Celebrity Hell House by Millard Adam

Author:Millard, Adam
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crowded Quarantine Publications
Published: 2015-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

14

Peter handed Lorna a cup filled with lukewarm tea and they headed into the sitting room for a night of inane conversation and, when that failed, awkward silences. Peter wasn’t great with women, for they were complex creatures. The majority of the protagonists in his books were male, though he wasn’t sexist, not at all. He just didn’t know enough about women to feel comfortable writing one as a main character.

He had never been married or engaged. The closest he’d ever come to a meaningful relationship was with Dotty Dixon, the barmaid down at The Sheep’s Quim, and even that had petered out after three or four dates thanks to Dotty’s insistence that Dickens’ A Christmas Carol was based on a true story. How could you maintain a courtship with a woman who claimed that the ghost of Christmas past was an actual person? Quick answer, you couldn’t, and so Peter had done what any noble man would have done in his place; he moved house, changed his phone, and picked another local pub in which to drown his sorrows.

“Thanks for staying up with me,” Lorna said, easing herself back into an armchair that was older than all of the housemates combined. “I…well, I just think this whole thing has overwhelmed me. Silly, really, isn’t it?”

“It’s not silly at all,” Peter lied, for it seemed the right thing to do under the circumstances. “We’ve all had a long day. I’m just glad we got through it without Dawn’s weird dress slipping down around her cankles.”

Lorna sniggered. “Yeah, what’s that all about? Is that one of her own designs? Fashion’s really gone down the shitter, hasn’t it?”

Peter sipped anxiously at his tea. It was weaker than puppy piss, and he slowly dribbled it back into the cup and placed it at the foot of his chair. “I think Dawn’s at that age where she just doesn’t give a shit, you know?” he said. “Once you hit ninety, it’s perfectly acceptable to shit in the cheese aisle of the supermarket, because no one’s going to shout at you for doing it. In fact, they’re going to mop that turd up and give you your taxi fare home, because you’re old.”

“I’ve never thought of it like that before,” Lorna said, spitting her own tea back from whence it came. “I thought she was doing it for shock value. Maybe get the viewers’ attention early on, so that by the time the first eviction rolls around, everyone’ll be like, ‘No, we can’t vote Dawn out! She’s off her tits, and therefore entertaining’. I’ve seen enough of these programmes to know that the eccentric ones always makes the semis at least.”

“You’re pretty eccentric yourself,” Peter said, glancing around the room, hoping to discover a decanter of brandy, or anything to get the taste of that god-awful tea out of his mouth.

“How so?” Lorna said, though she was smiling and not in the least bit offended.

“Well, you’re terrified of midgets and rats,” Peter said. “Plus you’re an ex-professional swimmer, and I’ve seen those caps you people wear.

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