“Yous was supposed to buy Andy a hairbrush, it’s on the list of things I ‘ave to gift ‘er as ‘er Nona,” Masha shouted.
“I got ‘er the stavro,” Vasilis said, referring to the traditional gold cross the godmother must gift the baby, adding “But what’s the point in giving ‘er a hairbrush when she’s bald?”
“An’ now everyone will see she’s bald ‘cos yous malaka donkey ate ‘er new knitted bonnet from ‘arrrods,” Masha countered.
“Perhaps Tassia could comb Andy’s sideburns up to cover ‘er baldness,” Vasilis suggested.
“I’m surprised yous just don’t suggest the baby borrows Bald Yannis’ toupee an’ ‘ave done with it,” Masha yelled sarcastically.
“Don’t worry Masha, I knitted Andromeda a little white bonnet and matching booties. I’d be happy to give them to you,” Deirdre interjected.
“Did-Rees, yous is a life-saver,” Masha replied. “I never knew there was so many things I ‘ad to get the baby as ‘er godmother, but likely it will be the nearest I get to a baby with the way he performs in the bedroom,” she added, rolling her eyes and nodding her head disparagingly in her husband’s direction.
“That reminds me Vasili, I ‘ave yous Viagra ‘ere, save you popping into the pharmacy,” Vangelis the chemist announced at full volume, tossing a packet of pills across the taverna, to Vasilis’ mortification.
“I’m sure one day you’ll have a baby of your own,” Deirdre reassured Masha, squeezing her hand.
“I ‘opes so Did-Rees, there’s more to life than being a famous weather girl. I do despair sometimes though as Vasilis thinks he is getting a tad old to be a new father.”
“Nonsense he’s in his prime, he’s not even ninety yet,” Takis interrupted. “Remember old Kyrios Moltos? He ‘ad ‘is first set of twins at ninety-two.”
“Aye, but they sent ‘im round the bend,” Tall Thomas reminded Takis.
“Nonsense, it wasn’t the babies, he was already ‘alf senile ‘cos of his unnatural aversion to olive oil,” Takis insisted.
“I cant’s believe ‘ow he got to that ripe old age without ever touching oil,” Prosperous Pedros pondered aloud, convinced olive oil was the quintessential key to a long life.
“Ah, but he did drinks oil every day of his life, he just never knew it, ‘cos first ‘is mother and then all ‘is wives mixed it in with his wine,” Vangelis the chemist pronounced.
Secure in his superior decision to remain single Prosperous Pedros opined, “That proves it then, olive oil extends yous life an’ marriage an’ babies send yous senile,” earning him filthy looks from all the women present. Deirdre was about to unleash a scathing rejoinder in Pedros’ direction when the gruff Mancunian voice of Victor loudly blasphemed “these Greeks have put olive oil and lemon all over my chicken, it’s not normal I tell you Vera. Have they never heard of tomato ketchup?”
Chapter 42: Plucking The Parrot
“This is the life,” Quentin said to his wife, plucking the first enticingly fragrant fruit from their orange tree. “What a superb breakfast we are about to enjoy. We can dip bread into our very own olive oil, feast on newly laid eggs from our very own hens and wash it all down with freshly squeezed orange juice from our very own trees.”
“All to be savoured in idyllic peace as we drink in the wonderful views,” Deirdre enthused.
“It looks as though you spoke too soon darling,” Quentin groaned as the familiar cackle of the old crone from next door reached his ears. Fotini emerged from their chicken coop attempting to hide the last of her pilfered eggs in her bloomers.
“Get a move on, we ‘ave to be quick if we want the best pews for the baby’s baptism,” Fotini instructed them.
Quentin gawped open-mouthed at the sight of Fotini dressed in a purple flecked hideous old lady dress. The elastic in her pop socks had obviously seen better days, drooping in wrinkles round her ankles and leaving her hairy legs on full display. Her frumpish appearance was offset by an oversized hat garishly decorated with bright green and orange feathers. The bald patches on the newly plucked parrot perched on her shoulder hinted at the provenance of Fotini’s feathers.
“Pedros said you had been banned from the christening,” Quentin huffed; determined Fotini would not be joining them.
