D’Oh!

Jon sat on the park bench, lost in a world that included only the limits of his peripheral vision. His thoughts centred on nothing, just enjoyment of the warm summer sun that beat down to gently brown off the grass in Hyde Park.

His bottle of mineral water became tepid, giving off a vapour, filling the plastic container so that it bulged slightly. Egg mayonnaise sandwiches fried in their wrapper destined not to be eaten, at least, not by Jon; perhaps an enterprising crow or homeless person might liberate them from the trashcan sometime later.

He looked up, casually observing the other frequenters enjoying the Mediterranean like warmth that had enveloped London recently. Mostly, the grass was taken up with office workers either eating or too lethargic to waste the energy it required, opting to just lay out and top up their tans.

The rustle of lightweight fabric swishing and creasing as the bottom inside sat a foot or so from him, sharing the bench, disturbed his isolated contemplation. Jon glanced askance to see what the Barbie doll type platinum blonde looked like; pretty good he thought, especially as his askance gaze travelled from her head to a pair of what looked like enhanced breasts pushing the tee shirt she wore beyond what could be described as reasonable.

She turned and dazzled him with a smile that showed two even lines of perfect white teeth.

“Hi.” She said in a sqeaky voice that could have belonged to Tammy Wynette. If she had said her name was Tammy or Barbie he would have had no trouble believing it, but other than hi, she said nothing else, just steadily returned his gaze.

“Um, yeah hi.” As an entr? it was weak and he knew it. Slightly embarrassed at the directness of her stare, he looked away to concentrate on his brown deck shoes as if the polish were a living thing.

“That dammed dog. Look at him.” Jon wasn’t at all sure she was talking to him, but dutifully looked up. Several dogs were running around, looking like demented, brainless things, a bundle of multi-coloured fur with far too many legs and heads.

“Which one is yours?” He asked.

“The scruffy one.” They all looked scruffy to Jon, not being a dog person.

“The brindle Heinz fifty seven thingy.” She pointed, which was a complete waste because at least four dogs were in a group. Then Jon remembered that brindle described a multitude of colours, like a tortoiseshell cat’s coat. It helped him locate what was probably the ugliest dog he had ever seen apart from a pug.

“What is it?” He asked, fearing the answer.

“The guy who sold him to me said he was a cross. Looked like a dog to me, but never mind.” Jon tried to see if she was making a joke, decided that it was, so politely laughed.

“I’d better call him back before he makes a nuisance of himself.” She squeaked with a laugh in her voice.

She stuck two fingers in her mouth over her folded tongue. Jon waited for the piercing shrillness of her whistle, but it didn’t come. She failed entirely to blow.

“Damned dog never comes when I call him.” She commented.

Jon was trying desperately not to laugh now.

“What was that supposed to be?” He asked.

“A silent whistle. The guy I bought him from said he responds to a silent whistle, one beyond the hearing range of humans.” There was a certain kind of innocence about her answer that nearly creased Jon.

“Seems it’s beyond the hearing of your dog too.” He couldn’t help it any longer, he laughed out loud.

“You really are blonde aren’t you?” He managed between fits of giggles.

She pouted her lips and looked as if she might sulk.

“I’m sorry.” He apologised. “I couldn’t resist it.” Jon stuck his own fingers in his mouth and blew a loud whistle. Four doggy heads turned in his direction.

“How do you do that?” She asked as her knees were getting patted in a come hither gesture to the dog.

“Just stick them in your mouth and blow. I’ll teach you sometime.”

“Where have I heard that before? Line from a movie wasn’t it?” Her eyes betrayed nothing, showing only an innocence that the words belied.

There was an obvious double entendre there, but Jon ignored it

He watched the dog leave its new friends to come trotting to the bench they shared, it’s tail wagging in pleasure sending it in a wobbling motion from the force of the appendage. The nearer the dog got, the more it became apparent that this animal was really not something you might call pretty. The pronounced wrinkles that created a forehead moved up and down in time with its movement. Some of its fur stuck out at strange angles and was much longer than the majority of the rest of its pelt. Two tendrils of saliva drooped on either side of its mouth, looking as if it had swallowed a tennis shoe and the laces were yet to follow the rest down its throat. Its chest bumped against her knees as if using her as a buffer, his chin dropped into her lap, covering her skirt with slime.

“Um, nice dog.” She looked at him sideways to see if he was still taking the piss.

“No really, I mean it, nice dog.