The Adams are next.

I’ve been handling divorces for fifteen years and I boy can I spot a couple in the throes of despair, smell them like a rat smells rotted peelings in the trash, sniff sniff and I’m there, card ready after I do the ‘bump.’

Six months ago in Morrison’s I spotted the Adam’s, three of them, was four, now three. Snooped around a bit and found the son had high-tailed it to the Borders. Ignored the daughter, whiny, annoying so blocked her out. Mum and Dad, I search the eyes, and the eyes were cold, dead, battered over the head, fish dead, dead skimmed and deboned, ready for eating. Dead I tell you, dead.

Bump.

  Hello, I’m Tony, No 42 St. Mary’s close, their nodding donkeys back to me. Am I right in believing your not far from me.

Indeed, No.14 Tooting St. Nice area, remarks the husband. The pair nod like blanks in a gun. Their mine all mine, I’ll handle this divorce. The wife’ll leave, they always do. Men cheat,  wife’s leave.

   Me, Oh I’m a Solicitor, handle all sorts. I says, divorces, oh I know it’s always a shame, but they don’t need to be painful. Nah, i says as they lean in keen. Pride myself in being gentle, smoothing things over, I’m the UN of understanding. But I do other stuff as well, usual solicitor stuff, here’s my card, if ever you need me, you know wills and stuff. Oh how the raced for it, he got it first, but she’ll get her own back by calling early.   

            Got‘ um snared and rolled for the bagging.   

Listen

A five minute free-write. (vaguely unedited)  -    Listen

Listen, I’m not involved in this haired brained scheme, I just know the fella who’s like conjured it up. Listen, seriously now, cos I ain’t got long, gotta go to Boot’s get me mum’s prescription like, so if you go to the boozer say around eight big Jim will be propping up the bar, usually on the left side, cos he can see the TV and keep an eye on who’s coming in. Just in case, you know the score you look like the kinda guy that knows his way round. So like, as i say, listen right just listen, cos you really need to prick up those ears cos, like a lot of people, heavy people mind are gonna be counting on you, so you can’t mess it up, so like as I say, listen, cos Big Jim, right, he’s got a really quiet voice. 

The Unlucky Booties

God the nerve, the shear front. Displaying themselves, bang center, in Oxfam’s window. Smiling cute in pretense of fluffy innocence. At least they never can hide my screams of the dead-weight, scuffed down their sides. Its my fault really, gave them to the poor Winnfield’s, they were expecting only two weeks after me. I should’ve burned them when the notion raged. Rush in I tell myself, buy them back. But my soles rooted like concrete, with fingernails digging through my palms. Hands flash, the damn things are bagged and another couple are out the door.

 Slumped, I’ll await their return. 

Street Hassle

My little tribute to Lou Reed, an artists i've loved my whole life.


A) Waltzing Matilda

Waltzing Matilda whipped out her wallet
The sexy boy smiled in dismay
She took out four twenties 'cause she liked round figures
Everybody's queen for a day
Oh, babe, I'm on fire and you know I admire your -
- body why don't we slip away
Although I'm sure you're certain, it's a rarity me flirtin'
Sha-la-la-la, this way

Oh, sha-la-la-la-la, sha-la-la-la-la
Hey, baby, come on, let's slip away

Luscious and gorgeous, oh what a humpin' muscle
Call out the national guard
She creamed in her jeans as he picked up her knees
From off of the formica topped bar
And cascading slowly, he lifted her wholly
And boldly out of this world
And despite people's derision
Proved to be more than diversion
Sha-la-la-la, later on

And then sha-la-la-la-la, he entered her slowly
And showed her where he was coming from
And then sha-la-la-la-la, he made love to her gently
It was like she'd never ever come
And then sha-la-la-la-la, sha-la-la-la-la
When the sun rose and he made to leave
You know, sha-la-la-la-la, sha-la-la-la-la
Neither one regretted a thing


