Don’t Blame Dennis


Suggested Audio Candy:


[1] The Verve “Lucky Man”

[2] The Verve “Bittersweet Symphony”



Hello there. My name is Dennis. Hope it’s okay me just popping up unannounced but I really need a friend right now and you, well let’s just say, you have a kind face. I have a story to share if that’s not too much trouble; I promise I won’t keep you long and appreciate that you may already be hard pushed so I’ll try my level best to give you the short version of events. In the event that I do begin to waffle, just give me a gentle nudge or reminder. It’s just, there aren’t many people I can confide in nowadays; at least not since my run of bad luck started. Right now I’m in an awful pickle but I’ll try not to harp on about my personal woe the whole time. Alas, bad luck tends to follow me about like a forlorn puppy so I’m not sure I’ll have a great deal else to offer in the way of conversation but you haven’t slammed the door in my teeth yet so I’m taking that as a positive sign.


Would you mind terribly if I came in and took the weight off my feet? Today has been a real humdinger of a day and I’m all but spent. Yes a macaroon and mug of camomile tea sounds delightful but you may not want to use your finest crockery. You see, I’m a tad clumsy. I’ll explain all in due course but for now why don’t you just pour it into a Tupperware bowl and I’ll sip it from that. These macaroons don’t contain coconut do they? I have a fearsome allergy I’m afraid; the last time I tried some my face bloated to almost twice the size. Tell you what, best not take any chances; refreshments will be fine. I apologize for the mess on your plush new carpet; I sidestepped a dog turd in the high street on the way over and relocated my boot in a pile of horse manure for my efforts. It’s dry, I assure you. A little carpet shampoo and it’ll soon be as right as rain once more. Would’ve removed my footwear at the door but my feet swell when I’m nervous and I’m lodged inside them for the time being.


Have you ever suffered a day that you would rather have just forgotten? I empathize as I have seven of them in each successive calendar week. I believe it is refered to as a series of unfortunate events. The problem is that mine has been running longer than Melrose Place and I can’t seem to catch a break no matter how hard I try to turn the tide. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when my ill-fortune started but, if memory serves, it coincided with my first step into adolescence. One’s first pubic hair is supposed to be a joyous occasion; the sort of affair you take a picture of and frame above your mantle. Mine didn’t work out so well; it turned out to be ingrown and my entire naval became infected. I put it down to beginner’s luck and soldiered on through puberty. Alas, the expected glut of potential suitors never materialized and I held onto my virginity until…well now actually.


Maybe the problem stems from me being conceived in a shopping trolley at Wal-Mart. My balance is shocking and I spent most of my high school life treading on toes and making the wrong kind of name for myself. I did have a girlfriend for a short duration during summer break; Serena I believe her name was. She didn’t speak a lick of English as she was an exchange student from Turin so, even though I have a tendency to say the wrong thing at the wrong moment, she was unperturbed and willing to take our brief relationship to the next level. I was ever so nervous sliding my hand up her sweater for the very first time and had terrible trouble unfastening her bra. Things got so bad in fact that I managed to snag a little of her back fat in my wrist watch and she ended up in the emergency room, with me in close tow I might add. It took nearly an hour to remove me from her and the very next day she was back off to bonny Italia leaving me to nurse a severely bruised ego.


It wasn’t all bad as later on that summer I landed myself my very first part-time job at the local Wings For Kings. I hardly so much as donned my apron before tragedy struck and the fast-food restaurant burned to the ground. Apparently someone left the deep fat fryer on overnight but they never did get to the bottom of it. Fortunately, I now had momentum on my side and soon after I got another job; this time at a nearby service station. I lasted thirteen minutes and I still swear to this day that that cranky old coot asked for diesel in his truck. Nevertheless, somebody had to pay the price and it was last in, first out so my career pumping gasoline was decidedly more fleeting than I’d envisaged. By this point, I was starting to wonder whether I was cursed. I didn’t ask for bad luck to follow me around but it seemed to like the company so I saw no foul in allowing it to tag along for a little. Boy, was that a dud move!


