dyslexia

strange conversation with customers.

Benny had just opened for the day. He’d arranged the wicker chairs around the dozen or so tables and was now vigorously wiping the beer taps with a piece of cloth. As he was proudly grinning at his distorted reflection, the little bell on top of the door pinged and he looked up to see an elderly couple enter his pub. He beamed at his first customers of the day and greeted them:

“Good morning folks!”

The couple started towards the bar as the door swung shut behind them. The man was balding on top and the hair on either side of his head was milky white. His beady eyes were almost hidden behind thick glasses and his bushy eyebrows seemed to rest on the black frame of his cheaters. He had a handlebar moustache under a bulbous nose covered in a network of broken capillaries.

“Morning”, responded the man as he climbed on a stool.

His companion was a small woman with an erect body. She had bags under her eyes which were the bluest Benny had ever seen. Her nose was pointy and her lips were pinched in a thin line.

“..orning”, she mumbled as she sat beside the man.

“What can I get you?” said Benny with a smile.

“A pint of fager with femonade, pfease”, said the man.

“I beg your pardon”, answered Benny, puzzled.

“Pint of lager with lemonade”, clarified the woman helpfully.

“Ah, yes, right away. And you Madam?”

“I’ll have a pourpon.”

“Sorry? A what?”

“A bourbon”, said her companion.

“Uhm.. Yes, sure.”

The man saw the frown on Benny’s face and looked at his wife with a raised eyebrow. (I’m not sure which eyebrow. Right or left. You see, contrary to the common belief, a writer doesn’t necessarily know everything about his characters).

His wife shrugged her shoulders and said: “Tell him!”

Mr. handlebar moustache said: “Right” and took a gulp of his drink.

“I have a rare form of dysfexia. I can’t pronounce the letter “F”.

“ ‘L’ ”, said Benny, helpfully.

“Yes, F. When I was a smaff fad, I suffered a trauma. I was bitten by a fox.”

“What’s a lox?” Benny wanted to know.

“No, not a fox. A fox. You know that animaf with a ffuffy taif. Anyway, it was bad f**k. I was coffecting fungi when I stumbfed upon a fitter of foxes. The fox was onfy defending its fittfe ones. Bad f**k, as I said.”

“Well, I must say”, said Benny, “that it’s disconcerting to have a conversation with you.”

“Teff me about it”, replied the man. “How do you think I feef when peopfe fook at me puzzfed?”

“Put, along the years”, put in the wife, tucking an unruly lock of hair behind her ear, “people got used to him. Put it sure was puffling at first.”

“Erm.. If I may ask, Madam, do you have a similar condition?”

“Oh no”, said Betty, “I can’t pronounce the letter P.”

“B?” asked Benny.

“Yes, P. you see, a few years ago, I happened to pe in the street..”

“Pee in the street?” asked the barman, appalled.

“No, ‘Pe’, as in papy, pingo, park, palls, crap.”

“Ok. I get it. Be in the street.”

“So, I was peeing in the street. I mean I happened to pe in the street when this prawl proke out and this pastard hit me with his prick on the head.”

“His what?” spluttered Benny, obviously shocked.

“Not that sort of prick! He was throwing pricks. You know, pig, red pricks. Those red oplong things you use to puild houses.”

"Oh, I’m sorry, “brick”. Right, get it.”

Betty (aha! So that’s her name!) took a sip of her pourpon. Damn! I’m starting to sound like her, now!

Betty took a sip of her bourbon and daintily deposited her glass on the pink coaster, pinky raised.

“As if that was not enough, as I was lying on the floor, pleeding, one of the thugs stepped on my poop.”

Benny blew his cheeks and made round eyes. He said:

“Boy! What were the odds the two of you getting together?”

“Yeah, one in a pillion”, said Betty.

“Bad f**k, as I said”, added the man, scratching his nose.    

Author's Note

First off, I hope nobody gets offeneded. I meant the story for fun.
Secondly, I don't know if you're going to find it funny. I had this idea and wanted to try it. I'd be much obliged if you could give me your honest opinion.

Reviews

[DaughterNature]

Ahahaha, I liked this -- it's very funny, although I severely doubt that this would clinically be called dyslexia, as that is the name for the condition where people have a difficult time reading, not speaking.

A few notes: I believe the gentleman might be calling for a pint of "lager" (a type of beer) rather than a "larger" (an adjective that denotes size). I understand that you might have been going for humor with your parenthetical about the eyebrow, but the story is funny enough on its own, so the parenthetical comes off as a weird authorial voice. I also don't think that you call a litter of foxes a "litter of vixen," since "vixen" is the term for a female fox, and it sounds like the character didn't get close enough to judge the sex of the babies before he was bitten. Again, the authorial voice insertion with the "pourpon" comment feels unnecessary to the comedy of the piece. And although the "stepped on my poop" line is funny, I sincerely doubt that the character Betty would actually say someone stepped on her "b**b."

On the whole, however, very snappy and funny!

[Woody]

thank you very much for your input. which, incidentally, made me laugh. glad you thought it was funny. this is the first time I felt uncomfortable writing a story.
you're right about the lager. silly mistake of mine.
I knew about dyslexia. it's the character who got it wrong.
the eyebrow. I thought it was funny. looks like I was wrong. you see, I like to do those little asides in a few of my stories but, ok. maybe that was overkill.
vixen is another stupid mistake. I should've checked that.
as for the poop, well I had to make that joke.
again thank you very much :)

[Nusquam Esse]

Seems that DaughterNature caught all the problems... (at least that I could see). As she said, this wouldn't be considered Dyslexia (although it seems you were well aware of this). Regardless, this is a very amusing story, and I really enjoyed the dialogue! Seriously, great job on this one.

[Woody]

thank you very much indeed. I'm kind of relieved for I was not quite sure how the reader would react to the confusing exchanges.

[Marie]

Yes, I found it funny, and I'm sure others will. But you can be funny without resorting to this sort of humour. You're too good for it.

[Woody]

oh, I know, Marie. you know I'm not vulgar but just for this one, I couldn't resist the use of the F word in that context. I felt it was too good to pass

[Marie]

I completely understand.