My wife was back living with her parents after a messy break up from her previous partner. As is typical she was finding it a little difficult having her parents watch over her every move when she had gotten used to doing her own thing. on this weekend they had friends of theirs staying in the house with them, the husband of whom was high up in the Church of England clergy and the wife a very proper lady seen as an authority in flower arranging circles.
My wife had got up in the morning and was doing some preliminary preparations for the date later that day. We had been out as part of a group socially a few times, having met through friends who both worked for an insurance company. This was our first proper date but we were already getting on well as mates. She decided to go for the full preen ready for the date and got her scissors out to trim down her pubic hair, in case things progressed faster than planned (in the end they didn't but she wasn't to know that then).
Once done she placed the clippings in the bathroom bin and after her bath she took the bin downstairs and emptied it into the main kitchen bin. To avoid anyone seeing the discarded pubes she then took the kitchen bin out into the garden to put in the black wheelie bin with the rest of the household waste. However being just a couple of days before the collection day and with the extra refuse generated by having the guest in the house the wheelie bin was full so she placed the bin bag on the ground next to it.
She thought no more about this and went about her normal day, going out for a bit of shopping for a new top to wear in the evening and then returning late afternoon to get ready. Once she was all dolled up she headed downstairs for a quick chat with her parents and their guests, ready to get a lift into town with her dad. They were all stood chatting when their cat, Mr Winky (the lesson here is never let a 4 year old name your cat) came sauntering in through the cat flap in the back door. Mr Winky padded proudly into the middle of the kitchen floor and sat down in the centre of the group and began to lick his paws in a most satisfied manner.
"Oh, what's happened to your cat, Margaret" asked the flower arranger, the first to spot that Mr Winky, a ginger cat had a strange dark shadow across his chin. "He seems to have some rough fur on his face, perhaps he's had a fight" said the clergyman. "My, he looks almost to have a beard like Lenin" he added.
The group turned to look at the cat and indeed he did seem to be sporting a thick, dark beard in the style of the Russian revolutionary. My wife's mum went over to the cat for a closer look. "It's very dark and wiry, this fur, I don't think it has come from another cat", she said. Her mum brushed the cats face and removed the errant fur. "whatever is it Karl?" talking to my wife's dad. He came over for a closer look. "How peculiar", he said "It sounds strange to say it, but they look almost like downstairs hair to me". "You're right", said my wife's mum "but where would they come from?".
With mounting horror my wife realised what must have happened. Having put the bin bag out earlier she hadn't realised at that time that the bin bag contained the leftover scraps of the salmon en croute enjoyed by her parents, the clergyman and the flower arranger the night before. Left out of the wheelie bin the piscine scents from the bin bag proved very attractive to Mr Winky. He must have ripped the bin bag open with his claws and buried his head into the bag to eat the salmon. His face now sticky with fish juice, the trimmed pubic hair must have got mixed up with the salmon and stuck to his face.
"What do you think, Karen?" asked her Dad. As the group turned to look at her, the crimson blush across her face gave away her embarrassment and the rest of the party twigged what might have been going on. "Perhaps it's from a vole" my wife managed to stammer.
"Perhaps", said her Dad "I think it's time I gave you that lift into town"
"I think it probably is", she said.
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