CuiousPages - fiction and nonfiction
CuriousPages - fiction and nonfiction
Each weekday morning, Samuel Pam walked to Notting Hill Gate underground station, rode the tube to Westminster then walked a further twelve minutes to his office. He avoided people in public, so when he stepped onto the train and noticed an empty end-seat, he sat there. These were favourable because only one person could sit beside you, reducing the possibility of conversation.
A man in his twenties took the seat beside Samuel, who gave him the once-over and decided he seemed harmless enough. The train pulled away and Samuel took out his paperback. The standing-room was taken and he was aware of bodies in front of him swaying like the walls of a human maze which confined him, unable to escape until the walls themselves disembarked. The man beside him leant closer and whispered:
“Do you satisfy your girlfriend in bed?”
Samuel watched his book and turned to the next page.
The man whispered, “Leave the small size behind. No girl likes a small…”
Samuel looked along the carriage in the opposite direction, and through the maze he saw the mad Spanish-looking woman making her way towards him.
The man beside him whispered: “Bring her to new heights of ecstasy with just one more inch.”
The maze swayed before him and Samuel felt as though immobilized in a nightmare.
The Spanish-looking woman had pursued him since he left his flat that morning. He was late and was about to leave but felt hungry. He placed two slices of bread in his toaster and as he pushed down the “start” lever, his doorbell sounded. He rushed to the door and saw a courier standing there who said, “I have a large package for you,” raising his eyebrows on the word “large”.
Samuel looked down at the package and told him, “It doesn’t look all that large to me.”
The man handed him a form and Samuel was about to sign it when he noticed the declaration he was signing: “Yes, I want to say goodbye to my locker-room embarrassment.” He looked up at the man who turned over the package and pointed to the wording on the reverse:
This patented work-out for your “best friend” will put inches where it really matters.
The courier said, “Just sign here,” and pushed Samuel’s hand down onto the form.
Samuel resisted, shouting, “There’s nothing wrong with my… ‘best friend’!” but the man held his hand and tried moving it over the form. Samuel broke free, pulled his front door shut and pushed past the man on his way into the street. He carried his hunger and irritation to the end of the street and as he turned the corner, he noticed the Spanish-looking woman rushing after him. She lived somewhere nearby and always seemed to be pestering people in the street. She shouted to him, “You plunge it in and leave in a hurry.”
Over the past year, this little oversight of Sally’s resulted in an unpleasant situation in the goldfish bowl. In the beginning, Bruce taunted Sheila about his name—Bruce finding it immensely funny that Sheila had such a sissy, girlie name. And Bruce went on taunting Sheila for several months, until even Bruce eventually became tired of the joke. But to Sheila, Bruce’s “bit of fun” just seemed like wanton mockery. And right to this day, Sheila never forgot about it. But since (from Bruce’s point of view) it was all merely a bit of fun, Bruce could never understand Sheila’s reaction. Bruce (as far as he could see) had never done anything to hurt Sheila, so it always seemed that Sheila was behaving in a “moody” or “argumentative” way merely for the sake of it.
In this way, over the past year (as a result of Sally’s “help’) the relationship between the two fish became somewhat strained.
Bruce Softly was leisurely circling the goldfish bowl and then came to rest beside Sheila Softly.
Sheila said, almost spitting the words out, “There you are, Bruce!”
Bruce said, cautiously, “Yes... here I am, Sheila—”
“Well, where’ve you been?”
Bruce tried to glance casually out of the bowl while saying, “Oh, just swimming round the bowl, Sheila, just—”
“You didn’t tell me, Bruce; I might have wanted to come.”
Bruce sighed, “You can always come next time, Sheila.”
“But that’s not the point—you know I like to swim round the bowl.”
Bruce snapped, “You’re pathetic!”
“You’re pathetic—you should have told me.”
“I’ll tell you next time, alright—!”
“Are you shouting at me, Bruce?”
“No!”
“Yes you are.”
“I’m not!”
“You are!”
“I’m not! I’m not! Okay—?”
Sheila looked away and said nothing.
Bruce shouted, “Alright if I breathe, is it—?”
Sheila said nothing.
Bruce snapped, “Right! I’m going for a swim round the bowl—you coming?”
Sheila continued peering silently out of the bowl.
Bruce said, “Right... I’m going then—”
Silence.
“Don’t say I didn’t—”
Sheila shouted, “Just go!”
“Right—” Bruce turned, glanced back at Sheila, looked away, glanced back at him again, then angrily swam off.
Sheila sighed, glanced up at Bruce, then looked away and sighed again. Bruce swam by above him, angrily glancing down at him. Sheila continued looking away and merely sighed yet again—but this time even more deeply.

Nonfiction

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The book provides students or practitioners with an indispensible guide to properly understanding the Chinese medicine of the Nei Jing. And it also enables Chinese medicine to be explained to patients using terms they can understand. Read more>> 

The Trouble with Conversation

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A fascinating read for anyone who’s interested in everyday communication and the related relationship problems. Read more>> 

Traditional Chinese Medicine

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Nonfiction. My notes on the writing of fiction, on Chinese Medicine phenomena, on travel, people, dreams, and other topics. Read more>> 

 

 

 

Traditional Chinese Medicine

Traditional Chinese Medicine
Nonfiction. Articles and Essays on various aspects of Traditional Chinese Medicine, mainly focusing on acupuncture. Read more>> 

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An account of... well, sawing up my sofa. Features a series of step by step photos on how to saw up your sofa. Read more>>