Luke's Diary: An Unlucky Man In A Zombie Apocalypse. Entries 957 - 1157

Entry 981: Tuesday 4th June 2019

Entry 981
Tuesday 4th June 2019

What an evening! Nikki has just left after what I can only describe as a disastrous evening with her, me, Mum and Auntie Meryl. I am so angry!

Mum said that one of the chicken farms on the island seemed to have an unusually large number of chickens, meaning chicken breasts were on offer in Sainsbury's, subsequently meaning Mum decided to cook something fancy. I was dubious and I was right to be...

The evening started with Nikki and I sat at the dining table opposite Auntie Meryl. The atmosphere was rather awkward. Whilst Mum was in the kitchen preparing the chicken, I was trying my best to soften the uncomfortable ambience. Auntie Meryl wasn't happy that Nikki was there, and Nikki wasn't happy that Auntie Meryl was there. The thing is I'd spoken to both of them separately earlier in the day and asked them both to make an effort and contribute to a nice evening. They had both told me that they WOULD make an effort, but that just didn't happen. "Nikki," I said, "Did you know Auntie Meryl likes playing bingo?" I was trying to get the two of them chatting. "Why are you telling me that?" asked a blunt Nikki. "Well, you told me that you used to like playing bingo," I said. "The key word there, Luke, is USED TO," said Nikki. "That's two words," said Auntie Meryl. Nikki gave Auntie Meryl a stern look. "Maybe you could go with Auntie Meryl to her bingo sessions?" I said. Auntie Meryl said nothing but looked outraged that I'd made such a suggestion. "I don't think so," said an unimpressed Nikki, "If you were to ask me how much I didn't want to go to bingo with a load of old pensioners I would respond with one word; a lot." "That's two words," said Auntie Meryl, "Did you not do maths at school? I know I'm old, but even I can bl**dy count."  Noticing Nikki's angry expression, I again tried to soften the atmosphere. "You know Auntie Meryl," I said, "If it weren't for Nikki, you and I could still be stuck in that pantry in the old, quarantined area of Newport." "Pantry?" said Auntie Meryl, "What pantry?" "The one that me and you were stuck in," I said. Auntie Meryl looked confused. "You remember," I said, "Newport. You used to live there." "I don't think I've ever lived at a port," said Auntie Meryl, "My old fried Betty Crack used to live on a boat with a fella called Sailor Joe, and they had the boat moored up at a port. Is that what you're thinking of?" "No," I said, "It was when you lived in that special area of the island." "What island?" asked Auntie Meryl. "This island! This island! I loudly said, assertively hitting the table with my index finger. "This is a dining table, not an island," she said. "No!" I loudly said, "I mean we're here on an island aren't we." "We're here on chairs," said a confused Auntie Meryl. "Yes, but the chairs are on an island," I said. "No, the chairs are on the carpet," said Auntie Meryl. "Oh God," I said, rolling my eyes, "This house that we are in is on a street on an island." "Great Britain," said Auntie Meryl. "No!!!" I loudly said, "The Isle of Wight." "That's part of Great Britain isn't it?" said Auntie Meryl. "Well... Yeah..." I said, "But..." "So, are we in Great Britain or not?" asked Auntie Meryl. "Well, we are but we aren't," I said. "What?" said Auntie Meryl, "We are but we aren't? What the frig does that mean? We either are or we aren't. We're not hovering in bl**dy limbo, are we?" "I'm trying to talk to you about when you were in Newport," I said. "I thought you were talking about islands?" said Auntie Meryl. "Newport is on this island," I angrily snapped, again aggressively tapping the table with my index finger. "This is a bl**dy dining table," snapped Auntie Meryl, "What's wrong with you?" "Oh, my God!" I loudly exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to start again. "Look," I calmy said, trying not to get angry, "Me and you were trapped in a pantry, with infected outside trying to get in. Do you remember that?" "Yes," said Auntie Meryl. "Thank God for that," I said, "Now do you remember the great escape?" "Well of course I do," said Auntie Meryl, "Who could forget it?" "Great!" I said, "Now we're getting somewhere. Well, that was all thanks to Nikki." "She's responsible for the great escape?" said Auntie Meryl. "She is indeed," I said. "Is she buggery," said Auntie Meryl, "John Sturges is responsible for that." "Who?" I said. "John Sturges," I said, "He was the director and producer." "Director and producer of what?" I asked. "The Great Escape!" exclaimed Auntie Meryl, "Is that why you were talking about islands? I think that was set on an island. Steve McQueen, 1963. Oh, he was a handsome man." "I'm not talking about THAT