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CATEGORY: Picture.

Inspired by the picture "A Sculptor's Model".

452 words, excluding title, copyright notice, and introductory
notes.

                         Waiting, Yet Again

           Copyright 2004  sswitcher at yahoo dot com


"Eah - do ai 'avter keep auwldin' this bloody tre-iy branch?" ai
ask 'im.  "Ai bin stayndin' 'ere fer bloomin' aiges an' my arms
aiykin'!".  [*]

"Birch!" ee sez.

"Yer wo'?"

"It's not a tree branch.  It's a birch, darling.  A freshly-cut
birch."   Blimey!  Ee don' 'arf tauwk proper, dunn'ee like?

"Well - can yer ge' a bleedin' mauve on?  I'm bloody freezin' up
'ere!"

Ee's standin' there, lookin' a' tha' piece a' stauwn like ee's go'
awl the time in the warld.  No' doin' any cahvin' like - jus'
bleedin' lookin' a' the bloody thing, or a' me, whal ai stand
there bleedin' starkers ge'in goose-bumps on me ti'ies.

"You're cold?" ee asks after keepin' me wai'in' fer wo' seems
like anovver bloody age.  "Okay, I know how to warm you up.  Go
over there and lie face down on the couch!"

Ai gives 'im a fanny look, bu' ee looks like ee means bizness,
so ai figure ai be'e do wo' ee sez.  An' yer know wo'?  Ee taiks
the bloody tre-iy branch, or birch as ee sez, an' sta's whackin' me
wiv i'!

Swish!  Swish!  Swish!  Swish!  Swish!  Swish!

"Owwwwwwwww!", ai yells.  I mean, ee's whackin' me awl over,
from me loaf [1] righ' dahn to me plates o' meat [2].  An a'm
thinkin' this is a bi' much inn'it?  I'm ge'in' paiyd fer modellin',
ai am, no' fer this kinky stuff.  Bu' ee keeps whackin' away,
swish!, swish!, swish!, an' i stah's ter ge' this naice tingly
fay-lin' in me bo'el [3], ri'.  An' on me ovver side too, if yer
know wo' ai mean.  So ai don' protest as much as ai prolly
should 'ave.

An' then ee gaws real crazy, like.  Ee rushes awver ter iz
piece ov stauwn an' starts 'ackin away like a maniac, 'ee does.
Stauwn chips is flyin' ev'rywhere.  An' soon ee's carved a
marble aris wiv welts on i', like.  Jus' like ai go' on me awn
backsa-iyd when ai reach back an' rub i'.

"Stand over there!" ee sez, an' poins ter a spo' nexter iz
carvin'.  An' the bleedin' pe'ver' feels me bum up wiv one
'and, 'an fawndlz iz carvin' wiv ve ovver.

"Yes, the resemblance is perfect," ee sez.  "This is just the
effect I was looking for!  It will make a truly *magnificent*
centerpiece for my display at the Great Exhibition!"

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  Footnote:

  [*] To paraphrase GBS ... with apologies, this desparate attempt
      to represent the girl's dialect without a phonetic alphabet
      is most likely unintelligible outside London.

  ---

  Glossary of Cockney Rhyming Slang:

    [1]  loaf = loaf of bread = head
    [2]  plates of meat = feet
    [3]  bottle = bottle of rum = bum