Rampaging roosters, p.1
Rampaging Roosters, page 1
RAMPAGING ROOSTERS
Book 2 in the Greek Meze Series
KATERINA NIKOLAS
RAMPAGING ROOSTERS
Copyright © 2018 Katerina Nikolas
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Many Thanks to Brenda for First Edits and to George for Edits
Cover based on an original sketch by Roy Brittan
Interior Formatting by The Book Khaleesi
Table of Contents
Other Books in the Greek Meze Series
Chapter 1
Back Seat Driver
Chapter 2
At Least ‘Ouse is still Standing
Chapter 3
Toppling the Ladder
Chapter 4
Bald Yannis Monetises his Goat
Chapter 5
Catfished
Chapter 6
Achilles Suffers Amnesia
Chapter 7
The Patter of Tiny Feet
Chapter 8
Business Booming Goodly
Chapter 9
Hattie Flags Down a Taxi
Chapter 10
Quivering Quentin
Chapter 11
Toothless Tasos’ Exorbitant Electric Bill
Chapter 12
Watch Your Fingers in the Fan
Chapter 13
The Arrest Warrant
Chapter 14
Dandruff and Handcuffs
Chapter 15
Stavroula’s Missing Rooster
Chapter 16
A Smug Pappas and a Gorgeous Death
Chapter 17
Crowded Out of the Taverna
Chapter 18
Nitsa’s Night in a Prison Cell
Chapter 19
The Pappas Goes Courting
Chapter 20
The Upside of Infidelity
Chapter 21
Protest Plots
Chapter 22
Strange Greek Customs
Chapter 23
The Prison Protest
Chapter 24
Nitsa Revels In Her Torture
Chapter 25
In Pursuit of a Generous Dowry
Chapter 26
The Parrot Parrots Some Home Truths
Chapter 27
Filthy Foreign Food Muck
Chapter 28
The Housekeeper
Chapter 29
Bald Yannis Talks Women
Chapter 30
Watermelon and Botox Weapons
Chapter 31
Stolen Breakfast
Chapter 32
High Spirits and a Goosing
Chapter 33
Bald Yannis Finds a Wife
Chapter 34
Buoyant Times for Botox
Chapter 35
The Mystery of the Knee-Length Underpants
Chapter 36
Oily Trees
Chapter 37
Spiked by a Prickly Pear
Chapter 38
Fotini is Rescued from Impalement
Chapter 39
Botoxed Old Crone
Chapter 40
Mid-Morning Kleftiko
Chapter 41
The Bride-To-Be
Chapter 42
Porridge and Unplucked Roosters
Chapter 43
What a Darling Bridesmaid
Chapter 44
The Weather is Sunny
Chapter 45
Mopping and Blushing
Chapter 46
Taverna Chat
Chapter 47
Is That Even Legal?
Chapter 48
Poached Lobsters
Chapter 49
Magnificent Physiques
Chapter 50
The Lobsterless Lobster Festival
Chapter 51
Rampaging Roosters
A Taster of the next Book in the Greek Meze Series: OLIVE VIRGINS
Other Books in the Greek Meze Series
Book 1: Goat In The Meze
Book 2: Rampaging Roosters
Book 3: Olive Virgins
Book 4: Goatly Goings On
Book 5: Greek Capers
Book 6: Float the Goat
Chapter 1
Back Seat Driver
“Slow down, these hair-pin bends are hazardous and you’ll likely get us all killed Quentin,” his mother Hattie shouted from the back seat.
Quentin slowed the car down to a ludicrous five kilometres an hour, sighing inwardly at the sight of the long tail back of cars he could see in the rear view mirror, with their Greek drivers gesticulating rudely at him for holding them up.
“Watch out for that goat,” Hattie instructed, spying a goat quite a distance away up a hill, minding its own business eating some olive cuttings. Hattie’s endless back seat driving was causing Quentin to curse the fact they had brought his bossy and over anxious mother all the way to Greece with them. It was the first time in her life she had ever left Idaho and the transition to foreign parts was sending his blood pressure haywire.
“Oh I don’t know,” Deirdre piped up; trying to lighten the mood “a bit of road-kill goat would be well received where we are heading.”
Her words cheered Quentin and the two shared fond smiles, recollecting how their previous encounter with a goat on this very road had led to their meeting with Adonis and their discovery of the new holiday home they were heading to now in Rapanaki. They couldn’t wait to see all the renovations Achilles the borrowed builder had made to the ‘Lemoni Spiti.’
“Oh no, I will kill that borrowed builder when I get my hands on him,” Quentin exclaimed several hours later when he pulled the car up outside the completely untouched ‘Lemoni Spiti.’
Chapter 2
At Least ‘Ouse is still Standing
“Yous will ‘ave to find him before yous can kill him and then yous will ‘ave to join the queue for murder ‘cos Stavroula is after ‘is blood too,” Adonis told Quentin as they stood in the still overgrown garden of the ‘Lemoni Spiti’ contemplating the lack of work carried out. A solitary shower curtain nailed up at a window was the only evidence Achilles the borrowed builder had ever been there.
