Goat In The Meze: A farcical look at Greek life (The Greek Meze Series Book 1)

by Katerina Nikolas

  “Keep your ‘ands off my ‘usband,” mail order Masha warned Nitsa “or yous ‘ave Russian mafia to answer to.”

  Petula had quite skilfully applied the generous gift of mail order Masha’s bruise concealing make-up and it had given her enough confidence to venture out of the house. Her husband had even parted with a ten Euro note and told his wife to enjoy her shopping spree at the house clearance sale.

  Petula had recovered mail order Masha’s missing bright red fake finger nail extension from the vomit the new pet goat Nero had thrown up inside the Pappas’ shoes. The borscht appeared to have disagreed with the goat’s stomach and Petula was most happy to be able to return the missing nail extension, imagining it was quite valuable to Masha.

  The Pappas had shown remarkable restraint controlling his temper when he discovered his vomit filled shoes. He had automatically raised his arm in a familiar gesture of violence, but one vicious head butt from the goat had given him pause for thought and he lowered his arm to pat the new pet, only to receive a sharp bite on his hand for his trouble.

  “This was such a clever idea yous ‘ad Taso,” Thea told him “we ‘ave got rid of lots of tat and got back some money for debts.” She was particularly pleased to have sold the television set she had destroyed with a hammer to some old fool who thought it was a fish tank.

  “What they doing ‘ere?” Toothless Tasos queried, spotting his ornamental stuffed swordfish noses being snapped up by Petros the postman.

  “They smell bad,” Thea told him. “I give yous lovely ornamental mirror instead. I cannot abide stuffed smelly swordfish looking at me when watching my favourite soap opera.”

  Toothless Tasos considered Thea had gone too far by purloining and selling his decorative home features, but he did not have the heart to reprimand her in case it brought on another bout of uncontrollable sobbing. Still her act rankled him so he quickly popped home, returning with Thea’s cat displaying a ‘For Sale’ sign round its neck.

  Chapter 96

  The Cookery Lesson

  Stavroula was manically scratching her ample bosom when mail order Masha walked into the taverna kitchen for the promised Greek cooking lesson from her new step-daughter.

  “Po po, these minging myrmingi ant things are itching me something ‘orrible,” Stavroula complained, explaining “Toothless Tasos gives me apricots from ‘is tree and theys is crawling with ants, the nasty things got under my shirt and inside my vest.”

  Mail order Masha had no interest in the goings on of Stavroula’s amply sagging bosom. She was far more interested in checking out her fake finger nail extensions than in examining Stavroula’s rash.

  “What we cooking?” mail order Masha asked her new step-daughter with a disinterested air, as she really was not inclined to expand her culinary skills. She considered herself an accomplished borscht cook and if she fancied anything different they could eat at the taverna.

  “What yous know to cook already?” Stavroula asked her new step-mother. She was quite amazed when mail order Masha nodded her head in the local style and clucked to indicate she had no clue how to boil an egg, cook traditional moussaka, nor fry a simple aubergine.

  “I knows ‘ow to cook borscht,” Masha said emphatically. “I cooks best Borscht in Russia,” not confessing it had made the Onos the donkey and the Pappas’ new pet goat violently sick.

  Stavroula told Masha “here take this knife; I shows you goodly way to peel potatoes.”

  Masha reluctantly picked up the knife to copy her example, but was overly concerned she may knife off another fake nail extension. The two women attempted to make small talk with mail order Masha asking her new step-daughter how she felt when she discovered Vasilis was her father.

  “It shocked me,” Stavroula confided “but always I ‘ave the feeling Gregoris not my real father. He was a difficult man but teach me ‘ow to kill and pluck chickens and butcher goats. I thinks Vasilis an old fool to marry a gold digger, but I needs to get used to calls you Mama. It not comes easy.”

  Mail order Masha confided to Stavroula she and Vasilis were trying for a baby. Stavroula was shocked at the very thought of her ancient father indulging in the necessary act, exclaiming it would likely kill him off. Stavroula regretted having no children of her own but blamed her two useless husbands for both being infertile.

