Rach was now back at work, feeling good and optimistic about the future, but as
fate would have it, barely a couple of months later all hell was to be unleashed embodied in the form of Keith B. that could not have come at a worse time. Rachael was still vulnerable and with no doctor in sight, while I had no inkling of what I was to be
up against, and no idea of what to do.
Enter Mr Grubby
It was a dreary, rainy Sunday afternoon that
Rach and I were sitting in the lounge having a chat and watching a bit of Telly when her mobile phone rang, and upon answering it I heard her say, “No, not today, it’s a bit too cold, some other time maybe.” I enquired as to whom it was,
and she said it was Keith, and that they had had a coffee together the day before.
“Keith was Rachael’s first boyfriend seventeen years earlier. They
lost contact when she had left for Warrnambool. He had recently been ringing her brother Patrick trying to get her number and after knocking him back several times, it seems Patrick had relented and given it to him. Who gives out personal numbers without permission?"
About twenty minutes later the phone rang again, and once again it was Keith, who now wanted to visit to bring Rachael a present. Rachael gave him the green light, and a split second later could
be heard a rap at the front door, and the cause for some consternation, as Rachael hadn’t given him the address and he had evidently followed her home the day before. Rachael made excuses for him; about making sure she arrived home safely. “Bollocks
Rach, it's stalking and not to be taken lightly."
So, I opened the front door to an exceptionally filthy little person who last washed when Noah set sail, and who just barged right past me with a parcel under his
arm that he proceeded to unwrap. It was evidently Rachael’s present, and it was thoughtful of him to save her all that trouble and excitement of unwrapping her it herself. He was quite manic, and as he rearranged the furniture to make room, he explained
that the contraption he was unpacking was a stand that miraculously transformed an ordinary outdoor road bike into a spiffy indoor exercise bike. Its purpose he said was to build up stamina and strength for road cycling, something we had coincidentally both
mastered some decades earlier.
Rachael chortled away unfazed by it all, but not me, I couldn't see any funny side. There was a sly parasite in our home attempting to use a past relationship in order to make a play
for Rachael. What surprised me was that she would even give him the time of day, as she seemed rather annoyed when she first learned he had been trying to contact her, while he was literally caked in filth from head to toe, looking as though he had just crawled
out of a trashcan, and reeked of nicotine due to his three pack a day habit.
Once Keith had finished assembling his gift, destined to be tomorrow's rubbish, we sat down for a bit of a chat, where he launched into
a misogynistic monologue about how all woman were cock teasing parasites born to bleed men dry, and how he would exact revenge upon them by bedding them two at time. After having had his way with them, he would then dress and leave without a word, causing
them great distress and mental anguish presumably, he didn't elaborate on that bit.
There was no reason to doubt Keith's commitment to his brethren, even if he was a bit hard on the nose. If he said he regularly
had threesomes to avenge the downtrodden sexploited male of the species, who have been ruthlessly set upon by predatory parasitic women since before time began, intent on bleeding us dry to the last.....all I have to say on the matter is, better
him than me. For as worthy a cause as it, I just don't have the energy to be able to "do it" for the good of all mankind.