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Ticking all the boxes. (standard:humor, 1035 words)
Author: red1holsAdded: Mar 13 2006Views/Reads: 2222/1417Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Charlie needs publicity. With Amy ticking so many boxes, how can he fail?
 



Ticking all the Boxes 

Charlie's job in London wasn't meeting his expectations. When he left
Oundle he expected fame and fortune fuelled by a list of prestige 
clients. Unfortunately, his was a list of a single client  Amy an 
obscure South American poet. 

What Charlie needed was publicity and he had just the people to call. 

For the Oundle Literary Festival Committee, Charlie's offer of a reader
was God sent. Amy ticked so many boxes. She was South American, so she 
gave the Literary Festival an International flavour. Her gender helped, 
as did belonging to an ethnic minority. Above all, Charlie said that 
she was available for the most nominal of fees. The small but rave 
review of her poetry in the Guardian was almost an added bonus. The 
committee unanimously agreed to book her for the International Ethnic 
Poetry Night. 

They didn't even query the quality of Amy's English. If most people
understood last years Liverpudlian poet, then they would understand 
anyone. 

For Amy, securing a poetry tour made up for the taunts and jibes about
being bookish. Her love poetry was her ticket to see the world. In a 
few short weeks, she would have the chance to see London, Oxford, 
Edinburgh and, erm... Oundle. Amy was sure that Oundle was a lovely 
place - she just couldn't find it in her atlas. 

Everyone was so caught up in the apparent perfection of the
arrangements; they somehow missed the block booking by the Islington 
Militant Feminist Group. The Tourist Information Centre was so busy, 
they didn't have time to wonder why so many asthmatic men were booking 
tickets. 

With such strong early bookings, the committee felt it was right to move
the event to the Great Hall. 

Two days before the reading, Charlie drove to Oundle to meet Amy in the
Market Place. He could have driven Amy up on the day of the reading, 
but that didn't have the impact.  Amy needed to make an entrance and 
what better entrance than the X4 bus at lunchtime? 

Charlie might live in London, but he hadn't forgotten the traditions of
Oundle parking. Studiously, he ignored the open parking bays and 
meticulously abandoned the recently valleted 4x4 across the pavement 
and double yellow lines. He bought himself some chips and with a wide 
grin settled down to wait. 

Tucking her sailor's chest under one arm, Amy stepped off the bus. At 6'
7 and wearing thigh high leather boots with a 3 inch heel, she towered 
over a growing crowd. 

A robust leather bikini top prominently displayed her ample cleavage.
The loin cloth didn't cover her modesty - it barely covered her leather 
briefs. A number of leather straps and belts accessorised the whole 
ensemble. On her back was a rather incongruous and colourful golfing 
umbrella. 

Amy shook her mane of black hair and smiled at the gawping crowd. Dozens
of schoolboy jaws dropped in unison as she stretched and finely toned 
muscles rippled under her perfect olive skin. 

Charlie's smile broadened. 

The remaining tickets for Oundle's International Ethnic Poetry Night
sold out within the hour. Before evening, there was a flourishing black 
market. The next day there were tickets selling for hundreds of pounds 
on e-Bay. 

The committee never thought that crowd control would be an issue at the
Oundle Literary Festival. Yet, three hours before Amy was due to speak, 
hundreds of people had gathered outside the Great Hall. For some reason 
the papers and TV news people had turned up. Suddenly, having three 
elderly volunteers in charge of the door didn't seem adequate. 



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