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Rigabold: Drunk talk

It only took a moment for Rigabold the pernicketness to realise that what he was hearing as he stood in front of the statue of Bob The Railway Dog in the town of Peterborough north of Adelaide was the drunken talk of a female earthling. He hadn’t witnessed much drunk talk on his current Earthly jaunt, he’d seen idiots, seen people that talked as much garbage as a drunk would talk but he hadn’t actually experienced the drunkard in their natural habitat.

He knew that drunk talk itself was not to be feared, most drunks barely remembered what they were saying long after it dropped out of their mouths, however the actions of the drunkard could vary greatly and that was something to be weary of.

He turned and looked at the source of the voice. Standing before him was petite woman of about a hundred and sixty centimetres, blonde hair with darker brown streaks through it which hung past her shoulders. She was wearing a black silk blouse, that was tight fitting over her breasts but loose everywhere else, Rigabold assumed that was deliberate. She was also wearing a tight leather skirt in bright red, black fishnet stockings and nothing on her feet, but she was carrying a pair of red stiletto heels in her right hand which Rigabold guess started the night out on her feet. Her face was done up with make up that looked like it had a hard night that probably included close contact with another person and possibly tears. She wasn’t an unattractive person but her make up didn’t do for her what she might have thought it did.

Translating the drunk girl’s question Rigabold knew she was suggesting he was sexy and she wanted to know where he got his cute arse. It was a compliment and an easy question, and the girl seemed fairly harmless so Rigabold decided to be polite.

“Hello drunk girl.” He said not knowing what else to call her. “The sexy arse came with the body. I’m glad you like it.”

“You looks like the coot Hemsworf. You gotta coot arsh and ya body is all kinds of yum yum!”

As a Tumcuddulan Rigabold didn’t blush easy but it was good to know that someone noticed the work the Molecule Mangler had put in to create the body he’d chosen, but of course he could not allow the connection to be made too closely.

“Well this body is all mine, it doesn’t belong to any half baked Aussie actor. But thank you for noticing.”

There was a drunken giggle as the woman before him laughed and swayed gently on her feet. Rigbaold could smell the alcohol on her breathe as she spoke, it was, he assumed the smell of Bourbon, more than likely Jack Daniels.

“Ha Ha Ha, I tolds ya yoo ish coot!”

As the girl before him spoke Rigabold marvelled at how much drunk talk changed around the world. It wasn’t just local dialect and accents, many people with identical accents could have different drunk voices. The girl before him definitely had a unique drunk dialogue, it was kind of a cross between Australian English, Eskimo, or Inuit, European English and a hint of Scotish.

“So wots a hunky cheethcake like yasulf doin here in ma town. You to shexy tobe a local. Are ya talking to Bob?”

“Does Bob talk to you?” Rigabold asked. He wasn’t trying to be a smart arse and out drunk talk a drunk but it was hard to resist having some fun.

“Na, ya doofus. Bob’s a statchue. Statuches don’t talk. You drunker than me?” the girl said as she swayed.

“No sorry I was only kidding with you.”

“Wassya name shexy?” the girl changed topic quickly, whether she realised it or not Rigabold wasn’t sure.

He’d used Rick Flair, a wrestler, he’d used Jake Elwood from the Blues Brothers, both of which he doubted the girl before him would recognise, so instead of using those names again he decided to try something else. He didn’t want something obvious, something she might have seen on the TV everyday and recognise as fake immediately, but something that might tweak a few memory cells then tweak even more of those memory cells as the hang over she would wake up with in the morning faded was definitely something he could get on board with.

“My name is Joseph King.” Rigabold replied wondering if his chosen name was too obvious.

“Josuff?” The girl replied making Rigabold think he’d been caught. “Thas Jeezuz stuff. Are you Jeezuz? Am I seein Jeezuz?” Rigabold breathed a sigh of relief, it wasn’t quite how he pictured things would go but that was okay. “Ami sho drunk Jeezuz came ta take me home? Yay for Jeezuz, take me home big man!”

“Ma’am, I’m not Jesus and I’m sorry but I’m not here to take you home.”

“Aww sheeet.” the girl said extending the vowel of the word shit. “I coulda done wif a nice ride ‘ome and a ride when I got there if ya know wots I mean!”

Rigabold did know what she meant and it was impossible in his human form but it was also something he wasn’t looking for. “Sorry Ma’am, but I’m gay.” Rigbaold said quickly hoping to stop the conversation heading further down the path the drunk girl was taking it.

“Aint that tha fuckin’ ducksh, nutsh!” the girl said. “Shuper hot bod any girl would die for and you wanna play wit’ shumone elses bat and balls!” The girl then laughed a hearty laugh to herself, the laugh seemed to echo in the empty streets but not overly loud. “Oh and shtop callin’ me Ma’am. Thasnot me name, me names Jennifer but you Mr. Shexy gay man can call me Jenny.”

As Jenny spoke the last few words she swayed closer to Rigabold and pointed a finger at his chest, it wasn’t a rude gesture, just her drunken self trying to assert certain words.

“Well good morning Jenny. I’m pleased to meet you. I feel like I’ve known you for ages.” Rigabold said. It wasn’t an attempt to be funny just a reference to how long they’d been chatting before the introductions were made.

“Hows bout if ya dun wanna take me home, we juz do it here!” Jenny said.

Previous Episode here.
First Episode here.

1 Comment

  1. Giggle … : )

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