“Finding Achilles is imperative,” Quentin said. “I have already wired him the money to be getting on with the renovations, thus ruling out getting an alternate builder in.”
“So, it’s okay for you to wire money to foreign builders, but when I wired some to my boyfriend Randolph you hit the roof and tried to have me declared senile,” Hattie stated indignantly.
“Mother, will you please accept once and for all your boyfriend Randolph does not actually exist. He was in all likelihood some spotty teenager preying on vulnerable old women from a Nigerian cubby hole equipped with a computer. How many times do we have to explain to you that the police over there are onto his ‘catfish’ scam and Randolph is not real,” Quentin retorted in exasperation.
“Now Quentin, don’t be so hard on mother,” Deirdre implored “you know she was lonely and was taken advantage of.”
Adonis was gabbling on his mobile phone, arranging for the Americans to once again stay in rooms above his cousin Yiota’s taverna. Adonis explained apologetically that his own hotel was about to overflow with Japanese tourists and he had no available rooms.
“Penelope’s skills with the new-fangled computer ‘ave kept us full up all season. As soon as we close I send her on a working ‘oliday to Athens to learn ‘ow to speak the Japanese language. Astakos is catchin’ on as a bigly place to visit from Japan an’ they no speaks Greek and they butchers the English,” said Adonis, demonstrating his mastery of butchered English.
“Come my friends, tonight we eat together at Yiota’s taverna an’ yous will catch up with all yous old friends in the village. The goodly thing is yous ‘ouse is still standing. Old Mr Antonopoulos from up in Katsiki ‘ad that new-fangled gas put in and ‘is ‘ouse was blown to smithereens.”
“How dreadful,” Deirdre commiserated, mentioning the name sounded familiar.’
“It would do Did-Rees,” Adonis agreed. “K-Went-In killed ‘is goat and we ate it. Old Mr Antonopoulos ‘ad a run of badly luck this year.”
Quentin peered cautiously over the neighbouring wall and seeing no sign of the old Mercedes taxi he voiced his regret at missing Fotini and Nitsa.
“They is out picking up unwilling passengers,” Adonis said “that Nitsa she not take no for an answer.”
Chapter 3
Toppling the Ladder
The old crone Fotini was having the time of her life since her second cousin Nitsa came to stay at her home in Rapanaki. With Nitsa’s wheels at her disposal Fotini was getting out far more than she had done in years. Creating havoc in the old Mercedes taxi they blatantly ignored the repeated threats of Pancratius the village policeman warning he would be forced to arrest them if they continued extorting exorbitant and illegal fares from unwilling passengers, because the taxi was unlicensed.<
They had made quite a killing over the tourist season, finding most of their unwilling and very nervous tourist passengers were happy to pay up simply to be released from the back seat where they were held to ransom by the central locking system. This kept their petrol costs down as they need not drive very far before their passengers demanded to be released, thus bumping up their profit margin nicely.
They were immune to Pancratius’ threats to have them arrested; convinced he was an utterly incompetent hypochondriac. He had miserably failed to solve the case of the intrusive pervert rapist who had broken into Fotini’s house and started a potentially lethal fire, and he had also failed to discover the identity of the elusive underwear thief. They played on his fears of a ruined reputation should he be responsible for having two old dears incarcerated in a noxious Greek prison cell.
Prosperous Pedros had informed the pair of old crones that Quentin and Deirdre were due to arrive back in the village with Quentin’s old mother in tow. Fotini and Nitsa were looking forward to making the acquaintance of Hattie, hoping she had a bit more spirit about her than her gormless son.
“I ‘opes she is not so attractive that she catches the eye of Bald Yannis,” said Nitsa, wary of any competition for the attentions of the man she had convinced herself was besotted with her.
“I thought yous ‘ad gone off ‘im since he lost ‘is terrible toupee,” Fotini said.
“It’s true ‘e is pretty ugly without ‘is ‘air, but yous ‘ave to admit Fotini that pickings round ‘ere is thin when it comes to admiring men. At least Bald Yannis is young enough to give me a good time. That old fool Vasilis is our age and look at the state of ‘im,” Nitsa declared.
“That’s ‘cos the mail order hussy wears ‘im out with Viagra, trying to get herself pregnant, an’ he’s thin as a rake from eating ‘er disgusting borscht,” Fotini said. “I is amazed he took ‘er back after the way she was carrying on with that smitten young doctor. Quick on that pedal,” she suddenly demanded, spying the chap from the electric company who was responsible for having her supply cut off, precariously balanced up a high ladder working on an electric pole.
With a nifty turn of the wheel Nitsa managed to topple the ladder, leaving the man from the electric company dangling dangerously from the pole. The two elderly ladies drove away cackling manically at what for them was an impossibly high speed of ten kilometres an hour.
Chapter 4
Bald Yannis Monetises his Goat
Quentin and Deirdre left Hattie lying down recuperating from the trauma of the hazardous mountain drive and took a stroll around the village to reacquaint themselves with the sights. They exchanged pleasantries with Evangelia from the beauty parlour and waved at Tall Thomas as he sped by in his mobile refrigerated fish van.