B) Street Hassle

Hey, that cunt's not breathing
I think she's had too much
Of something or other, hey, man, you know what I mean?
I don't mean to scare you
But you're the one who came here
And you're the one who's gotta take her when you leave
I'm not being smart
Or trying to be cold on my part
And I'm not gonna wear my heart on my sleeve
But you know people get all emotional
And sometimes, man, they just don't act rational you know,
They think they're just on TV

Sha-la-la-la, man
Why don't you just slip her away

You know, I'm glad that we met man
It really was nice talking
And I really wish that there was a little more time to speak
But you know it could be a hassle
Trying to explain this all to a police officer
About how it was that your old lady got herself stiffed
And it's not like we could help
But there wasn't nothing no one could do
And if there was, man, you know I would have been the first
But when someone turns that blue
Well, it's a universal truth
And then you just know that bitch will never fuck again
By the way, that's really some bad shit
That you came to our place with
But you ought to be more careful around the little girls
It's either the best or it's the worst
And since I don't have to choose
I guess I won't and I know this ain't no way to treat a guest
But why don't you grab your old lady by the feet
And just lay her out in the darkest street
And by morning, she's just another hit and run.
You know, some people got no choice
And they can never find a voice
To talk with that they can even call their own
So the first thing that they see
That allows them the right to be
Why they follow it, you know, it's called bad luck.


C) Slipaway

Well hey(man), that's just a lie,
It's a lie she tells her friends.
'cause the real song, the real song
Where she won't even admit to herself
The beatin' in her heart.
It's a song lots of people know.
It's a painful song
A little sad truth
But life full of sad songs
Penny for a wish
But wishin' won't make you a soldier.
With a pretty kiss for a pretty face
Can't have it's way
Y'know tramps like us, we were born to pay.

Love has gone away
And there's no one here now
And there's nothing left to say
But, oh, how I miss him, baby
Oh, baby, come on and slip away
Come on, baby, why don't you slip away

Love is gone away
Took the rings off my fingers
And there's nothing left to say
But, oh how, oh how I need him, baby
Come on, baby, I need you baby
Oh, please don't slip away
I need your loving so bad, babe
Please don't slip away

Zebus and Miriam.

Activity 2.2 OU - Zebus and Miriam

Like an endless carousel the photographs numbly revolved in Zebus’ hands, those faces, grinning awkwardly with fixed camera smiles that always seemed to take the genuine out of peoples expressions, Zebus thought it afflicted  the British more than others. I was one of them once; he shuddered, once forty odd years ago.

He recognised the church, it was the one at the top of his grandmothers’ street, a dowdy old thing, a brick work of crumbling sand constantly soaked with rain, it was a wonder that soft-shoe crabs hadn’t taken residents. The bell had fell through the roof, it’s replacements apparently an awful tape sounding cast through a tinny speaker. He remembered being dragged by his grandmother and those other old biddies, his arm red and sore Zebus surprised himself with a giggle at the reminder the photographs gave him.

‘What’s you laughing at? ’ Miriam asked, after swallowing some morning tea. 
Zebus leaned over to her, she was twenty years younger but at forty-three she still had her figure in shape. A man searches for years to find such a woman to have an understanding. She kept him from going insane, which he knew he surely would, sleeping night after night in such a large double bed alone.  

‘Well, stop staring at me like a hungry dog, will you. What you have in that post?’ Miriam tsked putting down her tea cup and folding her hands into her lap.

‘Family Miriam. Long forgotten wounds and faces. I’m jotting down a reply.’

‘Now I know you, straight forward and –‘

‘Nowt wrong in straight forward Miriam.’

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, for the umpteenth time ‘you’ she stabbed her finger ‘have no diplomatic nature. People don’t like such a thing. Let me see that reply.’

Zebus handed it over, ‘it’s just a first draft.’

She took the sheaf of paper and eyed him suspiciously ‘Mmm hm.’ she sounded through her closed lips.

‘What in the name. What a way to start a letter, and to family… God’s sake man. It’s your nephew’s wedding. They look beautiful, even if it’s raining.’