  “I goes now,” mail order Masha announced mid potato, “I promised to pick up treats for the donkey on the way ‘ome.” She considered it a kind gesture when Stavroula gifted her a bagful of potato peelings to take home to the donkey. Clutching the bag of potato peelings mail order Masha flounced out with a flick of her hair extensions, refusing to commit to anymore tedious cookery lessons.

  Chapter 97

  Quentin and Deirdre Have Lunch at Fotini’s House

  Quentin and Deirdre were feeling rather nervous about the impending late luncheon of boiled wild weeds at Fotini’s house, not least because of the communication problem. The usually always obliging Adonis had flatly refused to come along and translate, telling them to take a phrasebook instead. Adonis pleaded a prior engagement rather than admit to his loathing of Fotini.

  As the American couple left Stavroulas to head over to Fotini’s house they were surprised when Nitsa pulled up in her old Mercedes taxi, gesticulating for them to get in the back. Nitsa came to a halt thirty seconds later outside the hardware shop, driving into a wheelbarrow Bald Yannis had for sale. Holding up one finger to indicate Quentin and Deirdre should wait, she kept them captive in the car by utilising its central locking.

  Bald Yannis was relieved to see Nitsa was alone rather than in the company of Fotini. The two women together were more than a match for him.

  “I needs wall paper paste and a brush,” Nitsa requested, as it was taking far too long to decorate Fotini’s living room by using a hammer and nails to attach all the old drachma notes to the wall. “Put them on tab of Prosperous Pedros,” Nitsa demanded, striding quickly to the door with her unpaid for purchases.

  Bald Yannis was quick on his feet to cut her off in the doorway, wielding his chainsaw menacingly and pointing to the prominent sign reminding his customers not to ask for credit as the war is over.

  “Look, that mad Bald Yannis is threatening the harmless old lady with a chainsaw,” Deirdre cried in horror, wondering just how low the hardware shop man could stoop. Quentin would have leapt to Nitsa’s defence as he was a gentleman, but the car’s central locking kept him captive in the back seat.

  “I ave no cash on me,” Nitsa told Bald Yannis who was trying to grab back the unpaid purchases Nitsa was holding onto for dear life. An unseemly struggle ensued as Tall Thomas rushed to his new aunt’s rescue by proffering a fish from the borrowed car he was using while his mobile refrigerated fishing van was drying out, in lieu of a cash payment.

  Bald Yannis quickly calculated the fish was worth more than the cost of the wallpaper paste and brush, and Tall Thomas gladly accepted his change in the form of a patriotic shower curtain. He thought it would make an excellent sunscreen for the windscreen of his mobile refrigerated fish van to prevent it from becoming too hot.

  Nitsa climbed back in the old Mercedes taxi and settled herself on the pile of old magazines so she could better peer through the windscreen. As the old Mercedes taxi ploughed along at a crawl in jerky fits and starts Deirdre wished she had taken a travel sickness pill.

  “Look out,” Quentin screeched as Nitsa swerved to try and hit Onos the donkey who was ambling along with that old fool Vasilis on his back.

  “Malaka I missed ‘im,” Nitsa swore as she failed to connect with the donkey, though she managed to give old Vasilis a nasty fright.

  The rest of the drive to the neighbouring village of Rapanaki was hair-raising but uneventful, though Nitsa had a decided tendency to aim directly for every pot hole they passed. Deirdre whispered to Quentin they would have got there much faster if they had walked. Nitsa managed to bring the old Mercedes taxi to a halt by driving into an olive tree in Fotini’s garde
n. Leaning over from the front seat towards her reluctant passengers she gave an evil smile and holding out her hand demanded “yous pay, is taxi.”

  Quentin and Deirdre did not realise they were honoured to be among only a handful of visitors ever to cross Fotini’s threshold. Fotini was so unpopular it was rare for anyone to visit and unexpected callers were usually greeted with a handful of forcefully lobbed lemons.

  Fotini was delighted to receive a gift from her visitors of a new waterproof bedspread which exactly matched the one she had put on Nitsa’s bed. The gift pleased her so much her guests went up in her estimation and she decided to be on her best behaviour for the duration of their visit. This was a huge concession by Fotini’s usual standards as she considered it one of the few perks of old age to be as deliberately obnoxious as she liked.

