There was a woman in my bed

 

It was late in the evening when I entered my hotel room. It had been a long day at work with one meeting following another, and then I had to attend a Conference where they discussed ways to extrapolate sales and costs figures against profits in order to estimate how many paper clips we’ll need five years from now. It was so exhilarating that I could not sleep at all throughout the Conference.

Anyway, I got to my hotel room late and got myself in by using one of those electronic cards you put in a slot and the door opens. I did not bother to switch all lights on. A small light shone from a nearby table-lamp and this was enough. I intended to fall into bed and dream of better days.

As I took my jacket off a man got out of the en-suite bathroom in his pajamas. Why he had an en-suite bathroom in his pajamas I do not know. Maybe he was rich and could afford an en-suite bathroom in his pajamas; whilst the rest of us have to be content with an elastic band or a cord to keep our pajama pants up.

I don’t know what nationality he was, but as soon as he saw me the man said: “Qui êtes-vous? Que faites-vous ici?”

I know exactly what he said because I remember writing it down at the time. I then took out a dictionary to translate but could not understand a word. It was an Italian dictionary.

The man shouted at me and beckoned me to get out of my room. At which point an enormously rotund woman got up from my bed and she too started shouting at me “Allez-vous en!  Allez-vous en!” and waving her hands in the air. 

I wrote that down too but could not find a translation in my Italian dictionary.

I picked up my jacket and as I turned to get out I accidentally knocked a large wicker basket which was on the table beside me. The top of the basket opened and a flock of pigeons came flying out into the room. They flew everywhere, trying to land on something high up. Luckily the bedroom door was shut and they eventually settled on the wardrobe, hanged from the chandelier, (it was a posh hotel), and one settled on the man’s head.

There was cooing and flapping of wings everywhere. A few feathers floated in the air before settling to the ground. The pigeons did what most animals do when frightened and started leaving deposits everywhere. Including on the man’s head.

I was totally stunned by what had just happened and stood perfectly still. The rotund woman picked up the phone on the bedside table and started shouting in broken English “pee john pee john …”

Moments later a hotel porter entered the room and disturbed all the pigeons which started flying all over again and dropping deposits all over the place.

We waited until they had settled down and then he asked me “Why do you have pigeons in your room, Sir? Pets are not allowed in this hotel!”

I was astounded that he asked me about the pigeons and had totally ignored the fact that I also had a rotund woman in my bed and a man with an en-suite bathroom in his pajamas.

He asked for my electronic card which he tested on the door. It worked. He then took the man’s electronic card. It worked too.

You guessed it. It was a double booking and we’d both been given the same cards.

I picked up my luggage and was moved to another room.

By now you may be asking why there were pigeons in a wicker basket in my room.

Simple.

I was told the man was a magician and he used the pigeons in his act by making them appear and disappear out of a hat. Apparently his wife, whilst younger and less rotund, was a stripper and she too used the pigeons in her act. For an encore the pigeons used to take their feathers off! 

NOTE 

This was an excerpt from my memoirs "AS I QUOTE MYSELF". A book full of misadventures and mishaps to make you laugh out loud, or at least to smile.

PLEASE CLICK HERE

As I Quote Myself

... ... after the evening meal, my boss, a woman in her early thirties, went up to her room. Before she left the table she asked me discretely to follow her a few minutes later. She gave me a duplicate plastic card to use in that contraption which opens the hotel room door. She said she wanted to discuss my annual appraisal report.

I was hesitant at first. I sipped my coffee slowly to waste time and to gather enough courage to decide what to do. My boss was not one to argue with. When she said, “Jump” we replied, “How high”, rather than question her request – or should I say her command.

A few minutes later I entered her room and it was empty. I said loudly, "Hello ... anyone here?"

Her voice replied from the bathroom, "I'm in the shower. Come in!"

I was astounded and frightened at this request which, as I said earlier, sounded more like a command.

My boss had a certain reputation amongst the office gossip grapevine but I never quite believed it. It seemed that now was the time for me to sample such a reputation.

I did not know what to do, especially since my future career at this firm depended so much on her and her appraisal of me. I hesitated for a while.