“Po po, the church is a public building, I ‘ave every right to go and spit on the baby,” Fotini argued, shuffling furtively to prevent an egg falling out of her bloomers. “Anyways I ‘ave a present for the ugly little side-burned sprog,” she added as the egg rolled down her leg, smashing at her feet and splashing her pop socks with yellow yolk.
“Well you are most definitely not driving there with us. We refuse to be held responsible for your antics,” Quentin brusquely proclaimed, putting his foot down as he recalled in horror how Fotini had relished disrupting the wedding of Fat Christos and Tassia.
“Po po, yous is poor neighbours,” Fotini sneered, sticking a hat pin in the parrot’s bottom. The parrot’s angry squawk of “ouch” was immediately replicated by Quentin as the belligerent bird flew from Fotini’s shoulder, flapping frantically due to its lack of a full body of feathers before embedding its claws in his scalp.
“Yous will ‘ave to take me along now or I will report yous to the police for kidnapping my parrot.”
“Report away, I refuse to take you to the christening and that is my final word,” Quentin roared.
“Malaka,” Fotini retorted, rushing back to her own house screeching “Nitsa hurry up, we’ll ‘ave to go in yous taxi.”
“I cant’s go any faster, Fotis’ moustache is glued to my forehead with industrial strength wood varnish,” Nitsa called out. “Yous will ‘ave to cut ‘is tash off to free me.”
“Yous is not cutting my ‘andsome ‘andlebar moutache off, it’s my pride and joy,” Fotis objected as Fotini menacingly approached with the garden shears, asking “’Ow on earth did yous two get stuck together?”
“I varnished my moustache to make it all shiny for the christening. I went in to give Nitsa a smacker on the forehead, but got stuck to ‘er,” Fotis explained.
“Well don’t be a wimp, it ‘as to be cut off,” Fotini insisted, waving the garden shears.
“I may have some hair removal cream that could do the trick,” Hattie volunteered, rummaging round in the breadbin and coming up with a scrunched up tube. “Oh drat, it’s empty.”
“I borrowed it to get the ‘air off my chest,” Nitsa owned up.
“Then there’s nothin’ for it but the shears,” Fotini gloated, snipping the two handlebars from Fotis’ face. The two elaborate ends of his moustache remained stiffly fixed in place on Nitsa’s forehead but none of them had a razor to shave them away.
“It is hardly noticeable at all if you comb your hair over it,” Hattie lied as the four of them piled into the taxi to head to the church.
Chapter 43: Oiling The Cat
Thea was furious with her fiancé for oiling the cat. “I’m sick of it leaving ‘air balls all over the place, yous know I’m allergic,” Tasos said in his defence, “an’ I ‘eard Vangelis the chemist swear olive oil is a proven remedy.”
“Well yous should ‘ave warned me it was all greasy, look at the mess it’s made of my dress,” Thea shouted, pointing at the cat shaped stain standing out in stark relief on the cream linen outfit she had donned for the christening.
“I think there’s still time to shove it in the washin’ machine, my little baklava,” Tasos suggested.
“Don’t be daft, there’s no time to dry it,” Thea admonished. She was at cross purposes though, not realising he intended putting the cat rather than her dress, through the spin cycle. “An’ take those teeth out, yous look like a donkey.”
“I’m gettin’ used to ‘em now,” Toothless Tasos protested. “If I take ‘em out I won’t be able to eat anything at the christenin
g party.”
“Well at least pop over to the ‘ardware shop and see if Bald Yannis ‘as somethin’ to file ‘em down. It was most unfortunate the dentist did a runner before he could fix ‘em,” Thea lamented.
“He ‘ad no choice the way Bald Yannis went after ‘im with ‘is chainsaw,” Tassos shuddered.
“I never thought I’d feel sorry for ‘ardware shop man but I ‘eard the moronic dentist took ‘alf ‘is teeth out and it were the wrong ones,” Thea sighed.
“’Ow come Yanni didn’t stop ‘im at the time?” Tasos asked. “’Appen he left ‘is chainsaw in the shop.”
“Well the big lump is terrified of the dentist and asked to be knocked out with that newfangled gas stuff. He didn’t know till he came round the dentist ‘ad taken out all of ‘is top teeth instead of the rotten lower ones, leavin’ im with ‘oles in ‘is gums to match the bullet ‘oles in his bottom,” Thea explained.
