Shhh! Scribbler at Work

Survival of the Fittest

(prompt: 'fit' 29/6/2018)

"Tell you what, me old mate -" Baz lurched ever so slightly, causing the random thought to cross his mind that they just didn't make bar-stools the way they used to, back in the 'good old days'. That thought wrestled in his brain with whatever the point was he was about to make. After a few hopeless moments of trying to remember, he surrendered, but managed to continue as if this was what he'd intended to say all the time.

"Mebbe all I know about carpentry could fit on the back of a postage stamp," and his look was triumphant, filled with total belief in his charm and amazing command of the situation - any time, any place. No doubt about it, with a few drinks under his belt, he was fit as a fiddle... take a king's ransom to stop him. And what had started out to be a hissy-fit about the shortcomings of today's world, became an impossible-to-stop fit of the giggles. His gentle mirth had a short lifetime before turning into a laugh fit to burst... uhrr something! And his increasingly befuddled mind flipped tracks again, until he found a new one that fit like a glove. Jeans! "That's it," he said loudly and triumphantly. "Jurst take a gander at me bloody trendy jeans." And he stuck one leg out for Joe and anyone else who fit the bill as an admirer to take a Captain Cook at his jeans' shredded knees and ragged bottoms. "Bloody 'isterical if yer arsk me. Wife wouldn't have let me go milkin' in rags like these, once 'pon a long time ago."

Joe was obviously fighting laughter, but disguised it well with a loud fit of coughing. "Ahh... harrumph, hurr-humm-humm. They'd be the 'one size fits all' type? Is that what you're saying?" And the eye farthest from his mate winked slyly at George, the bartender, seemingly unable to resist a bit more Baz-razzing when he asked, "Inspired by that dolly bird we saw in here the other night, hey?" And when his mate spluttered so hard in mid sip of his handle of beer, he spilled a decent amount, Joe continued, "... she was one fit chick alright. And you, Bazza, you old bugger... YOU were falling all over her like you reckoned you were some sort of perfect fit for a piece of class like her."

"Piece of arse? Izzat what yer said?" Baz wasn't laughing now. Abruptly he looked fit to be tied.

"Nah! CLASS I said... Get your ears washed out, why dontcha?" Joe turned his head ever so slightly, sliding his eyes sideways at his mate before glancing back to the bartender with one raised eyebrow. Knowing his little mate's hearing limitations, he could safely mutter, "This'll be good. One to tell the missus... if I ever get a word in edgeways with her, that is!"

George nodded sympathetically as he polished a glass. And though he had so much in common with those forever-waiting old girls (and young ones, too) at home, his mechanical action clearly showed his bewilderment about 'letting the punishment fit the crime'. He often wished he knew what he'd done wrong - he'd have enjoyed it SO much more if he'd known the amount of tea-towelling ahead of him - drying glasses AND tears. He'd have told anyone who would have listened... to him.