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

by Katerina Nikolas

  Chapter 117

  Is Not What Yous Think

  Quentin and Deirdre paid Adonis the mechanics car repair bill with barely a murmur. They were pleased to once again have access to their own wheels and drove straight to the neighbouring village of Rapanaki to take yet another look at their new falling down old ruined house. It was pleasant to view the property without Adonis in tow and without Achilles the borrowed builder making endlessly bizarre renovation suggestions.

  “I think we will be very happy here Did-Rees,” Quentin said “it is so peaceful and the views are gorgeous.”

  Their peace was instantly shattered by the arrival of Fotini and Nitsa who had scrambled over the garden wall and were busy gesticulating towards Quentin’s car and pointing to the road. “I think they want us to drive them somewhere,” Quentin said, observing the old Mercedes taxi was not in its usual parking place.

  “Astakos, Astakos,” the two old ladies demanded in unison, vigorously shaking their heads to indicate Quentin’s guess they wanted a ride was quite correct. Before he had time to object the two old ladies had climbed into the car and showed no sign of budging.

  “I suppose we’d better take them or we’ll get no peace,” Deirdre said, whispering to Quentin he should definitely hold them hostage in the car until they coughed up some cab fare.

  Quentin dropped the two old dears off next to the old Mercedes taxi parked on the side of the harbour, and then whisked Deirdre off to lunch. Toothless Tasos had recommended a cheap taverna in the village of Marouli which had an excellent reputation for serving the very freshest lettuce.

  The American pair was surprised to see mail order Masha, tarted up to the nines, already seated in the taverna, dining on lettuce and keftedes with the smitten young hospital doctor. “Is not what yous think,” mail order Masha told them blushing bright red “the doctor just giving me ride to hospital to see Vasilis.”

  Quentin considered it was an out of the way detour to drive via Marouli to get to the hospital as it was in completely the opposite direction. Telling himself he shouldn’t jump to conclusions he imagined the doctor may have been called out on an emergency en route and then Masha may have been almost fainting from hunger and needed lunch urgently. Even to his own mind his excuses for Masha sounded lame and when Deirdre piped up “it looks like Masha found someone nearer her own age,” Quentin had to agree.

  Their food had just arrived and was closely followed by Gorgeous Yiorgos accompanied by Petula. “Is not what yous think,” Gorgeous Yiorgos quickly explained “we is out on a driving lesson and Petula was suddenly overcome with the hungers.”

  Deirdre was happy to see Petula’s bruises had started to fade and thought she and Gorgeous Yiorgos made a lovely couple, with Petula doing far better with the fisherman than with the odious Pappas with his obtrusively straying foot.

  Each couple tried their best to ignore the presence of the others, with two of the couples hoping the other two pairs were not inclined to gossip. The tranquil peace of the taverna was shattered by the sudden noisy arrival of the old Mercedes taxi.

  Fotini and Nitsa cared not a whit for discretion. As they sat down Fotini loudly announced “so this is where womens goes when don’t want peoples seeing them out with men not their ‘usbands. Nitsa, this is goodly place for yous to come with Bald Yannis.”

  “Is not what yous think,” said mail order Masha, the smitten young doctor, Gorgeous Yiorgos and Petula in perfect unison. As the two old crones started to cackle manically the taverna suddenly emptied, leaving Quentin and Deirdre alone with their new neighbours.

  Chapter 118

  Shop Wars Brewing

  “I tell yous selling these ‘ere shower curtains will antagonise Bald Yannis,” Tassia said to Fat Christos, unpacking a box full of lobster adorned shower curtains which she thought he had agreed not to order.

  “Is ‘ealthy competition,” Fat Christos asserted “and these very popular items as patriotic with many ‘undreds of uses.”

  “I’m not sure it is worth starting shop war with Bald Yannis over this, he’s a vindictive man,” Tassia mused.

  “I think new darling goat makes ‘im changed man,” Fat Christos opined, “he asked me to order ‘im some nice goat clothes for it, but they not easy to find. Only nut jobs dress their goats up in clothes like foreign dogs.”

  “I knits something for ‘is darling pet goat,” Mrs Kolokotronis piped up “it will be another string in my knitted goods line.”