Had I mentioned that I positively adore animals? That’s right, they’re a man’s best friend. After my first goldfish Jaws drowned, I decided it was time to go for a more substantial pet so I talked my parents into buying me my very own Guinea Pig. I named him Gus and we fast become best friends. I’d read him Enid Blyton books by candlelight each night before I slumbered and he really seemed to take it all in. Then I sneezed and knocked over the candelabra. I’ll tell you what, sawdust sure does go up quickly. Poor Gus didn’t stand a chance. I even tried to fan the flames using the nearby curtain but this proved ineffectual and soon the entire house was ablaze. My parents were suspicious of me from that point forward, especially seeing as Wings For Kings had ended up similarly ashen just months earlier. Consequently, they swore me off pets for the remainder of my teens.


Eventually the time came for me to spread my wings and vacate the nest. I was twenty-three and the world was just beginning to open up to me so I saw this as an opportunity to broaden my horizons. For once something went right in my life and I secured a job that I could perform from home which suited me down to the ground. Turns out my voice is somewhat arousing; I’m very nasal and constantly in need of decongestant but this apparently worked in my favor when it came to becoming a sex-line operator. I know, I know. We never look like the type do we? Tell you what, grab me a quick refill on this delicious camomile and I shall give you an impromptu performance. We’ll make it fun; you can tell me what you think. Can I ask for no sugar this time though please; I’m diabetic and too much cane has been known to make me go a little doolally.


“Hello. Well aren’t you just the ticket. Guess what? I’m touching myself right now. Do you know where? In the bottom. That’s right, I’m touching myself in the bottom right now and it feels good. Feels bad but feels good. I do like being naughty. Here, I’ll try my forefinger too. Oh dear. You couldn’t swing by and take me to the nearest emergency room could you? My knuckle appears to have become lodged. Medic!”


I’m paraphrasing but you get the idea. Pretty hot huh? It’s okay, I won’t blush. My cheeks are always this rosy. Some sort of allergy to dust mites or something. The glow will surpass in time; try not to let it distract you from your macaroon. You seem to be edging away from me; have I said anything that may have caused offence? The whole sex-line thing, that’s not me you know, just a means to an end. It afforded me the chance to finally acquire a new pet. I called him Mr Fuzzytail. Alas, he’s not with us anymore. Must I? Do I really need to relive the ordeal? Okay then but only because you make nice tea. The truth is that my kitten Mr Fuzzytail and I only ever shared one rendezvous. It’s tragic I know. It was an elementary error to make; laundry to my left, Mr Fuzzytail to my right and never the twain shall meet. Except, the twain did. One 40 degree spin cycle later and Mr Fuzzytail had the fuzziest coat in town. And I learned a thing or two about taxidermy in the process. Do you have a cat? Touchy subject huh?


Well look at that. I’m down to my tea leaves and you must have other things to be getting along with I’m sure. I don’t suppose I could be a royal pain and ask to use your latrine before I leave as I pierced my bladder with a knitting needle when I was six and it just doesn’t have the same capacity as it used to. Oh it’s busted huh? Sounds like a little of my bad luck may be rubbing off on you. Please don’t push me; I get nervous and my feet start swelling again. It’s agonizing. I’m leaving; I’m truly sorry if I over-stayed my welcome. I must say that I love how you’ve pruned your conifers. Tell you what, I’ll pop over the same time next week and we can…hello. Hello. Your door appears to have shut on itself. Don’t worry I have my screwdriver, I’ll see if I can fix it for you.


That’s funny; where are those sirens coming from? And what’s that funny twin-barreled object peering around your drapes? What do you mean dance? Haven’t I told you, I possess two left feet. Okay, okay, calm down. How’s this? I’m a little rusty so I apologize in advance if I’m a little heavy-footed. It’s these feet you see; I don’t do well under duress. Oh you do have a cat after all. Oopsie. He’s alright look, just sleeping. They go all floppy when they sleep. Hello officers. I’ll leave kitty right here look. How delightful; is that a taser gun? I’ve never seen one of those before. Would you mind terribly if I touch it?


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