great escape you daft cow!" I yelled, "I'm on about what happened to us when we were in the pantry." "What frigging pantry?" said Auntie Meryl. "The one in the community centre in Newport," I said, "Come on, you must remember. Hiding behind the door when those horrible monsters were trying to get in." "That sounds like when the man used to come round to collect the pools money, and I hid behind the door and pretended not to be in," said Auntie Meryl. "This has nothing to do with when the pools man used to come round," I explained, "That was ages ago. I'm talking about the escape." "That film with Steve McQueen?" said Auntie Meryl, "That was in 1963. You said that had nothing to do with it." "Do you remember what happened with me and that massive tin of beans?" I asked. "Do you mean when you were thirteen when you ate a whole tin of beans to yourself, and you got sent home from school for farting too much?" asked Auntie Meryl. "What are you talking about!?" I loudly exclaimed, "I'm talking about being in the pantry." "What bl**dy pantry!?" exclaimed Auntie Meryl. "The one in Newport!" I yelled. "I've never been to Newport!" Auntie Meryl loudly said. "WHAT!?" I yelled, "You lived there a few weeks ago!" "That's a lie!" Auntie Meryl firmly said, "I've never, ever lived in Wales. Me and Betty Crack once pitched up a tent in a field outside Abergavenny, but I've never lived there." "Not that Newport!" I loudly said, "THIS Newport!" "WHAT Newport!?" Auntie Meryl yelled. "The one here!" I yelled. "Where?" asked Auntie Meryl. "Here on the island!" I yelled. "What frigging island?" snapped Auntie Meryl. "THIS ISLAND! THIS ISLAND!" I angrily yelled as I once again aggressively prodded the dining table with my index finger. "THIS IS A DINING TABLE!" Auntie Meryl yelled. "Oh God," I said, throwing my arms in the air, "I give up." "She's doing all this on purpose," said Nikki, "I don't know why you bother. If I were you, I'd just put her in a home." "This is my home," snapped Auntie Meryl. "I mean a different sort of home," said Nikki. "A home with two words that's actually one?" asked Auntie Meryl. "Luke is trying to tell you that it's thanks to me that the GRID soldiers came back to rescue both of you out of that pantry," said Nikki, "Perhaps you should say thank you." "What for?" asked Auntie Meryl, "Being dragged out of a nice cosy space with lots of food, and forced to sit here with a woman who makes Cruella Deville look like the sugar plum fairy, and a man who thinks this table is an island whilst waiting for a questionable chicken-based meal, cooked by a whore whose knickers spend more time round her ankles than they do round her crotch? Thank you? I was better off where I was.  I should be kicking off." "What an ungrateful old woman you are," said Nikki. "Listen to me madam," snapped Auntie Meryl, pointing her finger at Nikki. Suddenly, Mum walked in with a cheery smile and a tray with plates of food. Interrupting Auntie Meryl, she placed the plates of food in front of us all and said that she hoped we all enjoyed them. Mum joined us at the table as we looked down at the questionable looking meal. "Erm... What is it?" I asked. "Well, what does it look like?" asked Mum. "Cat sick," said Auntie Meryl. "Meryl, that is so offensive," said Nikki, "Lynn has been working hard in that kitchen to create this meal." "Working hard?" exclaimed Auntie Meryl, "She put a dead bird in the oven and poured this beige cr*p all over it. I don't think Gordon Ramsay has got to worry about losing those Michelin stars just yet." "Just eat it and see what you think," said Mum, "If you don't like it, just leave it." Nikki took a mouthful. "Mmmm," said Nikki, "I think it's very tasty. What's your secret?" "Basil," said Mum. "Basil?" said Auntie Meryl, "Is that the name of the fella you've probably got tied to your headboard." "Just eat the food," I said to Auntie Meryl. Auntie Meryl frowned, not knowing what to make of the food in front of her. She picked up her fork and prodded the chicken with a suspicious look on her face. She didn't look impressed. Nikki, Mum and I frowned with confusion, wondering what Auntie Meryl was doing. We gave her some strange sidewards looks wondering when she was going to start eating. "Have we got any pot noodles?" asked Auntie Meryl. Nikki slammed her knife and fork down in anger. "My God, you really are the rudest woman I have ever met in my life," she said. "You can sit there and smile whilst you eat this muck if you want, but I want something that doesn't look like it just fell out of the wrong end of an animal." Mum got up, stormed into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a warmed-up pot noodle and slammed in front of Auntie Meryl. "There, you nagging old goat," snapped Mum, "Eat it and shut up."