"Get a move on," she cried impatiently from the bathroom, "I'm not going to wait all night!"

Those were her exact words; I still remember them clearly. She obviously meant business and my future life flashed in front of my eyes.

I was totally confused. I sought guidance from my abbreviated Catechism which I carried in my pocket but I could not find an answer in a hurry. They really should have a better index in those books.

I took off my jacket and put it on the back of the chair. Then I took off my shoes. I had a big hole in one of my socks!

Before I could go on any further she came out of the bathroom fully clothed and speaking on her cell-phone. Apparently you get a better reception in the shower than anywhere else in her hotel room.

"Why have you taken your shoes off?" she asked.

"I did not want to dirty the carpet!" I replied unconvincingly.

I wonder if she believed me. Fortunately I got a good annual appraisal although she did say I often get the wrong end of the stick.

 *******

AS I QUOTE MYSELF is not a biography of a famous celebrity, or other well known personality telling you how they made it good from extreme poverty to being as successful as they are today. Instead, these are the memoirs of someone you’ve probably never heard of, (unless you’re related to him), but yet with a story to tell.

A series of calamities and misfortunes with humourous outcomes which are sure to make you smile, if not laugh out loud. At least that’s what he hopes! AS I QUOTE MYSELF are the memoirs of no one in particular except the one from whose memories they originate.

*******

AMAZON REVIEWS

*****  Victor's imagination knows no bounds! Were I only to possess a kernel ... but will be content to applaud from the sidelines. Myra G.

*****  I was first introduced to Victor's work in the blogging world. I was so enamored with his great sense of humor, that I never hesitated when he announced this book on his blog, "Time for Reflections". It is so refreshing to read a humorous book filled with wit and humor without the need to spice it up with vulgar language or sexual undertones. Victor shows us, page after page, life is quite humorous -especially when you don't mind making yourself the brunt of the joke. An easy to read - delightful page turner - Victor has once again hit a home run with this little charmer! LJC.

*****  I did not know that as the author of this book I could leave a review; but I tell you folks, my memoirs made me laugh so much I had to write them sitting down. A book not to be missed especially if you are throwing it at someone. Makes an ideal Christmas or Birthday present to someone you don't like. A book with non-boomerang qualities. Will not return when thrown. The only book in the world written slowly to make it last longer. Not edible but can be grilled or barbecued safely. Victor S E Moubarak.

AVAILABLE FROM AMAZON in Paperback, Kindle version as well as Audiobook and Alexa.

AMAZON LINK HERE 

Typing my memoirs

 

I have joined an on-line keep fit class. You link to this website and you see other people in their homes and also the "instructor". He does the exercises and you copy him. We can all see each other through our laptop cameras.

Before we started I bent, twisted, gyrated, jumped up and down, trying to put my leotard on. Then I heard the whole class applauding. They told me I was very entertaining. I did not know the camera was switched on!!!

You should have seen the comments I received by text and e-mails from my "audience". The ladies in particular were the most embarrassing. Perhaps I should not have borrowed my wife's leotard and exercised in T shirt and jeans instead. 

 

When she saw me in her leotard she was livid. She said I looked like a flamingo standing in that pose in her pink bodysuit. So I put my foot down; which was a little difficult in that hugging outfit which left little to the imagination.

She gets all upset at my attempts to keep fit. The previous day I had swapped our bed for a trampoline and she hit the roof.

I usually have a good night's sleep. On some mornings I wake up grumpy ... on others I let her sleep and go down for breakfast. I usually bring her tea in my pyjamas. Is she grateful? No ... she says she prefers it in a cup.

This morning I discovered our new puppy had eaten all the Scrabble tiles and left little messages around the house.

We like to go out  for a meal at least once a week. We used to go to our favourite Italian restaurant in town. We've stopped now because their cook has pasta away!

There's a new restaurant in town called Karma. They have no menus. You get what you deserve!

Anyway, today I put some corn flakes in a bowl and watched the news on TV. They said that a midget fortune-teller had escaped from a prison van. The headline was, "Small medium at large". This happened when the prison van had collided with a lorry full of mixed concrete. The police are looking for some hardened criminals.

