bit sexist in this day and age isn't it?'
'O I hadn't thought of that. Do you think so? I mean it would be odd if the clientèle did the tables and the staff sat doing nothing. And it gives you a chance to chat with us.'
'Clientèle? So posh.'
'Well he can't say the usual name we'd use of people in a pub.'
'O wait a minute – shellfish months – can't say such and such – I think I'm getting it now. So why can't I just sit down today and tell you what I think of the ones you've penned up to now?'
'Well I suppose you can.'
Bloody good idea, Olga', said my companion.
So she pulled out a seat. Fazackeley went to get us all a pint. 'I'll have an IPA then, I can't have my usual today', she called as he left, winking at him.
'Why not,' I asked.
'Because of this stupid theme of today. My tipple has the offending item in its name.'
'O I see what you mean. But don't call the theme stupid. It might offend the people who manage the challenge.'
'Well you invented me, didn't you? You put the thoughts in my head and make the sounds come out of my mouth. Don't put the blame on me.'
'Yes it's all my fault. This is when meta fiction gets complicated.'
'When we begin to take on a life that you hadn't intended. We can you know.'
Fazackeley came back with the IPAs.
'Who's taking on a life?'
'Us!' said Olga.
'It's all still in his head though, isn't it?'
'You bet, but he attempts to load the bad stuff onto us and wash his hands of it! “Don't call the theme stupid, people might be offended”!'
'He's good at that – offloading!' said Fazackeley.
'Go on then, keep it up,' I said, a little peeved. 'Take on a life that I didn't intend. Scoff all you want.'
'Yes, scoffing. We scoff at you all the time, all the way back to theme one. That's not a nice way to explain us to the audience.'
'Not nice at all. It just makes us look mean and you get all the sympathy. The sad put-upon guy.'
'Go on. Say what you like. It's fine as long as I get to the end of this piece within the guidelines.' I began to down my pint fast, hoping to get back home soon.
But Fazackeley came back at me. 'So go on then: you didn't explain today's theme fully. What was the subject? You said about the lipo-thing but not the main theme.'
'Lipo-thing?' said Olga, puzzled. 'What lipo-thing? Spell it out fully.'
'Don't ask – it will go badly if you do.'
'That's all they said: any subject,' I said to Fazackeley, slightly annoyed. 'Just the lipo-thing.'
'It's easy then', he scoffed.
'Easy is it? Why don't you have a go then?'
Olga wouldn't let it go: 'No, come on, what's this lipo-thing you keep going on about?'
'It's simple, Olga,' said Fazackeley. 'It means he can just put down any old thing as long as it doesn't use an R.'
'I know that but –'
'Ooops!'
'GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!'


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