Crazy Cornelius & the Magic Pills Ch. 01

"So, what have you been doing today?" Erica asked conversationally.

Her sister-in-law shrugged. "Oh, just chilling, watching TV and menstruating."

Danielle allowed her legs to open and she sat in rather an un-ladylike position. Erica and Gavin could see Danielle's panty lines through her leggings, but more significantly in her crotch was a rectangular shape caused by the maxi-pad she wore in her knickers. Erica knew that Danielle was currently having her period as she was hardly discrete about such matters, but her eyes went wide at seeing the shape of Danielle's napkin between her legs, and Gavin's eyes looked like they might pop out of his skull.

The young man began to blush and stammer. "Isn't it um, nice -- lovely weather -- in um ah, Sydney today?" he stammered, trying not to look at the outline Danielle's menstrual pad between her legs but unable to prevent his gaze going to this area.

Danielle could see that she was making Erica flustered, but the look on her face showed amusement and the girl casually allowed her legs to open more so the fabric of her stirrup pants became even tighter, and the shape of her period pad more visible. She did not speak, but took her can of soft drink and had a swig, belching loudly without excusing herself.

"We um, really need to go and study," said Erica, scurrying from the living room, leading her shell-shocked boyfriend away from her sister-in-law.

Danielle giggled at his discomfort as they departed. "Hey Gavin, if you want to be a nurse you'd better overcome your phobia of periods, one day you'll have to help a female patient with blood coming out of her vagina." She laughed again, before reaching between her legs and adjusting her panty pad through her leggings and undies.

*

Faye Hawkins was the next member of the family to arrive home. Slim and petite like Erica, Faye stood barely five feet in height with shoulder-length red hair. Faye retained the good looks of her younger years despite having reached the age of 50 and the stresses of two crazy sons and a crazy husband.

While Gavin obviously had never voiced the opinion aloud to Erica nor anyone else, he had often speculated how Faye put up with her bad-tempered bigot of a husband. True Alistair had been a handsome guy in his earlier years and like his wife retained his good looks at the age of 52, but Faye was an intelligent woman and surely must have had some clue before she married Alistair what sort of a tyrant he would be like?

Faye opened the front door of the house and entered, immediately seeing Danielle lounging around on the living room couch, dirty plate, cutlery and empty soft drink cans on the table. The petite redhead looked disapprovingly at her daughter-in-law as she lounged on the couch, not bothered about cleaning up after herself.

"Danielle, if you aren't working can you clean up after yourself, please?" Faye pointed at the table.

Danielle shrugged, opened up her legs and scratched her crotch through her leggings around the shape of her pad. "I can," her daughter-in-law said in her typical passive-aggressive response.

House-proud Faye shook her head, then grabbed the items that Danielle clearly had no intention of clearing up and took them into the kitchen, her petite figure clearly shaking with frustration as she threw the cans into the recycling and prepared to wash the plate and cutlery, as well as clean up the mess Danielle had made in the kitchen preparing her lunch hours earlier.

Erica and Gavin entered the kitchen to get glasses of water.

"Hi Faye, how are you?" Gavin asked.

"Hi Mum, how was your day at work?" Erica asked.

Faye gave her daughter and daughter's boyfriend a friendly smile. "Oh, not bad Erica and Gavin. I wish I was still there, not coming home to her." The petite redhead glared in the direction of the living room, where Danielle continued to lounge around on the couch watching television. "Your brother has a lot to answer for, and I don't mean Brendan. How about you? How was university?"

"Pretty good," said Erica, with the three of them talking for a few minutes before Erica and Gavin returned to their university assignment and Faye made a start on dinner.

On their way back to Erica's room, the two teenagers passed the closed door that led to the granny flat, and could hear the faint sound of Brendan moving around, possibly rearranging some things.

"See, he's definitely okay and up and about," Erica said.

With Faye working in the kitchen, Danielle watching television, Erica and Gavin studying and Brendan doing whatever he did all day in the granny flat, things were pretty quiet -- for now. But it wasn't to last. Outside, a very badly maintained vehicle was driving up the street towards Number 9, just as the resident of Number 10 was walking to his own house.

