Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches, and photography published in many publications around the world. He yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight; this too may pass, yet.
The Blackbird and Mavis the Mermaid
The blackbird was getting tired; it had flown for miles. It was about thirty miles off the coast of Cornwall and still heading further out.
It had spent the morning in and around its familiar little street in Camborne, where it had spent its entire life looking for worms and shit, bathing in puddles and arguing with the local starlings. Blackbirds never migrate and this little fellow had been thinking about this, in between feeding and had suddenly thought, what the fuck, I’m out of here.
He took off straight away, without visiting relatives or friends, without provisions of any kind and, more importantly, without studying the weather.
When he had reached the sea, he stopped for a few minutes in awe at such a huge stretch of water, then without knowing quite why he had taken off in that direction.
He was now about twenty miles out, as I have just said and he was extremely tired, he was past the point of panic and had come to the conclusion that if he did not find the end of all this water soon, he would die.
It was then that Mavis the Mermaid appeared swimming below, she was whistling an old sea shanty while masturbating a giant sea turtle which happened to be swimming along beside her.
The blackbird called down desperately to the Mermaid, “Please Miss, could you help me? I’ve done something very stupid and if I don’t find the means to correct my error of judgement soon, I am afraid that
I shall perish out here in no man’s land and my poor feathered body will never be seen again!”
“You fucking what? Speak English you cunt! What the fuck are you going on about, you dopey little shit?” replied Mavis, sounding more than a wee bit pissed off, if you know what I mean (Well, she was on the job!)
“To make my predicament clear and simple, I am in need of help, I think that I am dying!” explained the blackbird.
“Look, I am a very busy lady, but if you let me finish off this customer, I’ll see what I can do to help you. Look, this turtle’s nearly there, he’s started throbbing!” replied Mavis the Mermaid with a wet smirk.
There followed a deep, guttural groaning from the turtle, a shudder and then the just relieved creature disappeared downwards into the depths of the ocean, leaving the Mermaid alone with the blackbird.
“Ok, so you need some help in getting back to Cornwall, do you motherfucker?” asked the Mermaid.
“Quite so!” replied the blackbird.
“Right, fly down and land upon my scaly yet beautiful, shapely arse!” instructed Mavis with a sensuous wriggle.
“Look, I really do not think that any kind of sexual activity, no matter how pleasant, will help matters any!” replied the blackbird with an edge of despair to its voice.
“Listen motherfucker, I wasn’t talking about sex, if I’d have meant business I would have demanded to see the colour of your motherfucking money first, you arrogant little shithead! I have a good mind to leave you out here alone!” yelled Mavis in an emotional frenzy.
“I do beg your pardon, I did not mean to offend you, please accept my humble apology and continue with your offer of assistance!” pleaded the blackbird, trying to suck up to her like a good ‘un.
“Ok, but don’t fuck with me, I really haven’t got the patience, I’ve been on my friggin’ back all night, I’ve lost thirteen scales; I was ripped off by my first punter and I keep telling everyone that I don’t swallow but they all seem to forget at just the right, or should I say wrong, moment!” said Mavis tiredly.
“I promise to raise no more objections to any proposals which you see fit to make!” assured the blackbird.
“Right, fly down and land on my arse. I can manage to swim by just moving my tail and using my hands; I’m very good with my hands but you’ve already seen that with the turtle!” instructed Mavis.
The blackbird did as he was told and was soon standing upon the Mermaid’s damp ring-piece. Mavis turned and started off towards the coast of Cornwall. She had had a busy night but was still young and full of spunk (I mean stamina!).
Within an hour, the coast was in sight.
“Look, there’s Cornwall!” shouted Mavis over her shoulder to the blackbird.
The blackbird could not reply for he had seen the coast at exactly the same time as Mavis had and was silently weeping tears of joy.
Presently Mavis swam up onto the beach, the little blackbird hopped off of her arse and stood upon the sand exhausted.
“Listen, I’ve brought you here safe and sound but I’ve really got to get going now, I’m running late, I should have been over by that sewage pipe over to the right about an hour ago, that’s where all my punter’s go turd-crawling!” said Mavis hurriedly.
“But can’t you wait for a few minutes while I search for something nice amongst the driftwood to pay you for your services?” enquired the blackbird, finding new strength after walking about on terra firma for a few seconds.
“No, this ride was free, on the house you might say, but the next fucker won’t be. Look after yourself birdie and remember if you ever get frustrated here on land you know where to come to find the best relief, goodbye and good luck, motherfucker!”
And with that Mavis the Mermaid swam off to the right, the blackbird after a few more minutes rest, took to the air once more and headed off to Camborne. He made it without any other incidents and now never leaves the two or three streets where he lives.