The lady and the hedgehog

*

 

The lady - as she lowered herself onto the bench

The lady and the hedgehog

Judy and I were lying on the grass, rather idly, I confess. It was her idea, and not a bad one at all, which was to break municipal regulations and take a bottle of bubbly up to the park and, with Doritos and cream cheese, enjoy its crisp flavours.

 It was that park up there in the suburb, where no one seems to go- ornate iron railings, a large grassy triangle, separated from paths by long rows of crimson rose bushes. And a hot sun blessing all.

We`d enjoyed the wine and it was time, I thought, to observe the clouds, doze and be grateful.

Alas, my wish was to be denied.

Judy sat up emitting a thunderous burp.

"Jesus Judy!"

"Oh, get over yourself! When a girl`s gotta burp a burp`s gotta go!"

Then something caught her eye.

"Look!" 

"What?"

"On the bench."

"Oh," I said, "Which bench?" I really wasn't interested. And I was still unhappy about the burp.

"That one. There."

She pointed. I couldn't be bothered rising. That wine haze was just right for staying lying down.

"There's something on it."

"Oh," I said. I wasn`t going to sit up to just to see some random item on a bench.

"Hedgehog," said Judy.

"What?"

"A hedgehog."

"Hedgehog?"

"Hedgehog, for Chrissake."

Finally I sat up. "Oh. How did it get there?"

"Who knows," said Judy. "But it's definitely there. And it’s definitely a hedgehog." 

"Is it sleeping?"

"I don't know. It's gone into a ball."

Judy watched intently.

A lady came alone. Middle aged and very large in a flowery dress.

"Look," Judy said. "A lady."

The lady approached the bench. 

Then the lady began to lower herself onto the seat.

"Oh God," I said.

"Oh Christ," said Judy.

A loud hissing sound, a billowing dress.

"Oh my,"  cried Judy, rising to her feet. "There`s air coming out."

"What the fuck!"

"Oh God, oh God,"  said Judy. "She`s…she`s leaking!"

I stood up. I felt a sudden giddiness from the sun and the wine and the burp and the hedgehog and the lady. "We must do something."

"Yes, do something," shouted Judy. She had become quite frantic.

We rushed across. Already the lady had lost half her girth.

"O Jesus," exclaimed Judy.

The lady, face frozen, stammered, "I think I sat on something."

"You did, you can say that again," Judy replied, (and there was a slightly sarcastic note in her voice, which, between us, I found rather unnecessary). 

 "Hedgehog," I said.

"Oh my God oh God," stuttered the lady. "I’ll just be skin and bones," as the air seeped out steadily from a hole in  her rear. "Oh oh, call someone, will you? I'll need a patch. And a pump."

The lady was becoming very slim and floppy.

We stood there. Judy looked at the lady, then to me. "What…."

In moments the lady, a bag of bones in a summer dress. her expression, frozen.

Judy felt bad. She`d always thought of herself as the sort of person who knew exactly what to do in a crisis. "Can we do something?"

Judy bent down. A long cloth sack albeit with two flopping legs. Her shoes fell onto the ground with a sorry sound. 

"Are you still alive?"

"Patch me and pump me," gasped the lady. "Please." A faint hissing as more air escaped.

"There's a garage up the road. We can take you there," said Judy.

I took the legs and Judy carried the shoulders. 

The garage wasn't far. It was one of those little garages- space for one car and a yard full of discarded parts, the rusting body of an ancient Triumph and a bust up caravan, and an enormous pile of tires. And a man in blue overalls bent, buried in a car engine.

"Hey!" Said Judy.

He extracted himself- a big oil streaked face. He grinned, the saw the lady, her body sagging between us.

"Oh, her again. Put her over there." He gestured to the pile of tires. "I'll deal with it later."

"What?" asked Judy.

"Happens all the time," he said. "Don`t worry. I`ll patch her and pump her up. Come back at the end of the day. If you want. She`ll be good as new."

"Let me give you something," said Judy, fishing some bills from her pocket. "Will this cover it?" She held out a twenty.

"Nah, don't worry. Community service," said the nice mechanic.

*