“I dont’s blame ‘im for threatening to slice ‘im to pieces,” Tasos said. “I knows what it’s like to be missing yous teeth an’ eat nothin’ but liquidised food. To lose ‘em at the ‘ands an incompetent dentist is too much.”
“An’ it turns out it wasn’t the first time. The dentist ‘ad been struck off for ‘is dodgy dealings and was practicing without a licence. Looks like yous ‘ad a lucky escape Taso.”
“He’s still gone and left me with these massive donkey dentures,” Tasos groaned.
“But at least yous didn’t pay ‘im yet, so look on the bright side. Yous still ‘ave the money to get a new set an’ in the meantime yous can file those horrors down. Now get over to the ‘ardware shop for a file while I change my frock.”
Tales of Bald Yannis’ missing teeth had been exaggerated out of all reality on the village gossip vine; in fact the gossip was so embellished it was nothing more than a pack of lies conjured when Bald Yannis was spotted entering the dentist’s surgery. He had never so much as sat down in the dentist’s chair or been gassed to have his rotten teeth extracted, and his mouldering molars were still firmly in place.
He had taken Agapimeni to the dentist as his beloved goat had broken a tooth chewing down too hard on an olive comb. The dentist had flatly refused to let Agapimeni sit in his chair, snootily declaring “Do you think I trained all these years to put my specialist hands in the filthy mouth of a goat? Get the vile creature out of here at once.”
Insulted to the core on behalf of his darling pet goat Bald Yannis picked up the nearest instrument of torture and chased the dentist round his office with the drill. In an attempt to defend himself the dentist stalled Bald Yannis by stabbing him in the hand with a needle full of quick acting novocaine. Bald Yannis’ hand went immediately numb, causing him to drop the drill which instantly drilled a hole in his foot. Dragging the goat behind him Yannis left, screaming “yous ‘aven’t ‘eard the last of this yous malaka,” only to return five minutes later waving his trusty whirring chainsaw.
Only the presence of Pancratius the village policeman prevented the incensed Bald Yannis from slicing the dentist to pieces. The policeman had come to arrest the dentist for practicing illegally after being struck off in a different province for fraudulently carrying out unnecessary and incompetent work, and for failing to issue taxable receipts.
Toothless Tasos stared blankly at Bald Yannis’ full set of ropey old stained teeth before saying, “It’s ‘ard to believe ‘ow quickly yous got a new set of false teeth that looks so real.”
“I see that livin’ with Thea ‘as addled yous brain more than usual,” Bald Yannis mocked, having no clue about the latest baseless rumours. “Now what do yous want, I dont’s ‘ave all day to stand around gassing?”
“I want a sharp file,” Toothless Tasos requested and then thinking it might please Thea if he was able to degrease the cat he added, “I need somethin’ to get rid of oil too.”
“Yous could spray it with this oven cleaner and then rub it ‘ard with this abrasive brush,” Bald Yannis suggested, presuming Tasos was referring to oil stains from his motorbike.
“’Appen that will do nicely,” Tasos said, paying for his purchases and thinking he might just have time to spray the cat as his beloved goddess always took hours to get ready.
Wearing an expensive lemon silk dress from the home shopping channel Thea emerged from the bedroom to discover her fiancé chasing the cat round the house and attempting to spray it with oven cleaner. In his other hand he brandished an abrasive brush he was using to swipe randomly at the cat.
“’Ave yous lost yous marbles?” Thea screamed in horror, scooping the half-deranged cat into her arms.
“I was only trying to degrease it,” Tasos said.
“With oven cleaner, you cat-hating malaka,” Thea bellowed in disbelief. Struggling to get free, the cat shot out of Thea’s arms, scurrying to find a safe hiding place up the chimney. The corrosive effect of the oven cleaner left a cat shaped hole in Thea’s lemon silk dress as the fabric melted away.
Firing a stream of expletives in Tasos’ direction Thea ran to get changed yet again for the christening, warning him “If yous goes near the cat again yous will be eatin’ them stupid donkey teeth.”
Chapter 44: Dunking In Oil
“Yous sideburns are coming along nicely, they bring out a lucky resemblance to Andy,” Tassia told Fat Christos as the two of them dressed baby Andromeda in a pristine white robe for the christening.
