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The International Writers Magazine
:
Guy Block Stories

Block and Tackle
• Mark Cunliffe


It is often said that two is company
Three however leads you into deep shit.
Guy Block, lecturer in English Literature at Hopemouth University had been enjoying a delightful dalliance with a young student called Madeline.
There is our two

Unbeknownst to Guy, there is a third in the equation, and the third is a he, and he is not happy about the situation.
It was a nice enough afternoon, Guy had finished his lecture, rambling on about Lawrence to a set of eager first years which included the magnificent Madeline whom Guy asked to stay behind as the rest of her fellow students gathered their books and bags to leave. As the last left the room, Guy looked down squarely at the petite Madeline who thrust her not so petite chest forward a little and giggled girlishly in that ‘ooh isn’t this naughty but who cares’ kind of way. Guy twitched a little and smirked at the sight before scurrying to the door, placing it firmly shut and locking it.
He walked back to face her and was about to say something witty, suggestive and clever (as was his want) but was immediately stopped as Madeline threw herself up into his arms.
He really wished she wouldn’t do that. It hurt.
"Ooof!" Guy managed as he felt his limbs struggle and the breath escape his body. Luckily his desk was behind them and he slumped onto it now, sending several dissertations scattering across the parquet floor. Settled slightly more, Madeline giggled again. Christ knows why, it wasn’t that funny, his back bloody well hurt thanks to her exertions. He hoped his exertions would not be affected.
Oh well one way to find out, and so the kissing started.
God it felt good. Guy enjoyed the youthful voracity this girl had and made a mental note to check his tongue in the mirror for bruising later.
Can a tongue bruise?
It would be just Guy’s luck if his did.

As Madeline pulled herself from his face, Guy took time out to marvel on her beautiful features. A lovely elfin face set off with black and dyed blonde highlighted short sharp hair under her corduroy cap, those big wide eyes with heavy mascara whose emerald irises were now beginning to search Guy to ask if all was ok. Let her wait a moment, Guy thought and he evaluated the beauty of her pale red lips, the lovely large overhang of the bottom lip suggesting a ripeness that suited her age and the paleness of her skin in general and then that lovely perfect little beauty spot just off her lip settling nicely on her right cheek.
How good it was to traverse the geography of her beauty he thought. She was perfection, and a little vibrant youthful bundle of energy too. He could have fallen head over heels for a girl like this in his younger days. Alas those days were gone.
"What?" she finally asked to break the silence with a slight hesitancy in her giggle this time.
"Nothing" Guy said, "just admiring" and he leaned forward and kissed her once more, kissing her lips, her teeth, her eyelids and even the small little white scar that joined the softest of wrinkles on her forehead.
"You’re mad" she said with an awed smile when he stopped.
"Yes, but one man’s mad is another man’s normal" he replied.
Cue another little giggle and Madeline thrust her arms under her top, ready to remove her clothing for him, but Guy was out of luck as a sudden incessant banging occurred.
And sadly the sudden incessant banging was not by the two of them.
Enter the third man

"Maddie? Mads? Madeline?!" came a loud voice from behind the door
"Christ on a bike on Boxing Day! Who is that?" Guy exclaimed, hurrying up off the desk.
Madeline, looking like a startled rabbit in the headlamps, stared at the door, her big eyes growing ever wider, as she fixed and smoothed her tight skirt back down over her legs. "It's Will!" she gasped
"Bollocks!" Guy wailed, before a quick double take led him to ask, "Who the fuck is Will?"
"Um well, he’s kinda like my fiancé" she tentatively explained
Guy, who at that point was walking firmly towards the door, stopped dead. With a violent neurotic jerk of his head he asked "What?"
"Well, look right, we’ve known each other since school and he came here to study with me, he’s studying sports sciences actually, he just got picked for the rugby team" she offered hopefully, with a certain ill advised beaming pride.
"Oh" Guy said before inwardly cursing the heavens. What is the world coming too? He thought, first off, why would anyone at that age want to get engaged? Surely let that misery occur in later life, like he did.
Also, why would anyone self-respecting man want to study sport? Guy recalled in that second how delighted he was as a child when told after three years of brutal physical education at school, he no longer had to do it. No more running round that sodding sodden field was a blessing to him, why would anyone want to continue to do it, not only in the latter stages of school but on into universities?
Weren’t there armies to join for that sort of stupidity?
It's no wonder we are struggling in the phoney war that is Iraq.