  Fat Christos was delighted to see his mother putting so much effort into her business idea of a knitted clothes line. The more time she spent turning into a knitting mogul the less time she would have to create havoc with the liquidiser he considered.

  “Tell Bald Yannis to get over ‘ere with ‘is goat so I can measure it up for a nice knitted coat,” Mrs Kolokotronis instructed Fat Christos, who dutifully jogged over to the hardware shop to relay her message.

  Bald Yannis was sat at his hardware shop counter writing an itemized list of all the damage Fotini and Nitsa had caused during their drunken lock-in, as he intended to send a hefty bill to Prosperous Pedros. His bald scalp had suffered an allergic reaction to the turpentine used to remove the superglue and now featured lurid green patches on either side of his ear-to-ear transplanted strip of weed-like wiry hair.

  He had discovered his credit card had been removed from the prised open cash register and at first presumed the old ladies had stolen it, until he found it wedged between the pages of one of his underwear catalogues.

  A very disturbing telephone conversation with his bank manager ensued as he insisted he was the victim of fraud and had not placed a large order for bloomers, bras and pop socks. The bank manager was not inclined to believe him and Bald Yannis got stroppy, shouting “I is bald man with no man boobs to put in bras and I not wears bloomers. Cancels order for underwear and give money back.”

  The bank manager flatly refused to credit a refund and abruptly hung up on Bald Yannis after telling he was offended by his inappropriate language.

  Bald Yannis considered it quite ridiculous the amount of his money the two old ladies had spent on underwear when they could have had their pick from the local washing lines. He was still fuming when Fat Christos arrived and told him “I think Fotini is the elusive underwear thief as she is obsessed with bloomers, she use my credit card to order two dozen pairs. Bank manager refuse refund as he thinking I is wearing the women’s knickers.”

  Fat Christos pondered the idea it was not so absurd to imagine a man who was demanding pretty clothes for his goat would also be inclined to wear women’s underwear. However he had to dismiss the idea when he remembered it was Fotini who had actually made free with the credit card and ordered the underwear.

  The two men returned to the new supermarket with Agapimeni the goat in tow. As Mrs Kolokotronis took the goat’s vital statistics with her tape measure Bald Yannis noticed the newly unpacked pile of patriotic shower curtains, priced at one Euro per curtain less than his own, and hit the roof.

  “You goes too far Fat Christo, this loutish not gentlemanly behaviour of yous will start the shops wars. Yous think yous rivals me but yous nothing but fisherman upstart playing at keeping shop. Yous sells those patriotic shower curtains an’ I starts selling goat postcards and glow in dark plastic Parthenons.”

  With that Bald Yannis flounced out, only to return shame faced as he had forgotten his darling goat. “This war,” he screamed at Fat Christos, while pulling Mrs Kolokotronis outside to ask if she could use just the right shade of pink wool for Agapemini’s new coat.

  Chapter 119

  Vasilis has a Rival

  That old fool Vasilis was waiting for the smitten young doctor to discharge him from his hospital bed. He had expected him hours ago and was very disgruntled at the inordinately long wait. Mail order Masha was late too he fumed; she was supposed to be here at his bedside ready to take him home.

  Mail order Masha breezed into the hospital with suspicious bits of olive t
wigs sticking out of her hair extensions, and the smitten young doctor following fast on her heels. “About time,” Vasilis complained. “I want to get ‘ome as I’m missing the donkey.”

  The smitten young doctor barely glanced at Vasilis’ plaster encased arm as he attempted to sign the discharge papers with an olive twig stuck in his top pocket. He was gazing with besotted eyes at mail order Masha as he offered to stop by the house that evening to check up on the patient.

  “You does ‘ouse calls on all your patients or just ones with stunning young wives?” Vasilis questioned, to which the doctor blushed and blustered he would just happen to be passing that evening.

  “Don’t bother,” Vasilis snapped at the doctor, “if I needs medical attention I goes to Vangelis the chemist. Now ‘ows we getting ‘ome Masha, who did you get ride ‘ere from?”

  Mail order Masha looked totally indifferent when she explained the smitten young doctor had driven her to the hospital and she hadn’t considered how they would get home. “I’m on duty now,” the doctor said “but I spotted a taxi waiting outside.”