  The American pair were taken aback to enter a living room partially papered with nailed up old drachma notes. They considered it a most unusual style in home decor.

  “Fotini must be very rich and eccentric if she can afford to paper her house in bank notes,” Quentin whispered to Deirdre, having no idea the old drachma notes were valueless.

  The American couple almost passed out from the stifling heat as they entered Fotini’s kitchen where she had been boiling a pan of wild weeds over an open fire for the last several hours. Quentin considered it quite quaint Fotini favoured a traditional method of cooking rather than using her electric cooker, having no way of knowing the electric company had cut off her supply when she greeted the meter reading man with a forceful lobby of lemons.

  Four places were set at the kitchen table, in close proximity to the open fire. Fotini heaped huge amounts of boiled horta onto her guest’s plates and liberally doused it with her very finest extra virgin olive oil. Nitsa was sent out into the garden to collect some of the lemons that been lobbed from the windows and these were squeezed over the plates of horta to add the final delicious finishing touch.

  The conversation consisted primarily of exaggerated gestures due to the language barrier, but Quentin and Deirdre managed to convey their enjoyment of the appetising food. In truth they at first found the horta a tad bitter as it is an acquired taste, but they began to acquire a taste for it as they tucked into the second plateful Fotini heaped on them.

  “Yous yitonas,” Fotini repeated over and over, stabbing a finger at her guests. Quentin thumbed through the phrase book and was happy to discover she was telling them they were neighbours rather than insulting them.

  “I thinks they a bit gormless,” Fotini said to Nitsa, not caring if the word for gormless could be found in Quentin’s phrasebook.

  After lunch Quentin and Deirdre gesticulated to their hosts they planned to call in at the neighbouring ‘Lemoni Spiti’ to have another look at their recently acquired falling down house. Fotini very kindly offered them the use of her three-legged olive tree ladder to facilitate their climb over the garden wall.

  “Well that went quite well,” Deirdre said to Quentin, who agreed the experience had hardly been unpleasant at all. Deirdre was most relieved Fotini hadn’t spat on her as she still had nightmares about the old lady spitting all over Tassia at the wedding.

  Chapter 98

  Washing Line Patrol Duty

  Tall Thomas was driving Adonis the mechanic quite mad by pestering him endlessly to hurry up drying out his mobile refrigerated fish van. The borrowed car was not a great substitute as it lacked refrigeration and Tall Thomas worried his lucrative fish selling business would suffer. Some of the fishermen had taken to selling their own catch and there were rumours his business model was about to be copied by a rival from the village of Gavros.

  The sudden appearance of his old aunty Nitsa from the ‘up north’ village of Pirouni had so far proved a disaster. It was her inept driving that had caused the second sinking of his fish van. However he was mindful he had been brought up to be polite to old family members. Prosperous Pedros’ words about her supposed wealth left him thinking he should pursue an amicable relationship with her, just in case she included him in her will.

  Tall Thomas was exhausted, having spent the whole of the previous night sleeping upright in an olive field with one eye open for any sign of the elusive underwear thief. He decided to tackle Moronic Mitsos in the kafenion about the need to continue with the washing line patrol duty rota. The elusive thief turned strangling attacker appeared to have stopped stealing. No new underwear had been reported missing and none of the patrolling villagers had spotted anything even slightly suspicious.

  Bald Yannis was the first to second Tall Thomas’s motion the washing line patrol rota should be abandoned as a waste of time. Moronic Mitsos was not convinced; pointing out the thief may only have stopped stealing as he was aware the washing lines were being watched so scrupulously.

  “My wife is ‘appy her knickers are no longer under attack,” the moron declared, while conceding “it possible the thief is bored of bras and knickers, an’ is stealing somethin’ else.”

  The Pappas, who was trying his best to inveigle his way back into the good graces of the villagers, piped up with one of his newly cribbed Biblical quotes, saying “A thief might not get caught by the law, but God knows.”

  Slick Socrates fired a filthy look in the direction of the Pappas, muttering to himself about God knowing all about blackmailing malakas. He would love to expose the Pappas as a scheming blackmailer but had promised Stavroula not to gossip about her newly discovered paternity. The villagers decided to keep up the washing line patrol for one more week and then hold a vote on its future.

