Upon hearing that Freddy Fit, (his son) was suffering from high cholesterol, Baz rummaged through his cupboards, found what he was looking for and rushed over to Freddy’s house.
Freddy, glad for the distraction, was pleased to see his father pull up in his driveway. He had been feeling unmotivated which was very unusual for him as he generally enjoyed working from home. It had been a real struggle all morning not to turn the telly on.
“Now Freddy, I don’t mean to alarm you but high cholesterol is a very serious matter,” Baz said sipping his coffee. “Why, right at this moment your arteries might clog up and you could drop dead to the floor.”
“It’s not that high dad,” Freddy explained wearily. He had, had the same conversation with Mrs Fit just that morning.
“Oh Freddy,” Baz said shaking his head mournfully. “A heart attack can happen when you least expect it.”
“Really and you’ve had one have you?” Freddy said sarcastically, knowing full well he hadn’t.
“Of course I haven’t and your beautiful Mum made sure I never would,” Baz said taking a bottle from the bag he was carrying. “She bought this for me. It might smell a bit rank but it does the trick.”
“Cod liver oil?” Freddy said examining the label. “It doesn’t say anything here about lowering cholesterol.”
“Did your mother ever lead us up the garden path on anything?” Baz said in disgust. “Am I not living proof of how well your mother cared for me? Shame on you Freddy Fit.”
“Alright, alright I’ll take it,” Freddy said knowing Baz wouldn’t let up until he did. He set the bottle down on the table and continued drinking his tea.
“I want to see you take it,” Baz demanded. Freddy glared at him in exasperation. “Just take it and give your old dad some peace of mind,” he insisted.
Freddy rolled his eyes, found a tablespoon and undid the lid. A most vile smell filled the room. It was like nothing he had every smelt before and was putting his gag reflexes to work in a violent manner. He rushed to the kitchen sink but in his haste tripped over a basket full of clean laundry. The repulsive oil spilt all over it.
Freddy looked down in dismay. Mrs Fit’s brand new doona cover was on top. He lifted it out gingerly. Fish oil dripped down on to the towels beneath it.
“God Almighty that is the worst smell I have ever had the displeasure of smelling,” Baz said holding his nose.
“What the hell do you mean?” Freddy asked in dismay. “Mum made you take it!”
“I said she bought it for me, I didn’t say I’d actually taken it,” Baz replied. “And now I remember why!”
“Are you serious? Then why the hell did you want me to take it?” Freddy was furious.
“Because you have high cholesterol obviously,” Baz said dismayed. He had never seem Freddy so cross before. “I only wanted to help.”
“Well you can help by putting these in the wash again,” Freddy said throwing a pair of gloves at him.
Together they bundled everything back into the washing machine, put double the amount of washing powder and softening liquid in and hoped for the best.
Perhaps they should have prayed instead because the fish smell was still as strong as ever. They put it all in the wash again but still the smell refused to budge. They sprayed it with the perfume Mrs Fit kept on the dresser, Clive Christian or something and ran it through the dryer.
They sniffed the dried washing tentatively then howled in triumph. The smell definitely still lingered but was nowhere near as pungent. Quickly they packed it all away in the linen cupboard and after giving it another spray of Mrs Fit’s perfume shut the door firmly behind them.
Later that night Mrs Fit came home in a frenzy. Mr and Mrs Groovy and all the little groovies were coming to stay. Something about an invasion of wasps in their house which had them moving out for the night.
Mrs Fit grabbed doonas, blankets and towels from the linen cupboard and asked Mr Fit to help her make the beds.
“What a strange smell,” she said as she watched Mr Fit pull her lovely new doona cover across the bed. She sniffed the air curiously.
“I can’t smell a thing,” Freddy insisted and because he could smell things a mile away she believed him. He was glad she hadn’t noticed the towels because the perfume hadn’t really helped with those.
Much later in the evening, with the windows wide open and the cat next door scratching frantically at the fly wire demanding to be let in, Mr and Mrs Groovy were unable to sleep. They couldn’t put their finger on what was wrong exactly but the room had the strangest smell as did the towels they had used to dry themselves after their shower. They actually both felt quite ill and couldn’t wait for the night to be over.
So does anyone remember having to take cod liver oil? Unfortunately I do.