“That’s dried out nicely,” Quentin commented, thinking the van looked in passable shape considering it had survived two soakings through sea submerges.
“It is so good to be back in Greece, it really is beginning to feel like home,” Quentin mused, admiring the scenic beauty of the village and taking deep breaths of the gloriously citrus scented air.
“It is indeed. The village is just as delightfully charming as I remember, but a tad hotter,” Deirdre agreed, fanning herself desperately with Quentin’s quaint Greek fisherman’s hat.
Passing the hardware shop they were surprised to see a life-size cardboard cut-out of a goat dressed in a knitted two-piece pink number, comprising a little jacket and skirt. A sign invited customers to have their photo taken with the real goat for the bargain price of just two Euros. It also warned cameras and phones would be confiscated if people were caught in the act of taking illicit photos without the express permission of the goat’s owner and without paying the quoted fee.
“Only Bald Yannis would think up a scheming way to monetise his precious pet,” Deirdre observed.
“Oh I don’t know, I wouldn’t be surprised if the odious Pappas hasn’t got in on the act as well,” Quentin quipped. “I wonder if Bald Yannis is finding his goat scam quite lucrative.”
Bald Yannis was indeed hoping his scheme to monetise his darling pet goat Agapimeni would be extremely lucrative. He had been inspired by the recent arrival of two Japanese tourists in the village. After being separated during a mishap from the rest of their tour party they ended up on the wrong bus and arrived in Astakos looking very lost since the village did not feature in any of their copious notes of ‘must-see things to photograph in Greece’.
Their equanimity was somewhat restored following a frantic phone conversation with their tour guide who promised them they would be rescued from the backwater village in a matter of hours and in the meantime, they should make the best of this unprecedented situation by trying to amuse themselves without a guide list. The Japanese couple wandered around the village with perplexed looks, snapping pictures of the colourful fishing boats anchored in the harbour, the traditional stone houses with wooden shutters, Stavroula’s taverna cat Boukali basking in the sunshine, and the scowling Pappas in his black stovepipe hat.
They turned positively giddy at the sight of a burly bald man with a glaringly obvious and bad wispy hair transplant walking along the harbour front, dragging a goat kitted out in a pink knitted dress by a matching ribbon leash. Their cameras went into overdrive, attracting the attention of Bald Yannis who angrily denounced the invasion of his beloved pet goat’s privacy. The Japanese couple were immediately abjectly apologetic for what they perceived as some awfully insensitive cultural oversight; desperately trying to explain to Bald Yannis the sight of a goat wearing clothes was a novel phenomenon they had never experienced before.
Whipping out his wallet the Japanese gentleman offered to part with some cash to appease the irate Greek man and to pay for the unique opportunity of photographing his beautifully dressed goat. Never one to turn down the chance to earn some cash Bald Yannis agreed to let the couple pose with his pet goat, and for an additional sum he was even persuaded to pose with his darling goat too.
It was only several weeks later Bald Yannis discovered Agapimeni had become an Internet sensation on social media in Japan and had inspired a new wave of tourism which was about to hit the village. Thousands of Japanese tourists were planning to include Astakos in their foreign travel itineraries in a desperate quest to photograph his dressed up goat. Bald Yannis lost no time in commissioning a life sized cardboard cut-out of his goat so he would be ready to fully monetise this bizarre business opportunity.
With the arrival of the Japanese tourists imminent, Bald Yannis rushed over to the supermarket to ensure Mrs Kolokotronis was making speedy progress with her line of knitted clothes for goats.
Chapter 5
Catfished
Quentin and Deirdre joined Adonis for coffee in Stavroula’s taverna where they regaled him with the tale of Hattie’s unfortunate experience as the victim of a conniving ‘catfisher’. She had fallen for the scam of a seemingly handsome man claiming to be English, professing his love for her from distant African parts where he claimed he’d been sent on a top secret and dangerous mission by his government. Hattie was oblivious to Quentin and Deirdre’s concerns that the English grammar used by this supposedly English man was butchered far worse than that of their Greek friends,
“Randolph loved me, I inspired him to write poetry,” Hattie insisted.
“Mother I keep telling you he copied that poetry from the middle of Hallmark greetings cards.”
Every time Hattie’s relatives tried to explain Randolph did not exist beyond his personae as a fraudster Hattie would cry,
“Of course he exists, I have seen his photograph. He wants to marry me as this engagement ring proves?”
“Mother you paid for the ring yourself and you have never even met this malaka,” Quentin shouted, falling into typical Greek profanity. “You are being conned and you must stop sending money to this man.”
“But he only needs another few thousand dollars to bribe his way out of that hell hole of an African jail and then he will be on the next plane to Idaho,” Hattie claimed, refusing to accept the new love of her life was anything but the genuine article.
“Mother, this month it is the jail you need to bail him out of, last month you sent him money for his emergency life-saving surgery and before that you paid for his extended hotel stay as the country was supposedly quarantined with that non-existent Ebola scare. You must accept you are being scammed and the photograph you are drooling over is an old picture of Roger Moore lifted from a knitting pattern,” Quentin proclaimed.
