The Morning Laughter
Trapped.
Stag night. Prank. Drink. Can’t remember.
Focus.
Breathe.
Think.
Floor wet. Sticky. Area smelly. Pungent.
Something coming.
In head.
Recollection?
Yes.
Toilet!
In toilet.
Public toilet. Outside. Abandoned. Not much used.
Dark. No light.
Phone.
In my pocket.
No signal.
But light.
Use it.
See door.
Move hands towards it.
Locked.
Look around.
No keys. Anywhere.
Panic.
Claustrophobia.
Think!
Remember.
Friends out. Big session. Drink. Lots of drink. No stripper. Disappointed.
Then saw Ken.
Been a while.
Not long enough.
“No hard feelings, mate?”
“None.” Smile on his face. But maybe not in eyes. Had too much to drink. Hard to focus. Can’t remember. “How is Dawn, by the way?”
“Great!”
We drink. Feel guilty. Less so as we drink more.
Group breaks up. Bar closes. Club won’t let us in. Taxis beckon. Kebabs eaten. Goodbyes come. Poetic handshakes and potential hangovers. Watch everyone leave.
Except Ken.
Feel his hand. On my back.
“Night’s young. Another drink.”
Slur yes.
He buys drink.
Tastes funny.
Drink anyway.
Blackness next.
Wake up here.
Floor wet.
Graffiti on wall.
Door locked.
Shout, “help.”
No reply.
Look up.
See something.
Attic?
Yes, attic. Where supplies are kept. But door to it open.
Wonder what’s up there.
Move to see.
Foot hits something.
Look down.
Scream.
Man dead. On floor. Blood-covered badge says, “caretaker.”
Laugh comes.
From above.
Look up.
Picture drops down.
Dawn and I.
My face crossed out. Violently. Deeply.
Second photo falls.
Old one.
One I know well.
Dawn and Ken.
Before the breakup.
Before me.
Guilt returns.
As figure drops.
To feet.
Landing in front of me.
Eyes meet mine.
Glowing red in the darkness.
Knife in hand.
Keys to toilet in other.
Ken speaks.
“Hello, groom.
“Guess what?”
I speak.
“What?”
He smiles.
“No wedding.”
Advances.
“The best man just won.”
Hmmm. You remember the movie Brassed Off, when the creaky out of tune brass band became finalists in a band competition by playing Staccato as a form of protest?
Staccato worked for them, didn’t work for me here. Sorry!
Comment by antongully — April 1, 2010 @ 1:00 am
Strange approach, but I got it.
Comment by Don Bagley — April 2, 2010 @ 6:59 pm
I really liked that writing style, it really seemed like what would go through my head in a situation like that.
Nice one.
Comment by Anon — May 29, 2010 @ 6:13 pm