It started to rain, so I dripped into The Eight Kings. The usual. Liquid-lunchers, afternoon boozers, the work-shy. The knock-off merchants, the old, the two-for-one crowd with the pushy pushchair. I could hear Snoyle laughing it up with the bookie boys behind me. They were playing at playing a game of cards. Far too often one … Continue reading The Definitive Slide.
The rabbit has to be put into the hat before it can be brought out. He had taken of late to dwelling a grotto at the brink of the town. And here, from this cavern, of a gloam and of a dawn, he beckoned and beat back the breakers that boomed on the beach. … Continue reading Wizard of Was.
An unfamiliar face appears from below the counter. I ask for cable. No longer than ten. You mean lead? Lead. Cable. Whatever. He turns and surveys the wall of cables hanging from hooks. Eventually, he points at a coil, says, these are good. Then he says, these are good, too. He reaches, unhooks and holds … Continue reading Ain’t No Shoeshine.
The day she won the National Exclamation Lottery - which was also her birthday - she decided, at once, that almost the first thing she would do was buy her old man the boat. She was generous like this. But, first, she had to go to work. So, she finished her second coffee, pocketed her … Continue reading Hejira.
There aren't so many pirates at the pirate party. Mostly, it's just people at a party. Wayne, though, who I haven't seen since Tommy, me and him spent that week in Cornwall, is stood at the window, staring at the sea. He has a blackjoke, plastic pirate patch over one eye. It has a skull … Continue reading The Pirate Party.
Had he never misplaced the mojo, he may, he reasoned one evening, have been able to keep a keener eye on his star. But, he sensed, it had fallen. He came to this late. Drew scant detail. Reason, as such, eluded. He dreamed a nearfuture pocket of his being patted. Mojo? He looked up in … Continue reading Dim Star, Mojito & Mojo Rising.