Rose petals fluttered down from a balcony, enveloping me in a cloud of red. Like I was in American Beauty. New faces behind the bar. No buddy prices anymore. For shame. A colleague wanted to order a Strawberry Dark Lee.
Walked from the first place to the other, stopping for a chorizo on the way. Garlic extravaganza. A police helicopter circling above. Felt like home.
Two beers in a place that played 80’s tunes. Two people working behind a bar that could have had six people working, easy. Waiting ten minutes in line for a beer. Yay. Mostly crap music, though Annie Lennox’s voice always brings a smile to my face. My legs decided it was a good idea to keep the beat on several occasions. Laughs ensued. Fingers pointed.
Talked for a while outside, in excellent company. Then rushing off to catch the last train. Half-way there The Stomach decided food was the only option. Stopped for food. Was joined again by the Excellent Company. Wowed a drunken young man (he was 23-ish. I’m old) by knowing the code to the bathroom.
They ree-he-heaaally don’t want you to use the urinal.
The code was 1337. My geekier…I mean more computer savvy friend pointed out it spells l33t. Me thinkest a geek worketh at McDonalds.
Took the night bus home. Turned out to be just another way to travel down the same tunnel. No excursions into territories unknown. No freak show galore. Sadly disappointed. The bus broke down. Waited for the next one, standing on a concrete pylon by a construction site.
Finally arrived. Had a nice walk from the bus stop home. At the train station, all the doors were locked, but the escalators were moving. For who? What ghosts haunt that place at night?
In the parking lot below, two people were setting their huge dogs after a hare. Coursing.
Tommy: What's coursing?
Turkish: Hare coursing. They set two lurchers - they're dogs, before you ask. On a hare. And the hare has to outrun the dogs.
Tommy: So, what if it doesn't?
Turkish: Well the big rabbit gets fucked, doesn't it.
Tommy:[pauses and thinks]Proper fucked?
Turkish: Yeah, Tommy. Before "Zee Germans" get there.
The hare didn’t get fucked. No Germans arrived. Yay for the hare.
The sky looked like mud sculpted by water. Dawn crept in, slowly. Mostly quiet. Fragments of a conversation carried across the school yard below our house. Nocturnal creatures moved through the undergrowth around the Rape Path.
In our yard, sounds from a porn film. Moaning. Groaning. No flickering lights in any window. Hope you enjoyed it, whoever you are.
Then inside. Water. Scribbled blog notes on a piece of paper. Barely legible. Went to bed. Content.
Oh yeah. There are goblins in Linda’s father’s house. Cool (beware, ‘tis in Swedish).
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