I should have realized

I should have realized when the potential purchaser of my motorcycle seemed totally unaware of, and completely disinterested in, what type it was when I brought it over for him to view.

I should have realized when he invited me inside his secluded trailer home, situated at the end of a dirt track on the top of an isolated Texas hillside, and said “We can talk about your bike later John”.

I should have realized when I entered the trailer and saw the disconcerting array of gay porn magazines scattered artfully around the living area.

I should have realized when he told me he was a freelance dog’s hairdresser and that it wasn’t actually him that wanted to buy the motorbike but his friend Larry, who’d be coming by shortly. Very very shortly. In fact “…any time now”.

I certainly should have realized when he asked how long I’d been traveling in the US and “Do you ever get really lonely?”.

I should have realized when he said “I hope my magazines didn’t offend you?” And I replied “No, I’ve an open mind,  but you should see what we have on Page 3 of some of our newspapers in the UK if you want to see offensive stuff” and he didn’t laugh.

I only actually realized when he locked the trailer door, removed the key, put it in a drawer, and locked the drawer with another key, which he put in his jean’s pocket, and smiled. What was really disturbing was, it wasn’t a real smile.

“Why have you locked the door?” I asked

“Stay for a while” he said, “I’ll open it when Larry gets here.”

“Where I come from when people want your company they don’t lock you in” I informed him cheerily.

He smiled that same smile again. A not-humorous smile, which rather unnervingly was directed in the general area of my crotch.

He moved towards a table and I backed off, but he stopped and lifted one of his magazines, which was open at a double-page spread with an image which was reminiscent of a serious accident in a sausage packing factory, and revealed ‘a device’ which had been concealed underneath. I say ‘a device’ because it had a cable with a plug on the end. It was familiar, in a Delia Smith sort of way, a thought I tried to dispel from my mind because I guessed we were not about to commence a cookery lesson. He plugged it in. It buzzed in a demented fashion and he pointed it towards me, it still looked uncannily like a kitchen implement of some sort.

“Touch the end of it” he suggested.

A pink latexy sort of cup thing was facing me jiggling like crazy and, like a recently used food mixer that had been involved in cake icing or choux buns, it had some rather shiny white stains on the inside of it.

You know that moment when something you thought was something else becomes something else again? This was one of those moments. The jiggling thing suddenly became something that was highly unlikely to be found in Delia Smith’s kitchen drawer, I imagine. I backed off even further, and said “Put that away!”

“Come on” he implored “this could be fun.” But he had a face on him that had anything bit fun written all over it.

“I don’t know what your game is but I’m not up for it so you’d better open the door and let me out” and he just ‘smiled’ again. “Look I’m going to count to ten and you’re going to open the door……..One….two….three…”  but by ten he’d simply turned his ‘device’ onto setting number 2 which was obviously considerably more powerful than the previous setting as his hand was now vibrating rather alarmingly.

It’s funny the thoughts that go through your mind when you’re stressed, but as someone with long experience in the building trade, and with an apparent short-circuit between my mouth and brain at that particular moment, I informed him “You’d best watch out pal that’ll give you vibration white finger and could interfere with your hairdressing career!”  It was humour wasted. To someone without building trades knowledge ‘vibration white finger’ probably had some other connotations, but the words were no sooner out of my mouth than I realized this was only encouraging him.

I tried another tack. “Ok open the effing door or I’ll beat seven shades of crap out of you, I mean it”. His eyes lit up, and that smile returned, still aimed far lower than my eyes than was comfortable. I groaned inwardly, a bit of rough trade was perhaps one of his preferences. Hmm. Forget that idea then. But I was mindful that ‘Larry’ might still come by, soon, and although I could probably cope with getting out past one of them, two was going to up the stakes significantly despite my reasonably good self-defence capabilities. This could become less of a joke and far more serious at any moment. Time to try a different approach……….

I looked around, “Nice trailer you have here, bit tatty outside but man you’ve got some nice things in here, fixed it up really pretty too……” and this time he really smiled. A warm proud gee-thanks sort of smile that lit his whole face up, teeth gleaming, and his eyes sparkling and crucially directed way higher than my crotch. He positively beamed.

“So how about I pick up that expensive-looking coffee table pull the legs off it and put the remains of it through that effing window, then follow it with that vase through that other window, and your pretty little ornament things over there that look like they’ll shatter if I whack them with the table leg how about I give that a go too……or maybe with this broom…..” and I reached across and picked up the well-used cleaning implement that was standing in the kitchen area behind me, adding: “Forecast is rain for this afternoon, you’ll have some mess in here if you’ve got no windows eh. Let’s start over here….”  

“No No NO!” he gasped “Please no! Don’t break anything, please, it’s really valuable!”

“Open the door then mate. I’m only counting to 5 this time….One…..two…” He fumbled for key one……“three”……. He fumbled for key two……“four”...click…“f..” “GO! Out Now!”    So I did, handing him the broom as I stepped out into the welcoming warmth and sunshine.

“Mind and give me a call once you’ve talked with Larry if you still want the bike” I said.

 “Just f*ck off will you” he answered.

So I did.

But I felt really bad. Because I’d lied. There was no rain in the forecast for that afternoon.