The Last Saxophone by Thos Judge

Author:Thos, Judge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thos Judge
Published: 2019-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15 Cry For Help

Music: I know You Got Soul – James Brown

“I told you last night we don’t want paraffins in the bar now fuck off will you mate.”

“But Lager Bob it’s me Tom Perignon the sax player from The Soul Fathers.”

“Out now. You want me to get you some help?”

“Fucks sake you old cunt it’s me, Tom. I’ve met with an accident.” An accident was the only word I could think of that fitted the circumstances. These people were not of an intellectual sophistication to understand.

“Boys.” Lager Bob called for help and in the back door piled ten Hell’s Angels who stood with arms folded across their chest.

“Your vocabulary is improving son. What’s fucking happened to you?” Lager Bob seemed to have experienced a sudden epiphany.

“I tried to explain last time.”

“Try me again, I think I was a bit stressed last time,” confessed Lager Bob.

So I sat down and went through the whole story again.

“[email protected]. How the fuck does that work?”

“It’s related to the average number of heartbeats in one day. It’s built into a genetic timer in my DNA.”

“And your partner in crime. Where is he?”

This was the bit I couldn’t explain.

“So he’s gone missing with his dog and your sax? You cunts trying to get out of the contract?”

I explained that this was something to do with either the casino fire, the escape from the psychiatric hospital, the stealing of a police helicopter, or Prof. #ELv15 and the murder of his deputy. Lager Bob was quite impressed by our catalogue of misdemeanours and even though he was a little unconvinced by some of them, he agreed to help us out.

He told me I needed to get rid of my priest’s cassock, as it was filthy and smelled of piss and burning oil. He found some Hell’s Angels clothing that fitted rather well considering I am so tall. I explained to him I couldn’t drive a car but had learned to ride a motorcycle and so he got me a loan of a Harley Davidson Fat Boy. I went and had a shower, got changed and went out and took a test ride along the sea front on the bike.

I was a little hungry and pulled into a little Italian restaurant that I had seen. I got off the bike and put it on its side stand, placed the green synthetic snakeskin helmet over the headlamp and put on my black hat and shades. I adjusted my black leather waistcoat and pulled my beard straight and strutted inside to order some pasta and pesto followed by ice-cream. Fortunately Lager Bob had given me a small impress to assist with any incidental expenditure such as fuel for the bike or pasta and pesto or beer.

The waitress came to take my order. Being very cool I didn’t look up from my menu but I did recognize the sweet Czech voice.

“Martina I thought you had,” I wasn’t allowed to finish.

She looked at me quizzically. Obviously she didn’t recognize me without my priestly attire.

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