But now was not the time for a political debate, especially as the next thing he heard was this-
"Look I know you’re in there, I’m gonna smash the door down if you don’t let me in, in ten"
Guy immediately panicked and ran to the far end of the room, away from the door, his legs stretched forward as far as possible and his head as back as far as possible, as if his feet had made a decision to flee before his head had even worked out what was occurring and realised that there was nowhere to run to in the first place.
This obvious fact was relayed to him by Madeline, who after saying it, walked as calmly as possible to the door to let Will in. "Right where is he?"

Will, your typical blonde rugger bugger, boomed almost knocking the slight Madeline over.
"Will?!" she exclaimed
"Who are you? Why do you barge in here?" Guy shouted with great authority

Well, he did in his head; in reality he croaked it feebly out, the words wavering like a saxophone solo, or a nervous fart, which to be honest he wouldn’t be surprised if one were to make an appearance at this point.
"I’ll tell you who I am Professor Block, I’m Will and this young lady here is my girl, has been since fifth form and so what I want to know is what do you think you are doing trying to take her off me?"
"What?" Madeline shouted "Will do you really think there’s something going on between Prof Block and I? I mean come on Will, he’s 60!"
"I am not 60!" Guy bemoaned loudly
"Well, you’re not far off" Madeline replied, a brief apologetic look crossing her face from behind Will’s bulky shoulder.
It wasn’t enough. That comment wounded Guy immeasurably.

And why was it slim slight pretty elfin girls with brains always fell for thundering meatheads with hooray accents who thought that being a gentleman meant lighting a ladies farts for her at the rugby club ball?
No matter, Will edged closer towards the now closed in Block. He was tackled irrevocably.
"Listen to me Prof Block, I know about you, I’ve heard the rumours, I’ve even read the jokes in the student mag"
I haven’t, Guy thought, what are they saying about me?
"Pay attention!" Will yelled inching closer into Block’s space. Oops Block, look him in the eye, despite the fact his breath smells, look him in the eye. No time for drifting off.
"I know you are a serial shagger! Its disgraceful a man of your age preying on young girls"
"Will people stop this fascination with my age I’m in my mid-fifties, I’m in my mid-fifties!" Guy stammered hopelessly.
He also thought of another saying involving two, that it takes two to tango, but he could see a pleading look in her eyes not to go there.
"You’re a pervert that’s what you are! Look at you; do you think you’re special huh? Do you think you’re clever?"
"Well yes" Guy answered, he was, what else could he say, "Only comparatively" probably not that.

He could see rage boiling up in this neo-Neanderthal. Oh God, he thought, this can only end badly. He was stuck in a corner of his own lecture room, tackled into a situation he had almost always successfully avoided. He struggled to find words to find a peaceful solution, to stop this from getting any worse
"Look, erm, chill out man"
Not good
"Chill out? Chill out! You bloody hippy!" Will screamed, stressing the word hippy as if it was the worst thing in the world
He was right, Guy thought, he is a bloody hippy, a daft old bloody hippy. He’s Bob Harris and Will is Sid Vicious. This is just like that night in The Speakeasy when Sid threatened Bob because he wouldn’t play punk on The Old Grey Whistle Test. Except Bob Harris was saved by the road crew of Procol Harum and the ensuing irony therein.
Where were the hippy roadie lifesavers for Guy? Christ, he didn’t even have an Annie Nightingale! His neighbouring colleague, Emma Latimer was away. The unfeeling bitch!

Will’s face began to screw up in a way that suggested some sort of violent action was about to happen.
Guy sadly could not manage an expression to top or even match his enemy, and instead went for a constipated broad and pathetic smile with a slight tear in each eye.
Will’s head reeled back clearly a head butt was imminent. Madeline screeched some kind of plea for him to stop, but to no avail. His head almost in slow motion for Guy started to wend its way forward aiming for Guy’s still pathetically smiling features. Suddenly Guy screwed his eyes up tight and wound his neck down as if shutting his eyes would make the attacker disappear.
Flesh and bone hit flesh and bone.
A loud thwack rang out across the room.
Madeline gasped.
Will straightened his body back up and looked at Guy.
Slowly blood trickled slightly from Will’s nose. Then like a flood it erupted. Black spots began to appear before his eyes and… and…
"You bastard! You’ve…you’ve bloody injured me…you…you brute!" Will wailed tearfully before failing to the floor in a faint.
Guy opened his eyes and raised his neck back up from his shoulders, tortoise like. "What um…what happened?" he asked bewildered.
"You-you ducked…you floored Will" Madeline said dumbstruck.
Will’s forehead, instead of hitting the desired target of a hippy nose, instead found a hippy skull, busting his nose wide open.
"I’ll erm I’ll call an ambulance" Guy stuttered as Madeline crouched down to attend to the stricken Will.
And so goes the old adage, never trust a hippy.

© Mark Cunliffe. September 2007
Markbc@hotmail.co.uk


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