by pumpernickle » Tue Mar 07, 2006 7:29 pm
Sorry Michael, image crisis time! I can imagine you being kidnapped at dawn by a bearded man in an apron, wearing nothing underneath but a G-string and a pair of football gloves to stave off the cold.
You try make a hasty escape from the pick-up, but you are taken down by a tranquiliser dart. The last thing you hear before consciousness slips away is the low hum of a manical laugh and the sound of your wrists being strapped with plastic police quick-cuffs.
You awaken in a dark, musty cavern, where you find yourself ignominiously bleeding from various orophases. Your new name is Susan. And you are welcomed to Lipopetri in the traditional style.
As you mop away the tears promulgated by your recent cherry taking frenzy, the bearded men haul your sorry husk off to the town square.
Suddenly the world seems upside down, or is it because you are upside down, being hauled up high upon the Keo billboard by the post office, naked, a pair of white baps from the local Zorbas wrapped considerately around your family jewels.
The final words you hear come as a heart rendering shock.
"Dinner time Fido!"
Barking eminates from all directions. The village 'skiloses' have been let loose and are tearing their way towards your direction. Little fluffy random shapes bobbing and weaving into view as the wind sends you east to west. The crowd eating Souvla and dancing to local folk music as the fun begins.
The darkness. A few moments elapse, and you are awake again, this time your head pounding. have you slipped into the afterlife? Is the heinous humiliation over? Can you now sleep soundly with your heroes, Grivas, Zeus, and Kojak?
Alas, no. During your feast, you fell into shock and fainted. Minutes into the mutt feeding, a small Subaru, green, rusty, leopard skin upholstery, screeched into the town square as if Bat man was at the wheel.
Except it aint bat man. It's Robin. Or should I be more precise. It's Lysi, come to the rescue. (He called you on the mobile. It rang to answer....he knew something horrific must be happening...you always answer for Lysi)
He scatters what appears to be a selection of beer nuts and toe clippings around the rocky foliage of the slaughter scene...the crows scatters.
Mary Magdeleine has arrived, and he's pissed.
Your rope is cut by Lysi's special Swiss Army knife (bought from Tony's gift shop in Dhekalia, 2 for 1, free bag of Cheetos thrown in) and he drags your lifeless frame into the back of his ageing motor. The fan belt and the inconsistent growl of the engine means trouble....Lysi has forgotten to top up the oil...again.
He knows he needs a good headstart in order to drive at enough speed to clear the angry baying mob up ahead (30km per hour) so he squeezes his hair with both hands, wringing enough folical grease to last the beleaguered 1 litre lump till suppe time.
The car emerges from the dark soul of Liopetri, animals, savages and police officers leaping after it, like zombies in one of those spoof movies.
The sun sets, and it's another day in the unstoppable, exciting, non stop life of Cyprus' very own batman and robin.
I give you....Mike and Lysi.
Round of applause for our favourite cyprus forum bigots in disguise.