“They are annoyingly itchy but ’opefully will stop any gossip about Slick Socrates bein’ er father,” Christos replied. “Now Andy’s ‘andlebar moustache ‘as grown in, lets ‘ope folks dont’s start saying she looks like Nitsa’s new boyfriend, Fotis.”
“They might as well gossip Bald Yannis is ‘er father ‘cos she’s bald like ‘im,” Tassia sniggered.
“Bald but beautiful, yes, yous is so gorgeous,” Christos cooed to the baby. “I ‘opes all goes off smoothly today.”
“Well at least Socrates won’t be there. Soula says he is still stuck up in Osta tryin’ to get ‘er father off for claiming the pension of a frozen corpse,” Tassia sighed in relief.
“’Appen he will get the malaka off. There isn’t room to lock everyone up what claimed their dead relatives’ pensions, they’d ‘ave to build new prisons,” Fat Christos reasoned.
“I likes Soula, we both ‘ad ‘orrible fathers but ‘ave turned things round with ‘appy marriages,” Tassia smiled fondly.
Going down on one knee and presenting his wife with a sapphire engagement ring Fat Christos declared “Yous an’ Andy mean the world to me. This is to make up for the Pappas snatching Petula’s engagement ring off yous finger at our wedding. Yous knows ‘ow much my feelings ‘ave grown for yous since we wed. ‘Appen we might even take a belated honeymoon if yous like.”
Tears of happiness dripped down Tassia’s face, soaking the baby. Their marriage may have been one of convenience on both sides, providing a father for her baby and a supermarket empire for her husband, but a true bond of love had grown between them, cemented by the happy addition to their little family.
A sudden chill of foreboding ran down Tassia’s spine, prompting her to say, “I ‘opes it isn’t a mistake ‘aving the Pappas officiate at the christening. I’d forgotten ‘ow he accused me of bein’ a thief at our wedding an’ what a nasty piece of work he can be.”
“Everythin’ will be all right my love, the Pappas ‘as turned over a new leaf since he gave up ‘is drunken wife beating ways,” the ever optimistic Christos assured his wife, pulling himself off the floor to answer the door to Quentin and Deirdre.
“We come bearing gifts for the baby on this joyous occasion,” Quentin enthused.
“We weren’t sure whether to bring them to the church or your home. Oh do open them now,” Deirdre encouraged. “We wanted Andy to appreciate gifts that are unique to Idaho. We hope maybe one day she will visit us ther
e as we consider her family.”
Touched to think his little cherub was so fondly regarded Fat Christos ripped the wrapping paper from a bottle of 44 North Idaho vodka, diplomatically saying, “I think Andy might be a bit young yet for imbibing strong spirits.”
“Oh dear, the vodka was meant for Masha, not the baby,” Deirdre explained “we thought being Russian she would enjoy our home state’s special gluten free tipple. This one is definitely for the baby; it will help to soothe her stubble rash.”
Tassia exclaimed delightedly as she unwrapped a parcel of natural lavender soap from Idaho’s ‘Whatever Floats Your Goat’ handmade goat’s milk soap company. It was followed by a box of Idaho Spud Bars, potato shaped chocolate treats stuffed with marshmallow. Fat Christos was about to object to the candy on the grounds fat ran in his family until he remembered Andy had been spared his obesity genes.
“Oh how cute,” Tassia cried, holding up a miniature Idaho spud tee shirt and popping the matching baseball cap on Andy’s head. The baby gurgled with pleasure, having just spotted the half-bald parrot clamped to Quentin’s head.
“We’d best be gettin’ to the church now,” Fat Christos said, reminding his wife to bring along the stuffed goat to keep Andy occupied. “An’ don’t forget Masha’s vodka, yous never knows when she needs it.”
Masha had gone all out; dressing for the occasion stylishly in a floor-length lime-green velvet evening gown with a neckline so low cut it was daringly ‘vampish.’ Attempting to drag Onos the donkey’s head out of its saucer of ouzo Masha fumed at her husband, “Ow many times does I ‘ave to tell yous the pregnant donkey shouldn’t be drinking?”
The donkey was enraged Masha wouldn’t leave her in peace on her day off from carting round Petros the postman’s temporary replacement, as Petros was still on strike. Rearing her head in annoyance she head-butted the ever present pan of borscht simmering on the stove, causing the contents to splash over Masha’s voluptuous silicone bosom.
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