Nana by Mark Towse

Author:Mark Towse [Towse, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: D&T Publishing
Published: 2021-03-26T07:00:00+00:00

“Go on, boy,” Judith prompts in her husky voice. “I’ll get you another cider!”

The night seems dreamlike, like one of those out-of-body experiences he’s read about. There’s another flutter in his stomach, and he’s not sure if it’s the cider or a physical reaction to the bizarre events taking place in this alien world of fart gas and bad breath.

Gas mask man is staring directly at him, and it’s not helping. The room suddenly feels so big.

“One quick one,” Judith says. “For me.”

To rapturous applause, he takes the first step away from the relative comfort of the chair and begins making his way towards the stage. He does his best to avoid the knobbly fingers reaching out towards him, quickly shuffling down the centre of the room. Leaping on stage, he takes position behind the microphone, unbuttoning his shirt and staring towards the floor at the circle of white that surrounds him. A wolf whistle emerges from the back of the room, and he knows even without looking that it’s Edith. He slips his arm underneath his pit and slowly brings his elbow up. With blood pounding in his ears, he looks towards the hungry crowd and holds his position. Counting down from three, he finally snaps his arm down to produce the perfect raspberry that fills the entire room with desired grossness.

Silence.

Suddenly, the crowd goes nuts—a tidal wave of ear-splitting applause rushing from the back of the room to the front, and Olly can’t stop the big cheesy smile from breaking across his face. He performs his masterpiece again, and it sends the crowd even crazier. And Again. Again. They all start copying, unbuttoning shirts and blouses and creating their own little symphony of farts. The entire room is at it, in stitches, egging each other on and slapping each other’s backs with congratulatory praise. Olly feels magnificent, like a conductor leading his band through the world championships.

He senses more eyes on him, and he snaps his head to the left to see his nana looking at him from the door at the far end of the corridor. She closes it abruptly.

There are more acts, ranging from strange to strangely terrifying. Highlights being Joan’s animal impressions, Cora’s sword swallowing, and Jimmy’s boomerang foot—so named because arthritis has moulded it over time to look like it was coming back in on itself.

“Okay, we only have two more acts left, my good friends. Please welcome the one and only—Clementine.”

To thunderous clapping, the white-haired lady limps to the stage and is given a helping hand by Rodney as he pulls her over the step. “Clementine will be doing a little number you will all recognise, called “We’ll Meet Again.” Let’s hear it once more for our very own diva.”

Applause dwindles as the music begins, and Olly watches the white-haired lady with interest as she begins her short gingerly walk to the stage. As she makes it to the spotlight, though, she starts to ooze confidence, grabbing the microphone and carefully stepping over the lead to get into position.

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