OPINION: It was cold, damn cold, and the rain was coming from the sky, the damn sky.
"You've written that before," my editor said.
"What are you, my boss?" I said.
His lips started moving as if he was talking but my ears had somewhere else to be. Some people have called them anti- semantic and I guess they would be right.
There were a lot of other things on my mind anyway and time was falling through my hands like teenage dignity.
Already the day was as grey as the faded fur of an old black cat and even a good watch wouldn't give you more than an hour of reading light left.
Not that I was worried about reading anything but faces and the lies they told and you could do that with your eyes closed if you didn't mind looking kinda funny.
Before I could figure out how funny, Mickey Two Shoes came into the room. He was wearing that cheap suit he had picked up in Bali, a marmalade grin and shoes, two of them, just like his name.
That punk owed me big time and these days you can't even let little things go by. I stepped out of the shadow of the coke machine and grabbed him by the thin wool- blend lapels of that bad suit.
"Where's my monkey, Mickey?" I said, as cool as the icy buildup freezers used to get before frost- free came in.
"What monkey?" he said. "I don't know about no monkey. I ain't never seen no monkey."
I couldn't decide what got my goat the most; that he was right or that the poor kid had obviously never been to a zoo.
Of course he didn't know about my monkey. I didn't even know about my monkey. Somehow my bad typing had moved across into my spoken words. It was embarrassing as hell but there was no way I was letting on to Mickey.
"All right Two Shoes, you're off the hook this time but next time I see you . . . ," I said as I watched him back away like a blob of melting butter.
It all made me feel quite hungry and it was time to go home anyway. I had two dames there and they'd be starting to whine about now. They liked their routine and I didn't like breaking it.
I walked to my car, got in and began to drive.
A cold, dark wet covered the road like old soup, which just made my stomach rumble louder, so I nearly didn't notice the tail I had picked up.
Some goon was sitting just inches off my bumper and trying to stare me down through my rear vision mirror.
Fear ripped through me like some bad salmonella flashback.
"Drive to the conditions," I yelled nervously. I had a no- claims bonus nearly seven years old and there was no way I was losing it to this dumb thug.
He must have known I had his number because he backed off and turned down a side street just metres from my beat-up old crib.
As I drove up my drive I saw the lights were on and some broad was standing there, silhouetted in the door frame.
I couldn't see her clearly but I imagined she was like all the women that came here: crazy blonde hair, deep blue eyes you could fish for trout in, if you were licensed, and a way of standing that made you feel you were late.
"You took your time," she said as I got out of the car. "Those cats of yours were going crazy."
"Were?" I said. She had a way with verbs that unnerved me more than disco music. "What did you do to them?"
She didn't answer me straight away. Gals like them never do. They get their kicks from keeping you guessing, as if life is some unending game of Eyespy.
"Listen here Sweetcheeks. No fooling around. What do you want and what have you done with my cats?"
"I ain't done nothing to no one. I just got home," she said, tapping her foot in a haughty manner you might expect from a piano teacher before saying: "You've been reading those damn detective books again haven't you?"
Whatever she was talking about it didn't make any sense and I didn't have the inclination to figure her out. She was going to have to learn the hard way.
"Look here, Blondey, it's time to take out the trash," I said, and before she knew what was happening it was done and I was standing at the side of the road next to a bulging black plastic bag.
It was cold, damn cold, and the rain was coming from the sky, the damn sky.
The whole thing sent a shiver up my spine.
I still had to bring the recycling out.
- Taranaki Daily News
"You've written that before," my editor said.
"What are you, my boss?" I said.
His lips started moving as if he was talking but my ears had somewhere else to be. Some people have called them anti- semantic and I guess they would be right.
There were a lot of other things on my mind anyway and time was falling through my hands like teenage dignity.
Already the day was as grey as the faded fur of an old black cat and even a good watch wouldn't give you more than an hour of reading light left.
Not that I was worried about reading anything but faces and the lies they told and you could do that with your eyes closed if you didn't mind looking kinda funny.
Before I could figure out how funny, Mickey Two Shoes came into the room. He was wearing that cheap suit he had picked up in Bali, a marmalade grin and shoes, two of them, just like his name.
That punk owed me big time and these days you can't even let little things go by. I stepped out of the shadow of the coke machine and grabbed him by the thin wool- blend lapels of that bad suit.
"Where's my monkey, Mickey?" I said, as cool as the icy buildup freezers used to get before frost- free came in.
"What monkey?" he said. "I don't know about no monkey. I ain't never seen no monkey."
I couldn't decide what got my goat the most; that he was right or that the poor kid had obviously never been to a zoo.
Of course he didn't know about my monkey. I didn't even know about my monkey. Somehow my bad typing had moved across into my spoken words. It was embarrassing as hell but there was no way I was letting on to Mickey.
"All right Two Shoes, you're off the hook this time but next time I see you . . . ," I said as I watched him back away like a blob of melting butter.
It all made me feel quite hungry and it was time to go home anyway. I had two dames there and they'd be starting to whine about now. They liked their routine and I didn't like breaking it.
I walked to my car, got in and began to drive.
A cold, dark wet covered the road like old soup, which just made my stomach rumble louder, so I nearly didn't notice the tail I had picked up.
Some goon was sitting just inches off my bumper and trying to stare me down through my rear vision mirror.
Fear ripped through me like some bad salmonella flashback.
"Drive to the conditions," I yelled nervously. I had a no- claims bonus nearly seven years old and there was no way I was losing it to this dumb thug.
He must have known I had his number because he backed off and turned down a side street just metres from my beat-up old crib.
As I drove up my drive I saw the lights were on and some broad was standing there, silhouetted in the door frame.
I couldn't see her clearly but I imagined she was like all the women that came here: crazy blonde hair, deep blue eyes you could fish for trout in, if you were licensed, and a way of standing that made you feel you were late.
"You took your time," she said as I got out of the car. "Those cats of yours were going crazy."
"Were?" I said. She had a way with verbs that unnerved me more than disco music. "What did you do to them?"
She didn't answer me straight away. Gals like them never do. They get their kicks from keeping you guessing, as if life is some unending game of Eyespy.
"Listen here Sweetcheeks. No fooling around. What do you want and what have you done with my cats?"
"I ain't done nothing to no one. I just got home," she said, tapping her foot in a haughty manner you might expect from a piano teacher before saying: "You've been reading those damn detective books again haven't you?"
Whatever she was talking about it didn't make any sense and I didn't have the inclination to figure her out. She was going to have to learn the hard way.
"Look here, Blondey, it's time to take out the trash," I said, and before she knew what was happening it was done and I was standing at the side of the road next to a bulging black plastic bag.
It was cold, damn cold, and the rain was coming from the sky, the damn sky.
The whole thing sent a shiver up my spine.
I still had to bring the recycling out.
- Taranaki Daily News
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