In another crime related story, it was reported that a hole had been found in the local nudist-camp wall. The police are looking into it. They then entered the premises and interviewed a number of people airing their differences. The police believed that the members were withholding evidence, but the nudists insisted they had nothing to hide.

Our local papers are reporting that a driver was stopped by the police for ignoring a red light. The driver started swearing aggressively and calling the policeman all sorts of names. The policeman explained the offence and gave the driver a ticket. The driver asked, "What's this AH in the corner of the ticket?"

"Oh ... it's to remind me that you're an a... hole!" said the policeman.

In Court the driver hired a clever lawyer who asked the policeman, "Is this your writing on this ticket?"

The policeman confirmed that it is. So the lawyer tried to trap him by asking, "What does AH mean?"

"It means aggressive and hostile," replied the policeman.

"Are you sure it does not mean a... hole?" asked the lawyer.

"You probably know your client better than I do," said the policeman calmly.

Another story in the papers is about a man who had pick-pocketed a dwarf. How could he stoop so low?

A friend of mine divorced after 25 years of marriage because his wife is violent and  keeps throwing things at him when angry: plates, cups, saucers, whatever is at hand she throws.

The judge asked him, "What took you so long to decide on divorce?"

He replied, "Her aim is getting better!"

There was an Automobile Rescue van parked outside our house yesterday. You know those rescue vans that come out to help you when your car won't go? The driver was sobbing uncontrollably and looked very miserable. I thought to myself, "that guy’s heading for a breakdown".

At this point the door bell rang. It was our friend Mavis, she was distraught and sobbing bitterly. I can't handle women crying. I mean ... what are you supposed to do? Is it OK these days to hug crying women to comfort them? What if they misunderstand your hug for something else?

I tried to cheer her up by telling her about our problems. I told her that the other day my wife asked me to pass her her lipstick; but I accidentally passed her a glue stick instead. She still isn't talking to me.

Mavis cried some more. I poured her a cup of tea and asked her what's wrong. Apparently, she had put on her most revealing negligent and asked her husband, "What do you like most about me, my pretty face or my sexy body?" He looked her up and down and replied, "I like your sense of humour!"   

You might like my other humourous memoirs in my book:

AMAZON LINK HERE

AMAZON LINK FOR MORE OF SAME

Door-To-Door

Did you know one of my first jobs when I was young was as a door-to-door salesman? I fancied myself as a good talker and took up the challenge to be a salesman able to sell just anything.

The marketing agency for which I worked linked me with a door manufacturer and my first job was a door-to-door salesman selling doors.

I had three doors strapped on my back to show potential clients the different qualities available; and I also carried two suitcases. One was full of locks and handles for clients to choose, and the other case was full of hinges of different sizes and materials.

I remember once I knocked at a door and a very tall man opened it and said: “Yes? What do you want?”

“Good morning Sir,” I said as I was trained by our chief salesman to say, “I am here to open doors to great opportunities!”

I know, it’s a corny opening line, but it was part of our slogan and it had to be said every time we met a new customer.

Anyway, I said my line to the astonished man standing there then as I stooped down to place the two suitcases I was carrying on the ground, I bent forward a little, and the doors on my back hit him hard on the forehead.

He had a small cut on his head and it started bleeding a little.

"Do you have any Band-Aid and bandage dressing?" I asked him.

"Do you need some too?" he replied holding a handkerchief to his head, "where did you hurt yourself?"

"Not for me ... for you ..." I said. "I’m a trained first-aider you know, as well as being a door salesman. Anyway ... it looks like your injury has stopped bleeding now, and I'm glad you didn't damage my doors."

He grunted and said nothing.

I then unstrapped the three doors off my back and proceeded to explain how well made they were. One was made of oak, another of mahogany, and the third was cheap plastic in case the clients couldn't afford the other two.

"It's the de-lux economy version ..." I said trying to encourage a sale.

He explained that he already had a front door which suited him quite nicely, thank you.

