the forlorn unicorn.......wednesday night in the isle of dogs

Published by captain haddock in the blog captain haddock's blog. Views: 87

There was a slight commotion at the street edge, where some of the angrier and less satisfied drones congregated in festering and spiteful hordes, spitting malice from their cosmetic smeared and cocktail spiced lips. The odd one would carry a look of despairing hatred, and the unjustified fury which they shouldered would manifest itself in:
-Get out of my way, bud
We were inside the off-licence, and safe for the moment. The security of sober humans and constant electrical lighting, coupled with the incongruous assurance of a clay-fashioned, gloss-finished black dog on the counter anchored us temporarily to the daylight world of broadsheet newspapers, and the necessity for milk, and umbrellas in the rain. A good morning, rather than a **** off. And seeing as I was not yet drunk, this situation was what I craved, for as long as possible. But it could not last.
-That’ll be thirty five, please.
Joe slowly extracted the notes, wrinkled and withered and perhaps hard-earned, and placed them down beside the bourbon. It was mysterious and twinkled black, and was ridicoulously over-sized for just three people.
-D’ya want a paper bag there
We did. The glimmer was sheathed and thrust, and there we were, three young lads all unhappy, all weird, all not having the singularest, foggiest notion as to which direction the cascading vessel of life should take us next, and none of us wanting to admit any of it. I said:
-We’d better go some side, like
And we were simultaneously reluctant to pierce the frail shell of comfort, and ensconce ourselves in what we were supposed to enjoy. As we were leaving, everything moved slower, and I noticed that there was a small bell which heralded our departure, and the tile mosaic proclaiming the proprietors surname in the doorway front. And then:
We were back into the great, broiling and swirling mass of human chaos, and drones were on the move, all around us. The street was narrow, and the patchwork buildings were high and unwieldy and a suffocating sense of claustrophobia surrounded us.
-What the **** do we do now
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