  Mail order Masha threatened to leave her husband behind at the hospital when he refused to get into the old Mercedes taxi, driven by Nitsa, with her. “There no bus for hours and no other taxi,” Masha rationalised as Vasilis procrastinated, still holding Nitsa responsible for knocking him off the donkey and breaking his arm. With no other transport option available Vasilis finally joined Masha in the taxi.

  “Was accident yous knows, I is old woman and my feet not reach pedals,” Nitsa cackled, reversing into a stretcher and knocking the bandaged patient onto the floor of the hospital car park. “And don’t yous goes tattling to police as it yous who is breaking the restraining order by getting into my taxi. I know you ‘ave yous eye on me an’ should be ashamed of yourself.”

  Nitsa spent the rest of the drive back to Astakos confiding in mail order Masha what a terrible time she had of it as so many men had their eye on her. “I ‘ave always been magnet for men who think me sexy,” the deluded old crone rambled. “Even at age of eighty-two I ‘ave to fight off that young Yannis at hardware shop.”

  “Po po, that’s nasty,” mail order Masha sympathised, thinking Bald Yannis must have terrible taste in women and wondering how she could sneak away later for her rendezvous with the smitten young doctor.

  “Watch out,” Vasilis screamed at Nitsa as she deliberately swerved to hit an innocently passing goat.

  “Is okay I got it,” Nitsa cackled in delight, jumping down from her pile of magazines and tossing the ‘road-kill’ goat into the back seat on top of her passengers.

  “I been looking for a goat to road-kill because them gormless American neighbours fancy one for their leaving party. I drive it to Yiota for scrubbing. Good job Fotini is at ‘ome as she ‘as a dreadful fear of goats.”

  “Yous is mad,” Vasilis exclaimed, staring down in horror as the goat’s blood seeped into his plaster cast, turning it bright red.

  Mail order Masha had been so intent on gazing at her fake nail extensions she hadn’t even noticed the bump. Turning to Vasilis she caught sight of his plaster cast and cheered up, commenting “oh look ‘usband, yous cast fashionably matches my ‘air extensions.”

  Chapter 120

  Invitations

  Toothless Tasos headed his fishing boat back to shore, pleased with the morning’s catch. He was eager to sell his fish on to Tall Thomas so he could rush home to his beloved. It was nice to have someone waiting for him at home he reflected. Thea had brought with her one of those new-fangled electric kettles and prepared him fresh coffee in one of those foreign cafetieres, rather than brewing up Greek coffee in a brik on top of the camping gas stove. He liked having someone to fuss over him and make his coffee.

  When he arrived home he noticed Thea had been adding some of her womanly decorative touches to his living room. His newly acquired nailed up shower curtain had been pulled down from the window and replaced with a posh velvet curtain. Thea denounced the shower curtain as “‘ideous nasty thing.” The strategically placed pot used to catch drips had been polished up and put on the stove where it was being used to boil up some horta, and Achilles the borrowed builder was up a ladder patching up the leaking roof.

  “Po po, he make so much dust,” Thea complained “we goes to Stavroulas for our morning coffee.”

  Toothless Tasos acquiesced, calculating his excellent catch would well cover the extravagant cost of two taverna bought coffees, while reminding Thea thriftiness is a virtue.

  Stavroula was busy nagging Slick Socrates about the necessity of him putting in more lawyerly hours at his practice. She rather fancied opening a tourist tat shop in competition with Fat Christos’ burgeoning new supermarket empire and this aspirational new venture would require a lot of his money. “Maybe new father like to contribute too,” she voiced, deciding she would seek out the company of that old fool Vasilis.

  Stavroula’s nagging transported Toothless Tasos back to the days of their marriage when she had constantly chivvied him to bring home more money. He had hated her endless demands to improve their lot, yet conceded Stavroula had invested his and the missing Kostas’ money wisely by building a modern new house and a taverna. He considered perhaps he and Thea should come up with some business venture. If Thea had something meaningful to occupy her time it may stop her from being such a wasteful spendthrift. He decided it was something to definitely sleep on.

