The anxious sky pondered disapprovingly upon this sulky night. It was a night much like the previous two, and Byron would have loved it.
Inside the hazy, smoke filled bar, a round of acquaintances posed knowing poses; few secrets remaining. They had become ensnared by the bonds of respectability, which had formed insidiously over their many years of indifference.
"I mean it's ludicrous to imagine that we are the sole inhabitants of this vast universe..." ran the conversation, according to Lincoln, a generally mild characters in his (very) late twenties; and weird with it. "Cockles, Mussels... ?",the starry eyed vendor in the white coat feigned appreciation, like a leper with a knighthood in his ancestry might. "You got crabs ?" came the daringly unwitty reply from an unidentifiable corner.
Outside the drizzle had abated, long enough for a cross terrier to express its' disgust of red Porches,and the owners ultimate bad taste to have
TRACY & GAV stickers applied. But no sign of the red fluffy dice, perhaps next Friday. Nearby in the spew spattered doorway of the Vindaloo Expresso restaurant, a fat man with a poorly expressed limp sang frail melodies of yesteryear - into an empty milk carton. "O.K. then you think about it for a moment.." continued Lincoln, "If God's so bloody smart, how come you can't buy a left handed screwdriver, Ha,Ha,Ha" It is a well known fact that only a bad comedian laughs at his own jokes. Lincoln was apparently blissfully unaware of this. "Tis a far better thing I do now..." thought Spike as he slowly emptied
the remaining half pint over Lincolns' head.
The next morning was fine.
Lincoln awoke uneasy after restless dreams in which giant mammeries attacked and bruised him. "Odd" he muttered. "Not -really" said the
narrator. The clock said twenty past something. Time for a cup of coffee he thought.-The T.V. crackled its' white noise as Lincoln opened the
living room door, and a body large and obvious balanced precariously on an ill fitting studio couch. Soon the harsh smell of Coffee and Bacon intertwined,filled the room; and the body on the couch stirred.
"Morning !" trilled Lincoln. "Uugh..." replied the hulk, rising from the much abused couch and snatching its' groin.
As night follows day surely the Cockle man returns, and Crab sticks will change hands at a rate no mortal can express.
Tonight the pub lay empty, now I don't mean sparse or quiet, 1 mean EMPTY ! Lights flickered on dejected bandits, and barmaids eat crisps
and bitched. Not unearthly 1 grant you, but reasonably odd as things go. It was Saturday night and the tinsel lights glimmered and beckoned
downtown, as through deserted streets only crisp packets drifted. Carters' eyes glistened with averace,as he put the finishing touches to his latest work of fiction - a cash flow analysis., "No-one, not even Boyd's' of London would be able to resist it. What a brilliantly amazing scam!"
Trudy chose this moment to walk in, breaking a fine 2H pencil under foot. "Oh, you idiot!" fumed Carter.