Strange Affairs, Ginger Hairs by Arthur Grimestead

Author:Arthur Grimestead
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
Published: 2019-03-17T16:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

Whatever I wish,

it smells of fish.

I’d never been a huge drinker. A few bottles of Newcastle Brown once taught me I could long-jump the length of a Ford Sierra; and then a kebab taught me I could vomit the length of three. This had warranted selective abstinence, but that night, like many other lonely, woeful people on the planet, my despairing moments were accompanied by a massive intake of alcohol. I staggered about town, hugging my bottle of cider like it was precious pornography. Incapacity kidded me into thinking a two litre bottle of White Strike had simply made me ‘merry’, and as such, I found myself kicking at the front door of a house. Before long, there was light, an open widow, and someone shouting from the house over the fence.

‘What business have you here?’ said a woman, the bedroom behind glowing a kind of brothely-pink.

I burped in her direction. ‘Business of the mind your own sort.’

‘I’m calling the police!’

‘No-one’s in,’ I said.

There was a pause, before she screamed at me: ‘That’s the shed you twat.’

I had wondered why someone had a ride-on mower in their front room. I pressed my face against the window. It was a very big shed, bigger than my bedsit. I considered this – I reckoned I could have lived happily in such a shed.

You see, unlike the streets/landfills I was accustomed to walking, I found myself in a place where dog shit was scooped and the street lights didn’t flicker. Had I not been intoxicated, I would have noticed a very large house next to the lawnmower shed, I would have noticed the Lexus in the drive, and I would have noticed the empty swimming pool I then fell into.

Failing that, I would have definitely noticed the ‘beware of dog’ sign, I would have noticed the growling, and I would have noticed the saliva strung fangs as I clambered up.

The dog bit me and I fell back in.

I screamed like a girl, clasping my hand tight to my chest. Intoxication numbed me a little, and as the pain subsided, so too my wails faded into the cold night air. I slumped in the swimming pool – the barking above me was incessant and the dog’s heavy breath created a mist that hung overhead. I simply sprawled over the bottom. Seconds became minutes became a smear of time. High up, the night sky was clear, glittering – I was sure I saw a shooting star. I made a wish, though alas, a kebab remained elusive.

‘Don’t move you little shit!’ A voice cut the air with a horrible shrill: ‘Don’t speak, and don’t think I won’t chop you up.’

My bleary eyes fixed on a half-naked girl – wielding a garden spade. Beside her, the dog growled, as if performing a duet.

‘Fancy the Lexus do you?’ she yelled, struggling to keep the towel covering her modesty. ‘Suzi likes chewing on testicles.’ The dog barked in reply. ‘And she’ll enjoy shitting you out in the neighbour’s flower bed.

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