Coming out of the Closet

Coming out of the Closet ©

By

Michael Casey

I’ve just tied up my wardrobe, or rather what used to be my wardrobe, and it was interesting to discover what was inside. And for all of you who thought I was going to declare myself Gay, sorry to disappoint you. I am only interested in Women, real ones, and with an eye to the Oriental, such as Korea, Japan and China. My wife is a Shanghai girl after all. Though my next wife will be Korean, depending on which one of us dies first. I’ve looked outside and the hitman has not arrived, yet. Not unless my wife hires a Korean girl to kill me. She will be going out with her Gay male friend later on, such is life’s eternal balance. Meanwhile my girls are at the Panto with other members of my family. Panto is where men dress as women and vice versa, it’s the end of the Panto season today and it could be Dick Whittington who used his cat to clean out all the rats in London. Which is vaguely topical.

So let’s get back to me and my closet, it is nearly big enough for me to climb into, and then I really would be coming out of my closet, but only to carry clothes, no other meaning implied. That’s the joy of language, you can give it many meanings. That’s what Shakespeare enjoyed doing with his puns. I hope all students passing by my site this weekend have as much fun with language as I do, whatever your own first language happens to be, and you speak 25 different languages at least. Maybe one of you reading this really is the Korean girl hitman or hitgirl waiting to take me out. I hope the take out is prawn toast from the local Chinese us the road, or then again you may be introducing me to the undertaker.

At this point I need a bit of food so I’ll pause and eat while you amuse yourselves, you may even ring your mother to say you are coming out of the closet. To which she will reply,I knew before you even knew,I am your mother after all. Just bring in the coal from the coal shed when you come home, those 100kilo sacks are too heavy for your old mum. I love you whatever you want to call yourself, the only name I know you by is Son. Which is as it should be.

Well I stumbled to the shop, my arthritis is being a *&*( today and I bought some bread and I’ve had a feed so I’m back with you all refreshed. I did nearly trip over a bag of clothes for the Charity shop, as wife has had a clear-out while our daughters are at the Panto with uncles and aunties, and left a bag by the front door. But if I spot our local Romanian recycle lady she’ll have them first. That’s the nice thing about clear-outs your old stuff finds new life and goes to those who really really need a hand up.

So now Freddie Mercury is singing to me as I talk to you, and did you know 30 years ago I used to look a bit like him, or so my wife claims when she looked at old photos of me. You discover things you thought were lost when you look in the closet. My clothes are scattered in 3 bedrooms, as daughters and the wife lay claim to all the storage space. I’m lucky my clothes aren’t squeezed between the cat food and our 2 month supply of toilet paper, yes I need to be ready hence that much toilet paper.We had 192 rolls delivered 2 days ago. See I am a boy scout, always prepared.

I found 3 jumpers folded into a rolled up mess, at the bottom of the closet, I think the girls had been using it as a draught excluder for their door, or for a cat pillow. It’s dad’s he won’t mind, especially if we don’t tell him. This is the worse winter in 10 years maybe and I need all my jumpers, but at least the cat had a pillow.

I did find a new belt, I had bought it in Italy in 95 I think, but it languished in the wardrobe. I bought a lot of belts as I could not find anything else I liked on holiday. Or my sister would say, you were just too fat, admit it, too fat by far, so you bought belts to hold your up your trousers, you big little fattie. She’s got a Canary up the Leg of her Drawers you know, and when she farts, well you can Google that to find the full rhythm. I did of course teach my girls the rhythm as soon as they understood the meaning of words, so when they were 3.

I found loads and loads of plastic bags, I hope my wife hasn’t been saving them to wrap my body in after the Korean girl hitman pays me a visit. But of course not we don’t have a deep freeze in the garage, though she was looking at a freezer catalogue recently, no it can’t be, its just my imagination.

What else did I find in the closet, I found a dolls house, my daughter’s first dolls house, she has a bigger one just outside the wardrobe. I was half expecting to find a way to Narnia as I pushed the clothes to one side. But there are no Princes in my wardrobe, there is a witch in the house but that is the wife downstairs, I am her Panda or Polar Bear, when she isn’t calling me Panzi. You can Google Panzi its Pinyin Chinese.

What else was in the closet? Tiny thin metal coat hangers which we all hate, wooden or plastic are far nicer. My old school tie had also survived, 40 years old and more. Then at the bottom of the wardrobe I found some slippers, not for any Cinderella nor for any Pantomime Dame, NO I’m not talking about myself. I thought Lech and Boris and Gregorgi were still shoveling snow in Davos, oh no we are not, oh yes we are, oh no we are not. Those three are just too clever.

Then there was a half coffin size box at the bottom of the closet. My small daughter keeps her treasure in it. But if the Trio are back and if the Korean hit girl does come for me, will they save me or offer their services to bury me in the 1/2 coffin size box. I’ll fold the story there.