Aunty Mabel's Christmas

Written by: Vicky Garforth
Edited for FalWriting by: Eoin Murray

Image Credit: Shutterstock

This Christmas, I decided to paint the downstairs loo pillar box red.  I thought it would be festive and make a change from boring white. Admittedly, the downstairs loo was tiny, so it was probably a bit like sitting in hell, but I found it rather cosy.

Aunty Mabel came for Christmas Day and having shovelled more food in than was humanly possible for someone so small, her stomach started making rather alarming gurgling noises. I wasn’t sure how long she would last and knew there was a potential imminent eruption from either end, so suggested she go to the downstairs loo. I forgot that I’d painted it such a devilish colour. 

I escorted Mabel to the loo and waited outside in case she needed help. There was the loudest fart I’d heard in a long time, followed by a huge burp, worthy of Elf, and helpless giggles, as Mabel tried to pretend it wasn’t her.  

As she sat down, Mabel took in her surroundings. I’d forgotten to tell her I’d painted.  She was alarmed at the colour, the image in the mirror opposite, of her face contorted by squeezing out another sprout, that she shot off the loo, coughing and spluttering, her false teeth flying out of her mouth and landing on the floor. Wiping her bottom, she quickly rearranged her clothing, and retrieved her teeth, slightly embarrassed and still giggling. 

She rinsed them under hot water, turned to dry them and, as she flushed the toilet, accidentally dropped them in the pan. She watched them whizz around the foaming water and then they’d gone. She stared after them, hoping that by some miracle they might just pop back up. But, no, they were lost for good. 

She came back out of the toilet and looked at me in dismay, her ancient lips now crumpled up and I realised she didn’t have her teeth in.  ‘Aunty, what happened to your teeth?’ She stared back at the toilet and in an instant I understood.  Desperately stifling my giggles, I escorted her back to the table, where she sat in stony silence.

Aunty Mabel didn’t come back the following Christmas.