On another occasion I was selling in a very posh area of town. To be honest, I had no chance of selling a door there. The houses were so big and luxurious that I wouldn’t mind guessing that their front doors cost more than the house where I was living at the time. But I was assigned that area by the chief salesman and as an extra incentive he doubled the commission I would make if I sold any doors there.

I rang the bell at one of these luxurious houses and it was opened by a young woman totally naked.

“Yes?” she whispered softly standing there with a smile on her face.

For a moment or so I forgot our opening line, “I am here to open doors to great opportunities!”

I just mumbled, “Do you want a door?”

She smiled and said, “Not today, thank you!”

Before I could say anything more, the strap holding the doors to my back broke and the three doors I was carrying crashed to the ground with a big bang. A large dog inside the house began to bark ferociously. I left the doors there and ran away.

I phoned my chief salesman and he instructed me to retrieve the doors or else he would deduct the money from my pay.

I plucked up courage and returned to the house. My doors were no longer there. I summoned every ounce of courage and rang the bell again.

This time it was opened by a big man, also totally naked.

I explained the situation about the doors and my chief salesman and I must admit I was surprised at how understanding he was.

I guess I am the only salesman to buy back his products from a client who never paid for them in the first place.

IF YOU WANT TO LAUGH MORE AT ME 

READ MY MEMOIRES HERE

As I Quote Myself

 

 

We entered the house and were met by a young-ish woman named Elvira; she was in her mid-thirties I would guess.

She took us to our rooms upstairs and suggested that "dinner" was at seven o'clock prompt.

As Elvira left I noticed that the door had no lock, and the room was rather cold and damp, but at least it had hot and cold running cockroaches.

I killed one of them on the wall by my bed and pretty soon there were dozen others attending the funeral.

I pulled the bed away from the wall and the cockroaches pulled it back to hide their habitat.

*******

I went to my room, got in bed to keep warm as best I could, and started reading the many reports I'd been given by Branch Office about their sales and profits projections.

After an hour or so there was a knock at the door and Elvira came in wearing a very revealing see-through white negligent. (Is that what they call it?)

I did not know where to look ... well, I did really, because she was speaking to me at the time. And it is not polite to look elsewhere when someone is speaking to you.

"Do you want some time?" she asked with a smile.

I must have misheard her, (or was it my subconscious), because I looked at my watch and said, "It is a quarter to ten!"

She moved forward a couple more steps teasingly and asked again, "Do you want something to keep you warm?"

"Yes please," I replied, "I'd like a hot chocolate drink if I may."

"You don't understand," she continued patiently as she sat on the bed, "You have not left your shoes outside the door, which means you require personal services ..."

At last the penny dropped in a young man's befuddled mind. So that's why she was wearing nothing else but the revealing see-through negligent despite the freezing cold! I thought she was just hot-blooded.

"My shoes," I mumbled "I'll ... I'll ... I'll put them out later ... I must have forgotten ..."

"So I went to all this trouble for nothing?" she growled as she stood up, "do you think your friend forgot to put his shoes out too?"

"I don't know ... better ask him ..." I mumbled again as she left.

Needless to say, I stayed up all night fearful in case anyone took my shoes!!!

*******

AS I QUOTE MYSELF is not a biography of a famous celebrity, or other well-known personality telling you how they made it good from extreme poverty to being as successful as they are today. Instead, these are the memoirs of someone you’ve probably never heard of, (unless you’re related to him), but yet with a story to tell.

Follow his misadventures and mishaps as he stumbles through life from one crazy story to another. Imagine him sitting on a rocking chair, a mug of hot chocolate in one hand and a biscuit in the other, relating what he can still remember in a haphazard and non-chronological order. Just like any other conversation really.

One thought triggers another and each competing for a modicum of veracity and a pinch of authenticity. A series of calamities and misfortunes with humourous outcomes which are sure to make you smile, if not laugh out loud. At least that’s what he hopes!

AS I QUOTE MYSELF are the memoirs of no one in particular except the one from whose memories they originate. Enjoy. 

Paperback & Kindle from AMAZON - ISBN 978 1516 978250

CLICK HERE