“So the farmer’s kid comes running back home from Maisy’s Whore House, waving the duck his dad had given him to pay for his shot. His father asks him, ‘So, how’d you get on with Maisy, son?’

“And the boy starts shaking the duck by the neck and shouting, ‘I got a fuck for a duck, a Duck for a Fuck, ten bucks for ducking a fuck, AND I’VE STILL GOT THE FUCKIN’ DUCK!’”

Everyone burst out laughing, some bending double and holding their sides. Jimmie, the storyteller, sat there smiling and laughing along with everyone else, although not as hard.

“Fuck, Jimmie! No one tells a joke as good as you do! Where the hell do you get them all?”

Jimmie’s eyes crinkles, and a sardonic smile spreads across his face. Although he was originally Welch, he uses a fake, “Lucky Charms” Irish accent to say, “Well, y’know, I leave a wee bowl o’ milk outside me back door at night, and the liddle people creep up and leave jokes for me in exchange. They love me, don’tcha know?”

Everyone smiles and chuckles. Jimmie was always the life of the party, and a good egg.

As well as a short one. Barely 5’ 6”, he has unruly, non-descript, brown hair, brown eyes, a narrow face, bad teeth, an unkempt beard, and a too-big nose. He almost looks like a leprechaun.

When the Friday night drinking buddies that call themselves “the Group” starts pairing up to head off to supper, their bouncing beds, or out clubbing, they all stop by to say good night to Jimmie. A number of the girls ruffle his hair or pat his shoulder. One of them, Lois, even kisses him on the top of his head.

Jimmie has a smile, a chuckle, and a quip for every one of them, but when they have all left, the smile slowly vanishes, and the look that was left was pain and loneliness.

He was everybody’s Fool, but nothing more, and it hurt.

~~~~~

It was Limerick night for the Group, and, as usual, Jimmie was beating all comers. Mark had just delivered a well-received limerick about a Parson named Jasper, and it was Jimmie’s turn again.

He was lolling back in his chair, one short leg up, and a foot on the side of the next seat, and said, “Good one, Markie. Lemme see…”
 

“There once were two bitches of Birmingham,
And this is the story concerning ‘em,
They lifted the frock,
And diddled the cock,
Of the Bishop as he was confirming ‘em!

Now, the Bishop was nobody’s fool,
He’s been to a large, public school,
So he took down his britches,
And buggered those bitches,
With a twelve-inch Episcopal tool!

But that didn’t bother those two,
They said, as the Bishop withdrew,
‘The Vicar is quicker,
And thicker, and slicker,
And longer and stronger than you!’”

Everybody burst out in both laughter and applause … except Mark, who, among other things, hated being called “Markie”. It never occurred to Mark that Jimmie didn’t appreciate Mark’s constant mocking of his size or looks. Mark took that as a natural right.

So he complains, “You didn’t make that up – that’s an old standard!”

Jimmie looks at Mark, rolls his head to one side and says, “Sure it is – but then, no one said they had to be original, did they? Just funny.

“But I’ll tell you what, Markie, lad…let’s go toe-to-toe, original stuff only, right? Loser buys the winner a beer. Fair enough?”

Mark looks unhappy. He knows from past experience that Jimmie will mop the floor with him – and look like a magnanimous winner compared to Mark’s sore loser. But his ego won’t let him back down.

“Okay, you’re on. And I’ll go first.”

“As you wish, me old son, as you wish!”

Mark licks his lips, thinks for a few moments, then smiles and says,

“Jimmie is a little runt
And talking is his favorite stunt
He likes to talk
Can’t walk the walk
And never in a woman’s cunt!”

There is scattered applause, but many frowns as well, especially among the ladies present.

Jimmie grabs his side as if wounded. “You’ve hulled me, Markie lad, between wind and water. I’m wounded, sure. But the truth is I like seeing and chatting with the ladies. I’m not sure I’d like walking around inside the little darlings – or that they’d want me to! Though at least I’d wipe me feet…” He gives Mark a hard look.

There were giggles from the crowd.

“So, now it falls to me to see if I can better your magnificent effort, me old china. Lemme see…” He glances at one of the women that Mark has been trying, unsuccessfully, to bed, then declaims…

“Markie doth the ladies please
He loves to lick above their knees
He’s set his sights
On luscious nights
Bestride our lovely Eloise!”

This time there is almost universal applause and laughter – except from Mark. Mark smiles – on the outside – and claps half-heartedly. Inside he’s seething…

~~~~~

Every April Fool’s day, the Group had a contest to see who can either do, or inspire, the most foolish thing. And as in other, similar events involving humor of some sort, Jimmie typically won.

Perhaps the most memorable of his April Fool jokes was when he showed up at the bar, naked save for some skin-toned briefs and a bright red bathing cap, wearing a clear trash bag, slightly rolled up at the bottom.

After everyone finished guffawing, they asked him, “So, what the hell are you supposed to be, Jimmie?”

Jimmie paused to let the tension build, then said, “I’m Markie!”

There was a puzzled silence as everyone looked at each other, then back at Jimmie. And again, with impeccable timing, Jimmie waited for the right moment, then added, “The biggest prick in the Group!”

