Monday, 14 March 2016

An erectile garden watering hose.

14th Mark 296 seaside melody from The bedside, from the telephone on the bedside table. Turn that off, stretch put the feets the floor and sit up.
 Bathroom, too, be slower, take a shower. Find clothing, pat the cat, she  want's € attention so much::

 Find the glasses, don the jacket and comb the hair. Time is running out, so leave the house for the deserted city centre alleyway.

Unconsciously walk the streets, there is noise of conversation again from the discount bakery. The manager is talking to his workers again.
The bus shelter is empty, no one there. But in a few minutes the bog cotton man turns up, and starts to smoke his cigarette.
A runner approaches, passes the Town gate. As he comes closer see that it is the neighbour from the house opposite, taking an early rum. A friendly greeting.
Hi Gurgle
He is not usually up at this hour. it is twenty to six in the morning. The smell of the bog-cotton mans cigarette is murder. Go upwind to avoid the smell of smoked clothes and exhaled tobacco smoke.

The bus comes and takes us to the station, a five stop journey.
At Yormas a slow service person panics at the crowd of people suddenly in from the busses just arrived.
Calls for help, and the bald headed man comes out of the kitchen, takes off hisplastic gloves (are they to protect his hands or to protect the food?).
The crowd melts, he has learned from Anastasia, who has not been here for some time.

The man called Hedgehog is not at his usual place under the television. This is showing advertising footage for a  patent hosepipe. As soon as the water is turned on it changes from a wrinkled tangle, a soft looking greeng package into a long, water-spouting hosepipe.
An erectile garden watering hose.
What next?

No comments: