Thursday, May 22, 2008
visit from the neighbours
The first all-english champions league final brought my neighbours to the door. I'd never met them but had heard them banging and seen their fires in the yard. Two boys (late 20s) were dressed like overgrown schoolchildren, white short-sleeved shirts and grey trousers. They seemed to have taken their ties off and started to play 'knock n run'...except they were probably never wearing ties and they didn't run, just knocked and rang the bell until I got out of bed, grabbed a hoody and my keys and went downstairs. They said 'sorry' and then 'hello' and then, 'why weren't we out for the football', 'had we stayed in and eaten pizza, drank beer and watched a movie', 'footloose?' Eventually my housemate (who had accused one of them of being a heroin addict two weeks before) appeared at the top of stairs and shouted, 'it's five in the morning!' Oh my god, I had thought it was early but maybe 6:30ish so I politely told them that I had to work so I was going back to bed, one of them kissed my hand and I shut the door.
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yeees. the game's afoot here alright. only the other day i was sheltering in
a bombed-out classroom, trying desperately to keep warm, to keep my wits
together. come to think of it, i say 'bombed-out': there wasn't any obvious
bomb damage - no evidence at all, in fact - but by god there was a queer air
about the place - something obscene about the carpetting, or those bloody
pelmets... but that's of no matter: i was cold, tired, and at my wits end.
luckily i'd had the foresight to interrupt a colleague on my way over there
in order to borrow a lighter; and, remembering this with no small sense of
satisfaction, i quickly seized on the item, struck the wheel, and managed to
coax a small flame into life. what happened next - as later enquiries have
established - is rather unclear. i remember grubbing around on the floor,
searching desperately for anything that would 'catch'. i remember, too,
uncovering a stash of fuel - mostly consisting of substantial bundles of
paper, many of them bound in various colours, and daubed with offensive and
horrid writing. but whether i was attacked, or collapsed due to lack of
salary, i cannot say. but when i came round, amidst the roar of flames and
the collapsing ceiling, i knew they'd found me. something about the
intensity of the screams confirmed what i had long understood: that they
would not stop until i was done. so, i did as any man of a military bearing
would: i let the reactions built-up by ceaseless vigilance and training take
over, and i ran. i encountered several 'foe' in the corridors and gardens,
and many attempts made to grab me were successfully repelled. wild shouting
helped, as did speed, savagery, and a jolly good helping of good, honest
luck.
i live in the woods now. its safer here, surrounded as i am by my high and
silent friends. the nights are cold, and the loneliness long. but at least
i'm alive...
remember me, friend.
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