Charley Mitchell the Bar Stool {Part 4}
by phill
‘Stop right there,
young man.’ Dave had wandered into his bedroom, shaking his head and continuing to mutter to himself over the possibilities of his new-found state. ‘I have informed you that we have work to do, and the first port of call is you setting me straight on this blasted floor. It is downright disrespectful to leave a guest tipped over on their side for an entire night.‘
‘This cannot possibly be happening to me,’ murmured Dave as he moved mechanically towards Charley’s skewed form and set it up straight on the floor.
‘Ah, much better. You’ve proven yourself able to perform basic tasks successfully, so we can move onto the next item on the agenda: your complete and utter inability to defend yourself.‘
At this, Dave switched immediately to a rose-pink version of the greasy indignation he had displayed the night before. ‘I wouldn’t call it an inability to defend myself, more a general aversion to violence, complemented by my, er, less-than-responsive state that lead me to get roughed up by those two fellows. In any case, I resent you calling my fighting prowess into question. Who are you to judge my form, you’re merely a bar stool, and not too fine a specimen of that!’
Charley could tell that this wasn’t going to be as easy as he had supposed the night before. At that point, Dave’s faux-intellectual’s defences had been down enough that the glimmer of something resembling a decent human being was able to be viewed in all its tiny glory. The morning after brought with it the return of all the barriers that prevented, and no doubt actively repelled, the people around him from seeing the same thing. It was time to get the formalities out of the way.
” What you see before you is indeed a tough old bar stool, but I would have you consider that my name is Charley Mitchell, and history is not so faded that my name would not mean something to an ancient child of the ring reeling down the street. I fought battles against countless opponents inside the ring and out, and most consider me the greatest bar fighter the world has ever seen. So when I tell you that you have no skill when performing that oldest of human tradition, you will agree! Do you hear me?“
It seemed that only the most forceful of words were going to make it through to Dave’s brain, because as he reeled against the tide of Charley’s speech, he nodded and stood up straighter. ‘Yes sir!’
‘Then enough of this dithering about while you try and weasel your way around your own inadequacy. Pick me up this instant, it’s time to begin your training!’
With a yelp, Dave gripped two legs of the outraged stool and hefted him into the air. It was a lot heavier than expected, and within seconds his arms were trembling and an avalanche of sweat beads tumbling down the sides of his face.
‘Bloody hell, I can’t take much more of this,’ grunted Dave.
‘Hah! We have not even started, lie down on your back and start pressing me, boy!‘
To be continued next Friday!
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