Chapter 7: What More Can an Old Man Ask For

"Thank you Bob, you are a gentleman. For your effeminate friend's information, I really don't need a brother, and yes it is." Bob, at that very instant, decided another cup of tea was in order though they also shared a drop, a very large drop as it turned out, of that shit brandy Maxi had left after the funeral. They used the usual old Vegemite jars as genuine glasses tend to have a limited life span around the upside domicile, they don't go to the trouble of saving them when a cyclone hits and are probably somewhere near Cairns by the time they come down like shrapnel to earth or embedded into the rock of the mountain.

Teddy made the next pot of tea and Bob admitted he did a far better job of it than he himself does. It took him hours to calm down his shaking after that shock. The upside of it was that Bob had no need to ask for something and Teddy, who liked being called Edward, was always prepared for Bob's often, oddly timed, arrivals. The downside will be significant later. Edward really appreciated that there was no mosquitoes or flies this far away out at sea from 'civilisation'.

Bob had never queried the existence of Helen inside his psyche and he simply accepted the abilities of Edward, though he verbally reminded the elderly gentleman to contact his friends in Rockhampton to relieve their anxieties and to arrange for his wife's funeral; also to make arrangements to see a rheumatologist. Bob will pay, wherever the nearest one was, as there was no point in living in Paradise if your body is perpetually in Hell.

Bob, Helen and Edward became like a long term husband and wife domestic team and Uncle Maxmillian visited regularly like a deadbeat sponging relative with his mute female hanger-on, plus family. They all took turns in cooking, though Edward had to get Bob to tone down his usage of Chillies. He'd recently found a source for some Habanero chillies (Scotch Bonnets, whatever) which are lethal to the majority of human-kind and even Bob considers them a little uncomfortably warm. Teddy laughed at that description as the tears ran, the snot flowed and Bob's ears nigh on rang like church bells, right through the attempted grin on his face.

Edward used a shard off one small bell shaped chilli, once, to give some heat to a meal for Maxmillian, Bob and himself of Coral Trout on a bed of rice, and then he himself only ate the bed of rice embellished with some steamed Italian spinach and a scraping of fresh nutmeg. After washing his hands and scrubbing his nails, he scratched an itch on his forehead, as one does, which left his forehead at that spot burning for hours afterwards and him unwilling to allow his penis to come into contact with his fingers to urinate. Bob laughed, but tended to use surgical gloves from then on when he was preparing them.

They, the three of them, as a team, once made a concoction of boiled down and concentrated habanero chilli with white vinegar as a fixative, created up in the usually empty crater of the mountain, because the resulting gas expelled became instantly toxic. They created a liquid chemical self-defence weapon, of which Bob actually did supply a batch to Tilly early in her Uni career. Why? Why not, she was his defenceless little girl and away from home in a big, bad world, peopled with beings such as he, but without his self-control. Bob used it once as a salad dressing, just because he was curious and because he was a glutton for punishment. It was a oncer unless it was blended with extra virgin olive oil proportioned at about 1:500 plus.

Tilly later admitted that she did have to use the spray, just once, but that once was more than enough. Her report was: she would rather use diluted hydrochloric acid, as it would cause less damage, though at least it is bio-degradable and that it did lose its potency after a year or two. After two years, Bob discovered it only had to be diluted 1:200 as a salad dressing, with a touch of raw garlic, and a squeeze of lime juice for the piquancy and a smattering of salt into a blended emulsion.

One lunchtime at her Uni, Tilly attended a lesbian influenced, anti-male meeting, being curious why some women would be against such useful tools. Not thinking that junior would be there, Junior is always there, and the thirty odd little ugly people in the auditorium attacked, en masse, and being overwhelmed, with both of their self-defence training or not, Tilly pulled out the spray bottle her Uncle Bob had given her as capsicum spray, only weeks before. The main City hospital was overwhelmed with odd looking female types who for once were not interested if it was a male or female who treated them, and some of them had eyesight damage for months, not talking about pustule encrusted, red and enflamed painful skin lesions and rashes caused by the fluid soaking right through clothing.

To Junior's mind, he was unsure if the effect was an improvement on their normal look, or not, which was basically designed to be unattractive to males and in reality was unattractive to even each other. He did not keep it a secret from his ward that he was scared shitless, when that large mob of inhuman animals in female guise attacked them with such hatred on their faces. Tilly sat beside him with her face turned away and said in a very small voice, "I wet myself." He put his arm around her and gave her what comfort he could.

The third year the company was operating, the pending patents began to be approved and royalty payments began arriving in a steady trickle, often updates on the first basic gizmos he had applied for and had received patents for, over ten years before.

Bob first got Edward into his GP down in Rocky for a referral and discovered there were plenty of rheumatologists. One in Townsville, with a six year waiting list, one in Rockhampton, with a five year waiting list and eighty three in Brisbane where he can see a particularly good one Tuesday week. These doctors are supposed to be intelligent men.

For the first visit, the three old men took the China Doll and crowded together into the surgery, which was an old semi-detached bungalow in South Brisbane, not far from where the old Salvation Army Home for Men was pulled down years before for the World Expo, and they could moor up the Brisbane River, ten minutes' walk away from the surgery. His treatment turned out to become a saga longer than Days of Our Drearys. All in all, it took them, as a team, twelve months, to give him a life worth living and by then he needed them to help him run the China Doll like he needed another hole in the head. He had nary an ache and could thread the Great Barrier Reef maze with his eyes closed as he had retained his Master's and Pilot's Tickets. It also got rid of his dandruff.

On the final day, before Edward was rostered for his final appointment to visit the quack, they picked up the kids and took in a small and extremely elegant bar in mid Gold Coast CBD. Tilly had suggested the place as some of the better healed students rave that they never butt into the hoi-poloi there and the food is reputed to be the best in town. At six dollars a tiny 7oz pot of beer, Bob Fischer can think of a couple of millionaires she also won't butt into here often either. They ate a small, but technically impeccable meal, Bob was still fucking ravishingly starving after they finished; they were all drinking excellent Irish Coffees at fifteen dollars a mug when an half a dozen impeccably dressed young Asian gentlemen and ladies entered the front door.

Bob, and strangely inside, Helen, froze, then Bob told Edward and the kids quietly to head unobtrusively to the outside and we would meet them in a while. Max motioned to the kids to remain, Bob looked at him curiously, then Max gave Edward his mobile and asked him to go outside and call the police as there is about be to a small, fracas, in this little underwhelming hamburger joint. Edward looked at Bob and his face first went white and then turned red, he stood, picked up the art nouveau heavy duty, stainless steel stool at the bar beside his seat and laid it full strength into the back of the head of the closest Chinese gentleman as he went passed. His skull collapsed in like a freshly cracked egg.

"Oh shit," was all that could be made out before the excrement was liberally laid all over the remainder of the wealthy clientéle of the lightly packed room. Okay, to be fair, except for the over wealthy clientéle in dining mode, the only people who did not know what was going down was Tilly and Junior. Maxmillian and Bob knew the moment they saw them that the Asian 'ladies and gentlemen' were Chinese People's Red Army Special Forces before a major hit. They knew it as well as they knew their own name.

They had both failed to take in consideration that mild mannered Edward, who was normally so laid back he would have watched an assault and then reported it on 000, saw Bob's actions, read his mind and, thoughtlessly, physically attacked the only people who could incense him enough to do so. Max and Bob looked at each other shrugged and Max said to Bob's surprise, "Tilly and Cecil, take the right flank." Bob had a greater surprise when they simply nodded and did so.