The owner of Number 10 was a retired public servant named Henry Cole, who lived alone in his meticulously tidy property and spent most of his days writing letters to the editor of the newspaper and making complaints to various organizations. Mr. Cole was not on the Christmas card list of the Hawkins family, nor were the Hawkins family on the Christmas card list of Mr. Cole.

Cornelius Hawkins in particular was a cause of stress to Mr. Cole, given the disruption and mayhem he caused in the otherwise quiet suburban street. And Cornelius was not appreciative of Mr. Cole's complaints about him to the local council and the police, such as one last week when he rang the cops to complain that Cornelius had been playing the same song -- a certain early 1960s one hit wonder about a bird that liked a water sport that originated in Hawaii -- at full volume on the stereo all day. So much so, that as Cornelius observed his enemy walking up the road oblivious to his presence, he decided to even the score.

Putting his foot on the accelerator, Cornelius sped forward then he pressed down on his horn as he drew level with his adversary. The loud beep caused Mr. Cole to jump about six feet in the air as Cornelius sped by, roaring at the elderly gentleman out of the window like a lion.

Cornelius laughed like a maniac as Mr. Cole flailed backwards in shock then shook his fist at him, pulling his car to a halt next to his wife's car, the gears screeching as Cornelius put his foot on the worn clutch to change down to second, the brakes also squealing as Cornelius slammed his feet down hard on the brake and clutch to stop the vehicle. It sat idling, the engine un-tuned for years and a muffler with a large hole in it, the exhaust pipe emitting copious amounts of carbon monoxide and other pollutants. Then came an almighty noise like a gunshot, as Cornelius's car back-fired which it often did, before Cornelius turned off the engine.

In the kitchen, Erica and Gavin had stopped studying and were helping Faye with dinner, chopping up some vegetables.

"So would you like to stay for dinner, Gavin?" Faye asked. "Your parents are still on their cruise, so I imagine it's probably a while since you have had a home-cooked meal."

Gavin nodded. "Yes, thank you Faye. Lisa and I aren't any good at cooking, so we've been eating takeaway and microwave dinners mostly." He then thought about Alistair, and how the patriarch of the Hawkins family was always glaring at him when Gavin stopped in for dinner like some polar bear who had found Gavin in his den. "That's if your husband doesn't mind..."

"Don't worry about Alistair, you know it's just his way," said Faye, cringing as she and the two teenagers heard all the commotion of Cornelius pulling in outside, then slamming car door closed. Erica wondered how her brother even got it to go sometimes. While she had her license, Erica didn't have a car and once had borrowed her brother's car to run an errand. She swore never again, as she got stuck in a major intersection trying to change gears, getting beeped and yelled at by angry drivers. She also pondered what chaos Cornelius would bring to the Hawkins family house tonight.

Her wait wasn't a long one. Soon, the tall, lanky, dark haired figure of Cornelius was inside the house, dressed in a filthy black tee-shirt that featured a terrifying image of the devil on it, equally dirty jeans and boots. He made a bee-line for the living room, where Danielle was lying and soon he was on top of her, the couple making out, Cornelius's right hand going to his wife's crotch, fondling her period pad through her leggings and her knickers.

"Erica, could you please go an ask Cornelius to come in here? I want to talk to him before your father gets home," Faye asked.

"Sure Mum," said Erica. She walked into the living room, where Danielle was lying with her legs wide apart showing off the shape of her maxi pad, Cornelius's attention firmly on her bare feet. Cornelius was fondling both of Danielle's feet in his hands, his face at her left foot kissing and licking her soles and arches, sucking her toes in his mouth.

Erica was not shocked, or even surprised. Cornelius made no secret of the fact that he was a foot fetishist, in fact he bragged about it and often made creepy and inappropriate comments about his wife's bare feet. This type of thing happened all the time in the house, and out in public too. The sexually shameless Danielle for her part would often over-share about the pleasurable effects that her husband's attention to her feet had upon her vagina.

As Erica stood awkwardly in the doorway, not knowing what to say, Danielle noticed her first and tapped her husband on the shoulder. "Um Cornelius," she said.

Cornelius sighed deeply and with great reluctance removed his face and hand's from Danielle's bare feet. He turned around regarding his sister with unblinking brown eyes that always made Erica feel ill at ease. Cornelius had the crazy eyes that was for sure. And it was appropriate because Cornelius was a complete basket case.