And everyone fell down laughing…except for Mark.

~~~~~

Inevitably, the male members of the Group would, from time to time, talk about their sexploits, mostly by humble-bragging. And, inevitably, the talk would shift to Jimmie, who would always deflect it.

“No, fellas, no. I’m no Don Ju-wan, me. Dinky Diver,” and he patted his crotch, “and I love our home cooking, we do. We’re happy to play at home with our darling Chloe.

“No, lads, you can all go out there and risk mayhem and chlamydia. Dinky Diver and I explored all sorts of groves and grottoes in our youth, me with the miner’s lamp a-burning on me head and a tail light up me arse, but we’ve done with muff diving now.” And he would smile and change the subject, typically asking one of the others about his latest exploit.

~~~~~

Then, one year, Mark came up with what he thought was a brilliant April Fool’s prank – on Jimmie, of course.

“Look, so I’ll hire the biggest whore I can find, we’ll blindfold Jimmie, and lead him to a bedroom, and then unveil the event for all to see. Only thing is, it can’t be me that proposes it, right?”

At first, everyone said no, but after a few beers, and some kicking it around, a few of them agreed. They would regret that later.

~~~~~

“So where are you all taking me, you naughty lads? I can’t see a blind thing with this bandage over me eyes!”

There were some chuckles, with the three guys laughing behind their hands. “We’re almost there, Jimmie. Did you bring Dinky Diver with you?”

“Oh, I never leave home without him. Wait…you arseholes aren’t trying to fix me up with your cousin Sadie are you? ‘Cause I’ve been there and done that, right?”

“No, Jimmie, we promise – no cousin Sadie!”

They maneuvered him into the bedroom, where Mary Chase waited, all 6’ 3” of her, sitting on one side of the Queen-sized bed in a nightie. They laid Jimmie down next to her. Mary hiked up her nightdress, moved over and straddled his knees.

“Wait a minute – what the fuck are you guys…” Jimmie began to struggle.

Mary quickly unbuckled his pants, brushed aside his hands, and yanked his trousers down, leaving his undershorts where they were. Then she moved her knees up to his groin, sat on his midriff, leaned forward, and slipped the blindfold off his eyes. Thinking she was part of a friendly joke, she licked her lips lasciviously, and said “Hey, big guy…let’s get it on for the folks, whaddaya say?” She pushed forward to kiss him.

Jimmie’s eyes widened in fear as he saw this enormous woman’s face, hovering over him. He had never so much as kissed a girl, yet now he was inches away from the puckered lips of an enormous woman who seemed intent on having sex with him.

She stopped when she heard a loud whirring noise. The floor to ceiling curtains rolled up on motorized rollers, revealing the bedroom to be the showroom window of a department store. There was a crowd gathered outside, including most of the Group.

The crowd reacted to the ludicrous scene of the large woman and the small man in bed together, thinking it was some kind of April Fool’s joke. Jimmie’s gaze was torn from Mary, and was shocked when he saw the crowd, laughing and pointing. His face turned pasty white, and his mouth opened and closed – but no sounds came out.

Members of the Group all thought it was hilarious, and that Jimmie was in on the joke – except for Lois, who saw his expression. She was the quiet one of the Group, but universally adored. She grabbed two of the women, and raced into the store, found the display window access, and pushed the store personnel aside.

She entered the window, looked at the hooker, who seemed unsure what to do, not having been told of the entire scheme.

“Get the fuck off him. Now!” Lois shouted. Mary lowered her nightdress, and clambered awkwardly off the bed, standing aside, abashed at what had happened, and angry at having been used in this way.

Lois got the two other women to form a wall between Jimmie and the windows, then she quickly pulled his trousers up. Jimmie just lay there, shocked, eyes wide, seemingly paralyzed, barely breathing.

“Jimmie! Jimmie! Fix your pants. Now!”

Jimmie’s eyes focused on Lois, then down at his pants. He slowly started doing them up, almost as if in a dream. When they were reasonably secure, Lois grabbed his wrists, and pulled him upright, then keeping hold of one wrist, dragged him out of the store.

She hailed a cab, pushed him into it, then shoved him over so she could sit next to him. “Just drive! We need to get away from here. I’ll give you an address in a minute!” she told the cab driver. He took off.

Lois turned to Jimmie. “It’s okay now, it’s over, Jimmie. What’s your address, I’ll take you home.”

He rotated his head, looked at her, then burst into tears, and collapsed into her arms, sobbing. She stroked his hair, but finally had to fish his wallet out of his trousers to get his address, which she gave to the cab driver.

When they got to the apartment building, she paid the cabbie, then dragged Jimmie out, and walked him to the front door of the complex. By this time, he had done crying, but looked hollow-eyed, old, and unutterably tired. With some prompting, he found his keys and unlocked the door.

Lois finally got Jimmie to his front door, unlocked it, and pushed him inside. As soon as the door opened, a small, black cat with a white flash on its neck and on one paw appeared, then stopped and looked suspiciously at Lois. She shut the door quickly.

Lois bent forward and said, “Well, hello! And who might you be?”

Jimmie squatted down and started stroking the cat, who arched her back to allow it. “This is my darling Chloe, the love of my life.”

Lois looked around the empty, cheerless apartment, then back at her friend, her eyes smarting. “Oh, Jimmie,” was all she could say.

He looked up at her, eyes red, tears streaming down his face, and said, “Yeah, Happy April fucking Fool.”

© Copyright, JamesLlewellyn at Lushstories.com, April, 2021.
All Rights Reserved.
May not be copied in any medium without the express, written consent of the author.