Zebus slurped his coffee and chewed some toast ‘well it’s true, that mother of his looks like death in a back-draft. Never seen her decent smile on her face ever.’

‘It’s raining that’ll be why, rain spoiling such a great day.’ Miriam eased up on the rocking of her chair and wiped crumbs off he piny.

‘Nah, zebus huffed ‘that woman, look at that face, like she’s got shit for a moustache. The girl Lizzy, ain’t good enough for her kin, that’s what’s going through the bints mind.’

‘Well…’ Miriam re-examined the wedding photographs, they all stood in line at the church doors, rain pouring with smile’s brave but telling. Inwardly she conceded old Zebus was right, what an upturned face his old sister has.    

    ‘See told ye, you know it to. Thank god I never had the money to go back home, imagine turning out like that lot. Beside wouldn’t have you to snuggle with when the desire takes, eh.’

‘They’re still your family you odd old dog. No matter how the years and the distance of water separates. Be nice, for once… and what you mean snuggles with me, you ain’t got that far mister.’

‘Whatdaya mean for once! I’m always nice.’ Zebus clunked his feet on the ground bringing the rockin’ chair to halt the porch shuddering.@and its about time we did get that far!'

‘They glad probably.’ Miriam laughed and struggled out of her seat, ‘you didn’t go back,' she headed for the kitchen in search of fresh iced water, 'you pain in the ass you.’    

The life history of Guillermo Brown

The church clock strikes eight, so those villagers who are awake know without checking that it is six. A cock crows. A body lies across the doorstep of the church, a line of crumb-carrying ants’ march across the fedora, there is a serene, momentary quiet after the chimes cease.

‘Agh, i don’t deserve this,’ Guillermo slobbered over himself, ‘a gutful of bad whiskey, these are not my sins i drown.’

He looked up as sweat dripped from his face and saw his daughter, Esmeralda, watching from behind wall. Her bike resting against her thigh. He felt her hopeful brown eyes wishing each breath was his last. My own daughter he said to himself, born only to kill me, stab my heart humiliate my pride.

‘I feel your eyes,’ words soundless fell from his dry cracked lips, ‘bore into me, demanding my instant death. Pah.’

Guillermo’s heart sheared within his chest, she’s no daughter to me, spite’s me at every turn, given herself to the boy of the man who ruined me. He spat in her direction, his hate long outweighed his love.

Two wheezes more and his body slid awkwardly down the white stones, he landed and his ass gave-out a last involuntary gasp of fumes and follow through, sitting in his own shit Guillermo died.

Esmeralda sniffed indignantly… So, she smiled, he died as he lived.

She got on her bike and glided over the cobbles, away from the crows and howling babies into the small ridge of mountains that shadowed the village.

‘He’s gone, and gone for good.’ She got of her bike and ran to Pedro, kissing his smooth cheek, squeezed her arms around him before placing her head side aways on his shoulder. ‘There’s no coming back for him now.’

            ‘Thank god that’s over with.’ He kissed Esmeralda’s brown hair as it warmed against his shoulder and held her tight. Around them the warming gecko’s began stretching and tail flicking as their blood heated, crickets began chirping, and the green from the scattered brush started glistening.

In Pedro’s lair, nuzzled in his sleeping bag; she circled with finger then tongue before tracing her own nipples around Pedro’s. They licked, kissed and bite each other before she climbed on top and finished the morning with a slow long fuck.  

The gas stove spurted on its dying fumes as Pedro made breakfast and Esmeralda boiled the black coffee, they eat and drank. The church bells echoed through the canyon, Pedro gulped as did Esmeralda, there was no more putting off the next step.

  Together they marched back into the village, which had gathered around Guillermo Brown. Esmeralda and Pedro heard the flies buzzing around the dead man’s underside, the whirling faces of villagers turned to them, a vortex of contorted gums and slanted eyes against the burning sun smiled at the couple.

            ‘He should be buried next to your father Pedro’ said the sheriff ‘so it can be a lesson to future generations that love only conquers all, when its enemies are dead.’