Saturday, July 15, 2006
The Man and His Shirt"What a lovely day! Lovely day, indeed!" the man exclaimed to himself. He took his new, favourite, purple-coloured work shirt from the basket in his room and brought it into the laundry room. He filled up a bucket with water and some delicate fabric detergent at the same time.
Ever since the maid left, this man has been washing and ironing his own work shirts. The weather was very permitting that day, as the sun shined and the wind blew gently. It was the weekend, and he could not think of anything better to do with his free morning. He washed his shirt clean, and placed it on a clothes hanger inside out. Buttoning up every button of the shirt, he smiled to himself as he noticed how his shirt was perfectly free from any stains. He made a grab for a few pegs on his way out of the house with his shirt hanging in his right hand.
He has had bad experience when it came to hanging his shirt to dry outdoors. Often, his shirts would be blown off the clothes hanger if he did not secure the buttons of the shirt well. He also learned that it took more than just one or two pegs to secure the clothes hanger onto the clothes line in order to not let the whole package be blown off into a certain direction (this could mean getting caught in the leaves and branches of a tall tree, or into the dirty, smelly gutter). Today, he said to himself, nothing is going to happen to my beautiful shirt. He placed the hanger onto the clothes line, and placed a few pegs not only on the hook of the hanger together with the line, but also a few more pegs directly on the left and the right side of the hook of the hanger. He walked back a bit to look at his shirt from a distance. He ran back into the house and out again to grab another two pegs and placed one on each shoulder of the shirt, securing the shirt well to the hanger.
Pleased with himself, he went back into the house and watched the television. No wind was going to make him climb a tree or wash his shirt over again!
After a few hours, he went outside to see if his shirt was dry.
His wife was watering the plants around the house when she heard her husband cry, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!". She rushed towards her husband, wanting to know what the fuss was all about.
"My Shirt. MY SHIRT!" he yelled.
"What happened? The wind blew it off again?" she asked.
"NO! It's MUCH WORSE than that. LOOK!" he pointed at his shirt.
His wife burst into laughter, but he looked at the shirt like as if someone had died.
There were two black spots on the front of the shirt. Two, large, seperate black spots on his favourite, purple shirt. Oh no, wait. There's something black hanging at one side of the shirt...
"What, on the washing instructions too?! BLOODY BIRDS!!!" he yelled.
Quickly, he took his shirt inside. after diluting the stain-removal laundry pre-soak with water in a bucket, he quickly threw in his precious shirt, and left it there for about half an hour.
He examined the shirt once more. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He took a bottle of vinegar and poured it onto the black spots. Not helping. He took some lime, and squeezed the juice out of it directly above the stains. Not helping either...
BLOODY BIRDS. BLOODY BIRDS! He kept thinking. I've only used that shirt twice!
He went outside again, looking at the birds. He went into the house again, and stormed his way to the store room. He produced a large saw, and grumpily got out of the house, heading towards the tree where he saw the birds were at.
"What are you doing?" asked his wife, who was puzzled with her husband's actions.
"I've been meaning to cut this tree for quite sometime now," he looked up the tree where the birds were perched at. "At least this branch over here. It looks... overgrown. It's getting in the way."
So down went the branch, and off went the birds. The man muttered to himself as his wife laughed hysterically, looking at her husband lug away the branch of the tree past the gates of the house and dumping it into the secondary forest not too far from their house. He returned to the laundry room, where he lifted his no-longer-a-favourite purple shirt and said, "Bee-O-Ess".
That man? Oh yes, he is my dad. This all took place this morning. Too bad we didn't record it, for our camerawoman was still brushing her teeth and was only ready for action when the 'time-of-death' was announced.
8:10 PM Azzie's got style
