Mum gave me S.O.S. as usual, socks and shirt, Dad nothing as usual as he doesn't and never has known what day of the year or week it is, and an interesting book from my sister. But big disappointment, just a gift voucher from Aunty Marribelle.
I put it down, I didn't read it, why had she not given me something special, like last year a gold-plated vuvuzela.
I picked it up the next day and read it. My name was on it and the name of the school for wasted orphans and the promise to give me a girl and the number nineteen.
I decided to visit the school, it was not far away, and claim my girl. Outside the school was a large crowd of girls in funny clothing shouting very loudly. In the middle of the crowd were some girls in funnier clothing running about hitting each other with rods.
I ignored this and entered the school buildings, very empty, however I did find the school secretary and showed her the gift voucher. “Oh, yes!” she said. “All the girls are outside playing hockey, a dangerous, vicious game, but builds the character, you know!”
She stamped the voucher and gave it back to me “Number nineteen!” she said. “She's outside playing hockey with a big one and a big nine on her front.” I decided not to ask any more questions and went outside.
It was true, all the girls had a number on their front. I soon found number nineteen, she was not running about as fast as the other girls, she was a bit plump, but she seemed happy enough. A whistle blew and the running stopped.
I showed her the gift voucher with the stamp. “Oh, great! Hey, everybody, I just got chosen, I'm the first to be selected this year.” The other girls looked at her as if she had hit them on the back of the head with her wooden stick, they were jealous.
I drove home. “I'm eighteen, you know.” Oh, no, big problem, had I got the right girl? She had a big nineteen on her front and I was not taking her back to the school, I quite liked her.
“I'm eighteen years old. When we get to eighteen the school sells us – mostly to old men. That's how the school makes its money, you know.”
I explained that my aunt Marribelle had bought me the gift voucher for my birthday. She sang “Happy Birthday” to me, it was the first time that a birthday present had sung that song to me, perhaps because the copyright on it had just stopped.
I sat her on the kitchen table, she was wearing a short dark skirt, a dark T-shirt, big thick socks and funny boots. I walked around her and looked at her.
I unlaced one boot and struggled with the sock. I had to suck that big toe – it was good. But what a funny skirt, it had a panel with a large one and a large nine on her chest and two wide straps over her shoulders and crossed at the back. The straps were very taut.
“What's that?” “My gym slip, it's royal blue with white digits, the school colours, you know.” I didn't like it, I told her to remove it and throw it in the corner. It didn't move, it was dead. “See, it's dead, you never have to wear that again, you are not nineteen any more.”
“I'm eighteen, you know.” I tried to think of a name for her, perhaps Sexy Lump, perhaps not. “Sexy Lump, do you want round tomatoes or square ones?” doesn't sound so good in the supermarket.
By this time I had got her other big toe in my mouth and I noticed that she had a lot of wood in front of the hut. Perhaps that's what the straps had been for – to flatten them.
I took off her T-shirt and lifted one of her breasts – it was damp and wet underneath. “Don't you normally wear a bra?” “What's that?” “It lifts your breasts up, makes 'em look good and stops sore nipples...” I let the breast fall gently back into place, I didn't normally wear a bra either.
She had very long hair, but all tied up in a ponytail. “It keeps it out of my face on the hockey field, you know.” I snapped the rubber band and her hair fell down on her shoulders, very good.
“Stand up and drop 'em!” I threw the navy blue T-shirt and knickers into the corner. I walked around her, she did look good and no one can say that I was not grateful. I picked up my mobile phone and called Aunty Marribelle. “Thank you, thank you! Great present, I just unwrapped it and now I'm going to play with it. Thank you so much!”
I did think about washing her, but I remembered that washing someone before having sex with him or her is a sign of bad character.
“I've decided, later on I will wash you and measure you and order some nice clothes for you from the Internet, but first...”