“The Englishman’s Journal”
Ravin mad...
Such a nice term it is...
And me?
Alone and frugal...Ha.
Laugh off the day...dreary fuckin day..
Bought some fat cans o lager..., ready for anything...
My day? Nothing much really ‘ cept watchin’ some political bobbleheads choking on their own lies, runnin’ in circles like blind dogs, never really heard the true details of what that bill was about...
Parliament...
Thinkin’ of women and my lack therof, I have much trouble sleepin’, instead washing down peanuts with beer and curses, the stale smoke from me Nat sherman’s enwrapping me like mum’s hand knitted shawls. Keepin’ me brain warm. This is me late nite and then its blitzkrieged by morons...
Bollucks..
Quiet... all... until the shriek of rubber on asphalt...
Then the screams...
“ you f%&kin cunt!”
“God ^*%$ %#$@%!”
This is the exchange at this hour...Rather brawny.. Then I heard the engine rev on up to the highest RPM and then a sickening thud. I have heard this thud before. It pains the ears and rises bile to the throat. The kind of thud that actually involves velocity and the forcing of all air in ones being to be forced out into the night.
“She’s gonna feel that tamarraw... heh heh...”
The backspin of tires, the pointless “ya’ll right there?”, the pointless “no...”
During these quick and estranged moments I was force feeding the drinks, downing me cans and wipin me maw, preparing for my involvement. Now realize, she’s skidded in me yard! Cops will think I know them, even maybe involved and that cannot happen to me, upstanding citizen like myself, not tonite. I began to listen to the languid babbling for signs of what I would be dealing with. I make out that its a birthday gone south. All the boozing and pills have caught up with the two and when an attempted grope or the like went awry, the dame just dove out!
I see the day-glo necklaces lying in the street, every second their color fades. The electronic beat pulses from the auto. The evening is losing its battle, dying with the creeping morn. I hear her now begging for help. Confused and disoriented, she has lost her phone and her inebriated partner is telling her to get back in the car which she is refusing. Sobbing, screaming, kicking, lashing, the lover is now in a drug induced rage and tells her that she will never be with her again. “F$%# You!” The driver revs the engine and peels out leaving the disoriented damsel crying in me lawn. This I cannot have. No stumbly disoriented ravers babbling and screaming at all hours of the night around my doorstep. What will me neighbors think? I stand in awe after a last swig of courage and realize I must intervene. And even though drug addled lesbians are a dangerous lot, I had to react. I put on me robe, grabbed me 9mm and headed for the door. Oh yes, can’t forget the flashlight after listening to her scream and go on and on about searching for that bloody phone. If it wasn’t for that I’m sure she would have been long gone by now. Anything to speed this up. As I’m about to reveal myself, a car tearing ass around the corner pulls in front of me house agin! Bollucks... Hear we go with the bloody screamin’ agin... She slurs:
"I'm so out of it right now! Where is it----Oh my god!!!---why did you do this to me? Its my birthday! ahhhh!!!”
“Girl, get back in this car right now or I’m leaving you for good! In!!”
“Nooo! My phoone!”
Thats the main idea of the dialogue out me window in the wee hours of the morning. Slurred and whiney as drug fueled emotions can only allow. Crikey...I exit with some false bravado I found on the shelf and flash there dilated eyes like a cop... They silence and then the sobber begins to sob... hard... Some false confidence blooms, I got em now. I can search this scene like the detective I am... There must be a score around... Something to make me nite better than cheap lager and Sherman’s. I seach the curb and grassy edge, looking for a baggy or a pill, whatever I can find and use to advance and then maybe even scare off the situation... I find nothing along the road, yet they aren’t letting me get too close to the car. I still gots me hand on the gun... So now they quiver... My quiet and sinister demeanor has gotten the best of the drug fueled lassies. I feel like Bronson...
"What chal lookin far?
"Phone....(sniff)"
“Oh....Thats a tough find...”
"You got a light?"
"Yep... Yes I do..."
"Can we use it"
"I suppose..."
I keep my distance, ready for anything. I shine the light over that areas where the shadow is greatest and mosey down the street a bit. Once we are away from me domecile, I feel the sense of me own nakedness in me jammies, even with the 9mm...
I give up all at once after a side breeze exposes me for a moment. My winky caught a glimpse of them, I’m sure of it.
"Alright, I’m done. Im going back..."
“Please help us! (sobbing)”
“No thanks...that’s it...Please get out of here before the cops show...”
On the way back, I see the black phone in me yard. I toss it to the sobbing birthday girl and laugh...
“What a world it is that you can come screaming down the way ravin' and jumpin’ out of cars in me yard and lose sometin’ that you need, and I, awake in my haus, enjoyin’ my precious down time, end up helpin’ you find what you need to get on with your own shite. Luck would have it. Happy birthday.”
I shook me head all the way back to me haus and sat back down. I exhale as I let the 9mm fall to the table, slowly leaking its contents out the side. I chuckle and lean back after savoring a hit of the grey goose.... Fuckin ravers... I look at the clock, and smiling realize that now I don't even care. Realizing that I too have a place on this late night and I ponder that till morning, sweeping the sweat from me brow, a fat can of lager in hand.
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