Friday, 11 June 2010

He Remembered Her Fondly

His tenacity would yield results, this is what he reminded himself. He walked. He was aware of his breathing, the rhythm of his breathing, the rhythm of his steps. His tenacity would fucking yield results.

So he had written her a wee poem. Fuck sake. Pathetic, man. Just totally ridiculous and pretentious and desperate. So he thought he was a fuckin poet did he? Jesus. What a fuckin asshole. A completely effete asshole. A frivolous bastard.

Caramelised biscuits. Her hair was like caramel. He wanted to smell her hair but she would never allow it she would never ever fucking allow it in this lifetime.

He wis getting guy scunnered with every cunt. Events seemed to be conspiring to agitate him. Too much noise. Hysteria and banality, the prevalence of these extremes. People and their inane fucking machinations, his friends even, his relatives even, he was just getting guy scunnered with every cunt, fuckin, it was just

Plunge pool. There had to be some sort of plunge. A drastic vault into the nomadic void. I mean he was going to run away somewhere. He had to remain tenacious, his tenacity would yield results. Tenacity would yield motherfucking results for this tenacious motherfucker. He would run away, with her. But she wouldn't fuckin ever go with him, never ever, no in this fuckin reality.

She wasn't there. She was never ever fuckin there where had she got to. A bottle of Tyskie please. Could Ah just get a bottle of Tyskie please.
Take a seat, I'll bring it over.
It was an Australian lassie, she wis new, he had never seen her before, never ever had he fuckin seen her before. Such things are we brought to, it being known as the gradual imbibing of the Polish lager. He looked around at nothing in particular. He wasn't sure where to look. He wis wasntin a whisky. Naw he wisnae.
He wis just mental about her but she wisnae here.
Where was she but? He remembered her fondly.

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