  Adonis stopped by to persuade Stavroula to cater the traditional meze of small delicious Greek dishes for the leaving party he was organising in the garden of the ‘Lemoni Spiti’ for Quentin and Deirdre. “Yous know no one makes meze as goodly as yous,” he charmed Stavroula “and if you don’t make it there will be nothing to eats but goat and mail order Masha’s infamous disgusting borscht.”

  Spotting that old fool Vasilis making his way into the taverna Stavroula decided to impress him by praising his wife, saying “the borscht very colourful and is now recommended as ‘ealthy eatin’ in ‘ospital.” She hoped to butter the old fool up enough to consider investing in her tourist tat shop. When Adonis pressed her on the subject of the meze she reeled off a list of delicious dishes she would prepare, promising to cook courgette balls, tzatziki dip, and spinach pies at the very least.

  “Why the Pappas taking ‘is goat Nero in supermarket? I ‘ope he not thinking to sell it back to Fat Christos as my cousin Petula loves it,” Adonis asked.

  “I goes find out,” Stavroula volunteered as she loved to be the first one with any gossip to spread.

  “I ‘ear everything now,” she declared on her return “it turns out Tassia is talented with the pen and the Pappas’ goat is posing for its portrait.”

  “The Pappas he addled in ‘ead,” Vasilis declared, sharing a sombre look with his new daughter as they both remembered his blackmailing scam and how he had maliciously kept the truth from them until he could find a way to monetise his secret.

  “At least he not spoil party as no one invite him,” Adonis said, adding “yous all invited,” extending an open invitation.

  The impending party was also the topic of conversation in the hardware shop as Bald Yannis complained to Moronic Mitsos he was so unpopular he hadn’t received an invitation. “Even those strange American tourists ‘ave been invited,” he moaned, only to be told by Moronic Mitsos the party was for them so of course they were going to be in attendance. Moronic Mitsos was not invited either, but he wasn’t bothered as he had much more exciting plans.

  Bald Yannis had read him the latest fake billet-doux which he had penned himself from the middle-aged English woman Shirley Valentine. He wrote she was planning to arrive in Greece and would definitely like to meet him. “You’d best get you yacht ready to impress her,” Bald Yannis advised in amusement, watching Moronic Mitsos’ brain working overtime considering how he was going to pass his leaky smelly old rowing boat off as a yacht.

  “I best make appointment at beauty parlour quick,” Moronic Mitsos said, reme
mbering he had described himself as very handsome. He had no idea the imaginary Shirley Valentine planned on standing him up.

  “’Ave you met my darling new pet goat Agapimeni?” Bald Yannis called out from the hardware shop doorway to a passing Quentin and Deirdre. “Come close she not bite, does not yous thinks she is a beauty?”

  “Quite attractive I am sure,” Quentin responded, being completely unable to distinguish one goat from another.

  “She feeling a bit sad today as not invited to party,” Bald Yannis told them, openly fishing for an invitation.

  “Well I’m sure we’d be delighted to have her along if you’d like to bring her,” Quentin offered, receiving a daggers drawn look from Deirdre. “Now darling, it would have been churlish not to invite him, he’s obviously lonely,” Quentin said.

  Chapter 121

  Time to Party

  Deirdre was having a hard time getting the suitcases to close as they were chock to the brim with all the tourist tat she was taking back to Idaho. In addition to buying lots of lobster adorned patriotic shower curtains as special gifts for everyone back home she had to contend with forcing a glow in the dark plastic Parthenon and a life size bust of Aristotle into the bags, not to mention copious jars of home prepared olives the locals had forced on her as they knew how she favoured them.

  “I am so sad to be leaving,” she confided in Quentin. “I feel the people here have welcomed us and made us feel so at home.”

  “I feel the same darling, but it really is quite pressing we rush home. My mother’s romance with this odd sounding fellow she met on the internet does sound rather dodgy and from what I gather she appears to have been wiring him money from her savings account. It is best I am on hand to find out exactly what is going on and make sure she doesn’t give all her savings away to some sort of shady gigolo intent on marrying her for her money,” Quentin said, whilst sitting on the suitcase to assist his wife’s zipping and wearing a traditional Greek fisherman’s hat Deirdre had bought him.