  “I ‘ave a new woman interested in your online advertisement, very attractive,” Bald Yannis told Moronic Mitsos, showing him a glossy photograph of the current Miss World.

  “’Ang on I knows her,” mail order Masha butted in, as she religiously watched all the televised beauty pageants for inspiration “why Miss World want to meet this moron?”

  Bald Yannis was annoyed mail order Masha, who was not in on the dating scam, was about to potentially put a spoke in his fake scam fun. Thinking quickly Bald Yannis told Moronic Mitsos “most likely some woman use the photo of the real Miss World to make yous like ‘er. She probably ‘ideously ugly and use fake photo, best you not bother reply to ‘er letter.”

  As he spoke he felt the piercing glare of mail order Masha who was looking at him with deep suspicion. She thought Bald Yannis was shifty and up to no good, fleetingly wondering if it was possible Bald Yannis was the elusive underwear thief.

  Before mail order Masha had time to think further on the matter she spotted her new step-daughter Stavroula making her way along the harbour. Desperate to avoid the threatened cookery lesson on ‘ten things to do with an aubergine’ she fled at great speed, wobbling precariously on her stiletto heels.

  “Was that the mail order hussy?” Stavroula questioned the village men outside the kafenion, to which they all denied ever seeing her that morning.

  Chapter 99

  Toothless Tasos and Thea Enjoy a Day Out

  Toothless Tasos was taken aback with shock when Thea, his goddess with the now feet of clay, boldly suggested they go out together for the afternoon. Thea told him she thought it would be most pleasant if they drove down the coast to the village of Gavros on his ancient motorcycle and side-car, and take a walk by the sea. Toothless Tasos had never in his life been invited out by a woman. He worried if this made Thea too forward and pushy, but hastily cast his negative thoughts aside at the prospect of spending more time in her company.

  Thea was emboldened by her desperate need to catch herself a fourth husband. Having carefully weighed up all the potential suitors the village offered, she came to the pitiful conclusion Toothless Tasos was the best of a bad bunch.

  Gorgeous Yiorgos appeared to have lost interest in her and was taking far too much interest in the Pappas’ wife Petula, in Thea’s personal opinion. Thea had even dressed up in her finest clothes from the home shopping channel and sprayed herself with too much perfume, ma
king up an excuse to go in the hardware shop to see how the land lay there.

  Bald Yannis looked too ridiculous for words in his terrible toupee, yet he had the nerve to snub her, taking no interest in her whatsoever beyond his pathetic attempts to sell her a ghastly cheap looking plastic shower curtain emblazoned with lobsters he tried to pretend was patriotic. Thea was happy to put a line through the name of Bald Yannis as a prospective suitor, realising these were desperate times indeed that she had even briefly considered him.

  Tall Thomas appeared completely indifferent to Thea’s many charms and Slick Socrates had already been ensnared by Stavroula. Pancratius the village policeman was too sickly for her taste and Vangelis the chemist was far too free with his gossip about the villagers’ various ailments, a trait she found off-putting as she wasn’t a gossip. That left Toothless Tasos as the man she had set her sights on, but she found it hard going contending with his painful shyness.

  Toothless Tasos found it impossible to put into words his adoration and devotion to Thea, leaving her oblivious to his true feelings for her. She suggested an afternoon out together in the hope it would make him realise she was an attractive woman worthy of an honourable marriage proposal. He had proved himself to be a considerate confidant over the home shopping compulsion that resulted in her hoarding, but he’d failed to grasp just how pressing her monetary worries and debts were.

  Toothless Tasos was rather annoyed when, upon their arrival in Gavros, Thea suggested they go into a taverna for ouzo and meze. He had not envisaged spending any money as he thought her idea of a walk would be free. Thea seemed far too much of a spendthrift and was now making free with his money it seemed. Thea made a mental note that he ordered the cheapest meze on the menu for them to share, but reflected he was such an old miser he must have plenty of money saved up in the bank. Thea poured Toothless Tasos plenty of ouzo before boldly broaching the subject on her mind.