Male order

You know the type of things you see advertised with crap 1950s-style black & white diagrams in the Sunday papers, or those daft little catalogues that accompany them? Well for Sam Black, it all started with an order for a set of orthopaedic insoles and went downhill from there.

Part the first: Would like to meet?
Sam had always suffered from knee and shin problems while walking and saw the advert for Dr Foot's magic sports insoles as a godsend. Not trusting the security in online shopping, she'd phoned up Your Health Solutions of Manchesterford to place her order and regretted her decision as soon as the sales operative started trying to sell her other items from the Your Health range.

"Many of our customers find the adjustable hernia belt most useful and we do a roaring trade in incontinence products. Not to mention our back-support girdles..."

"No, I'll be fine with the shoe supports," she interrupted, "although I may bear those other things in mind when I'm a bit older."

Immediately, she bit her lip, knowing the response her this statement would invite from the youthful-sounding man on the phone.

"Yes, of course madam, I was letting my enthusiasm for our products run away with me. You don't sound much older than me. In fact, you don't live too far from where I am, do you go out much in Manchesterford?"

Oh fuck, she thought.

"No, not really, I'm stuck in the house at the moment, I'm waiting for my motorised scooter to be repaired. And I never have been one for going out, what with the embarrassing way I react to being in open spaces."

"Oh, OK then madam, it's been nice talking to you. Your items will be delivered within the next couple of days".

Sam hated lying, but she couldn't be doing with being chatted up on the phone by another stranger. While she was on the run from her past, the best way to maintain her anonymity was to stay away from all unnecessary interaction. She couldn't be doing with crazed policemen or circus freaks again, never again. Besides, the clown makeup brought her out in spots and the wig made her head itch. Her head spun for a couple more minutes and then her anxieties subsided enough to allow her a good session of pelvic floor exercises; they were bound to start helping sooner or later.

Part the second: Getting to know you
A few days had gone by and she'd almost forgotten that she's ordered her Dr Foot sports support insoles. As she jogged round the corner towards her house though, the stabbing pain returned to her shins and she was forced to slow down to a walk. I wonder if those insoles will work, she thought as she opened her gate and walked towards her front door. She was surprised to see a young man waiting for her, he was holding a package. His hair was stuck to his head with gel or grease, he was hopelessly long-sighted, but at least his acne was clearing up. Sam wondered whether, in his early twenties, this chap's mum still chose his clothes.

"Good morning madam," he greated her, "I've got a parcel for a Sam Black. I've tried knocking, but there's no reply. Can you help?"

"Oh, that's my husband," such a convenient name at times, "he's just behind me, he likes to run little further than me so he's doing an extra block. I can take that if you like."

"Sam's a man?"

"Yerrssss, Sam's my husband"

"Oh, it's just that when I spoke to Sam the other night, when I took the order, Sam was a woman."

Jesus, it was the bloke off the phone... him from Your Health, the one she'd lied to about not being able to get about. FUCK!

"You see," he continued, "I thought, hang Data Protection! It'd be nice to drop things round in person to see how you were getting along. Sam! But you had to LIE, didn't you? SAM?? eh, SAM????"

He started spitting and twitching, if it hadn't been so scary, it would have been hilarious!

She quelled the instinct to burst out laughing at him and thought of something that might calm the situation.

"Yes, Sam, that's me too and my husband is called Sam. What's your name?"

"IaaannnnnnnNNN!" he glared at her.


Part the third: Partings are such sweet sorrow
"Well Ian, you see there was an amazing miracle. I won the lottery and went to see a vey expensive doctor about my condition. I paid him lots of money and he cured me! So here I am! Cured! Ha ha ha ha"

"Really? That's wonderful! You're very lucky. Here's your package, would you mind signing please? Thanks then, bye!"

So that was that. She watched as he wandered off down the road and wondered how it was possible to have so many spots visible in a hair parting.

Damn, she thought, I think I did a little pee when Ian rumbled me. I'll have to get something that will help prevent embarrassing moments like that in the future.


(Don't ask, just don't ask)