Vajazzling?? What's that?

Phew....my chimney clung on last night even though the wind went wild! It was much calmer this morning, thank goodness. I went down to the writing group, there were only four of us again...I have yet to meet the elusive Peter...but only Kate and I had actually done our homework. We both had written too much and were struggling to pare the stories down. When I finished Sylvia and Janet asked, "What is a vajazzle?"...sigh...oh well I will think of something people have heard of next time.


Something Nasty in the Woodshed

“So Dave, where’s the delectable Paula tonight?” Dave rolled his eyes, That damn beauty course, she’s obsessed.” Dave took another swig of beer. “It’s costing me a bloody fortune…nails, hair, sunbed...bloody credit card’s taken a beating.” “Hey don’t knock it mate, my Lisa’s gone to pot since the baby. I mentioned the gym the other day and she actually threw a bottle at me. Bloody hell she should be thanking me for caring how she looks. They moan when you don’t then they moan when you do, you can’t fucking win…’nother pint, mate?” She’s practising in the shed…sorry the salon…tonight. Spends all day in there now since I titivated it. Her mate’s round for javazzling whilst she does something or other…I don’t know if it's treatments or a bottle of wine. Fancy some crisps?” “Thank God we don’t have to faff around, shower ‘n’ shave…we don’t need javelling, what the fuck is that anyway, sounds bloody painful?” “God knows…pint?” “At least you’re going home to a looker, I’m going home to wife covered in baby sick slobbing on the sofa.” He nudged Dave, “Could be on a promise tonight, mate.” “Well I need some return for my money, in fact think I’ll go and check on my investment now…see ya.”
Getting in the car Dave pulled out his mobile, “Hey sugar I’m coming home…want me to come down to the sh…er salon….what? I don’t care…look I’m…no I’m coming baby…I’m here now” He shoved the phone in his pocket and wove his way down to the shed. “Hey baby, open another bottle of javazzal, Davey Boy’s here.”
“No Dave, please. “Paula, let me in, I’ve paid for all this…your nails, your face even the bottles of javazzal, open the bloody door.” He took off his jacket and started on his belt. Slowly the door opened. “Dave it’s gone wrong, oh Dave.” His drunken fingers fumbled with his fly. “No mistake Sweetie, let’s heat up that sunbed.” “Oh Dave,” sobbed Paula. “Hah” the belt was undone. Paula stood in the doorway. Her face was swollen and purple. Her bloated lips quivered. “Jesus Christ!” “It’s all gone wrong, Oh Dave…” Dave gaped in revulsion and it wasn’t just his trousers that dropped towards the floor.