Cornelius spoke in a patronizing voice to his younger sister. "Erica, you know there's grown up people doing grown up things in here don't you? Why don't you go outside and play like a good little girl? Run along now."

Danielle's reply was friendlier than that of her husband. "Erica, is everything okay?"

"Cornelius, Mum wants to talk to you in the kitchen," said Erica.

Erica expected Cornelius to do or say something stupid or weird in response, but this time he went into the kitchen without complaint or comment, while Erica and Gavin made themselves scarce, not wanting to get involved.

"You wished to engage me in conversation this afternoon Mother?" he asked.

Faye looked at what her son was wearing and sighed. "How did the job interview go today, Cornelius?"

Erica and Gavin could over-hear the conversation in the kitchen. It was rare for Cornelius to even score a job interview, usually his effort was so poor in applying for the minimum number of jobs required to get unemployment benefits that his applications probably went straight into the bins of prospective employers.

Cornelius shrugged. "I don't think that they liked me all that much. Oh well, their loss not mine."

"And you don't think that the clothes you wore might have had something to do with it?" Faye indicated her son's offensive tee-shirt with the demonic image, knowing that the reason her slacker son had worn this shirt was to make sure his chances of getting the job were zero.

"I don't think I would have liked to have worked there anyway, they were boring," said Cornelius. "Jobs are boring -- I'm too creative for jobs."

"Cornelius, why did you waste your time and their time going to the interview if you didn't want the job anyway?" the exasperated Faye asked.

"The bureaucrats at the job center made me go," said Cornelius. "Anyway, I have a job. And I earn money."

"Cornelius, a couple of bookings a month as a party clown is not my idea of a job," said Faye. "And it is not your father's idea of a job either."

Cornelius did not reply, as the sound of another vehicle -- this one driven by Mr. Hawkins was heard in the driveway. The door to the garage opened and he drove in, and the way the car door slammed indicated that the patriarch of the family was in a foul mood tonight.

Cornelius's face brightened, his crazy eyes took on a gleam and he announced with delight, "Daddy's home!"

"Cornelius, I think it would be best that you make yourself scarce and don't talk to your father right now," said Faye.

"Don't talk to Dad, got it Mum," said Cornelius. He made his way out of the kitchen and to the messy bedroom he and Danielle shared, Faye knowing from the expression on her son's face that while he was doing as he was told for now, that he clearly was thinking up some new plans to annoy his father sooner rather than later.

Annoying Mr. Hawkins this evening however was not a difficult task. The tall, bearded, middle aged man entered the house from the garage in a terrible temper. Erica and Mrs. Hawkins knew it would be this way. Alistair was an engineer who specialized in lifts, and was the foreman of a team that serviced elevators all around Sydney, and one of the main contracts of the company Mr. Hawkins worked for was repairing and maintaining the lifts at high-rise public housing flats.

The flats had been built in the 1960s, when a major project in New South Wales was to purge inner suburbs such as Surry Hills and Redfern of their run down tenements and slum terrace houses, replacing them with high rise tower blocks. This had worked well enough in the early years, but now more than 30 years later many of these towers were plagued by drug use, social problems and maintenance issues. The lifts were always breaking down and getting vandalized, so the team was always going out there to fix this shit that the human shit that occupied these tax-payer funded dwellings fucked up.

Alistair Hawkins and his team had today been working at some public housing towers in Sydney's inner southern suburbs. In one of the lifts some filthy cunt had jerked themselves off, ejaculating all over the wall and spraying some of the semen over the lift buttons. A pool of vomit was in front of another lift which Mr. Hawkins and his men had to clear up, and other garbage and used syringes were tossed on the ground along with a puddle of piss in another. Worse, far worse in one of the other lifts somebody had not only taken a shit, but smeared their excrement all over the elevator walls.

When Mr. Hawkins was concentrating on his team getting their work done, some fat bitch with her spastic adult son drooling in his wheelchair and going 'blub-blub-blub' had come up to him and officiously asking how long it was going to take to fix the lifts. Mr. Hawkins felt like taking the fat land whale and the retard to the top of the towers and chucking them off so they would not be draining his tax dollars any more.

Seeing other types of people he hated throughout the day -- blacks, junkies and faggots -- made Mr. Hawkins angrier with each minute that passed. Even when the day's work finished with the elevators repaired and serviced -- until the worthless bludgers who lived at this shit heap broke or vandalized them again sooner rather than later -- the day didn't get any better.

Some fucking dickhead had caused an accident on the north-bound side of the Sydney Harbor Bridge, so Alistair Hawkins had to wait while it was cleared. Although Alistair had spectacular views of the Harbor and Opera House while he was stuck in banked up traffic on the bridge, being from Sydney he had seen them many times so they did not soothe his bad temper.

Even when the traffic was finally cleared and Mr. Hawkins was able to go on his way, his humor did not improve as he thought about going home to where his slacker son Cornelius and his son's dirty slut bitch of a wife Danielle were waiting for him. Alistair's mood darkened further as he pulled into the driveway and saw the pile of crap Cornelius drove around in.

Opening the garage door with the remote, Mr. Hawkins drove his four wheel drive inside alongside his wife's car and slammed out of the vehicle, storming inside with more slamming of doors. Entering through the garage door meant he did not encounter Danielle in the living room, and he made his way to the kitchen where his wife was working on dinner with one thing on his mind - beer.

Faye looked through the kitchen door to see her husband standing there with a face like a thunderstorm about to explode, and knew this would be the case. Every time he had to work at the housing commission flats it was always the same, and the busy traffic didn't help.

"Hi Alistair, I heard about the accident and traffic jam in the Harbor Bridge," said Faye. It wasn't worth asking how her husband's day was. Her husband had the demeanor of a water buffalo, clearly he had had a very bad day.

"Yeah, some fucking idiot fucked up," growled Alistair as he went to the fridge, not bothering to ask his wife how her own day was. "What's for my fucking dinner?"

Alistair could have seen what was for his dinner if he had looked, but not wanting to provoke the angry water buffalo that was going into the fridge looking for his beer Faye simply said, "Stew and vegetables."

With a beer in his hand and knowing he would soon be eating his favorite dinner -- Mr. Hawkins favorite meal was stew and he would eat it 365 days a year if he could -- Alistair relaxed a bit.

"Good," he said, taking his beer and heading for the small front lounge room, turning on the television and sinking into an armchair, watching the news and opening his can of beer, taking a mouthful of the cold frothy amber fluid.

Beer always helped Alistair relax -- well relax as much as possible with the antics of a crazy son like Cornelius -- and tonight was no different. When Alistair was diagnosed with a heart problem a few years earlier, his doctor advised him that he should drink less beer and undertake a pastime such as yoga or Pilates to help him relax. But asking Alistair to give up beer was like asking him to give up water, and the suggestion of doing Pilates or yoga -- activities that he disparaged as being for poofters -- just made him angrier and more stressed, so beer won out.

The sports segment was on the TV news, and there was a report on the upcoming Sydney Olympics for the year 2000, now just under two and a half years away. "Stupid fucking Olympics, all we'll get is more fucking foreigners in the fucking country and it will be a fucking financial disaster," growled the mean-spirited Alistair, taking another sip of his beer.

Alistair Hawkins was so absorbed in the television and drinking his beer that he did not notice that another person had entered the room, the tall lanky form of his son Cornelius. Cornelius walked quietly, sneaking up on his father while holding two objects in his hands. In his left hand was a pin, while in his right hand was a balloon.

The balloon was from one of the large supply that Cornelius had as part of his clown act, and was not inflated only with air, but water -- very cold water. Cornelius looked at his target, knowing full well that his father had heart problems. He also knew that the reaction of his bad-tempered and humorless Dad would be similar to that of a grizzly bear, a gorilla or a hippopotamus if one was to play the same prank upon one of these animals. All of this made the intended prank even funnier to Cornelius.

Waiting until his father had the beer can at his mouth and was taking a large gulp, Cornelius jumped forward, held the water balloon over his father's head and burst it with the pin.

BANG!

The water balloon exploded, showering Alistair with cold water. The loud explosion and sudden cold shower caused Alistair to leap out of his chair from shock while spraying beer everywhere, swallowing some of the lager the wrong way and causing him to cough and choke violently, his erratic heart rate going through the roof.