The peaks of perversion are never going to be reached,
don’t worry, children love adventure, your neighbor too,
god calls for massage on Friday, the ocean is your only
escape, women cry rape, men listen, the aids industry
thrives, so does everyone around it, call the dealer, get
a packet, and fast, my nose is bleeding, so is my head,
so is your heart, everyone is dead, satisfied or do you
need to see a certificate, it’s in the manual sir,
blast!.. !. Harry rubbed his forehead, unable to cope
with the rush, his toes tingling, all the way across his
back, over his shoulders, till his head lifted off
almost, my god he thought, shuddering all over. The joint
quickly died. Stubbing it into the desk, he wondered
if he deserved the resurrection of a fresh one or what
was it that was on his mind so recently. The Palestinian
issue had been dealt with, god should have been in
politics, I hate that, god I’m getting old, we’re all
getting old, but harry was getting older quicker he felt,
as he was forgetting things, the bleddy coffee he sighed
..a bath..yahoo he screamed exhibiting a roar that would
terrorize a muslim. Yes, a baptism he thought, why not
both he laughed, thinking out loud, I’ll ban religion and
make it even more popular. You can’t have that. He began
to yawn all of a sudden, his mental state crumbling
apart. His eyes were opening closing, fluttering in
disarray. Rest, was the answer, a bath and he could have
it all, yes, warm foamy liquid, he’d relax, sleep
perhaps, no one ever drowned in a bath. Many were killed
in them though. On his feet, he wobbled over to the edge
of the tub, turning on the hot he winched slightly,
plenty of it he thought, adding some cold. It’d take five
minutes to reach drowning point, six inches deep. Damn it
he thought, just when he was getting organized, he’d
forgot the final ingredient to his afternoon caper, a
bath fellow as he called it, a slender joint, well
rolled, not hard, but robust enough to last the course,
yet loose enough to allow plenty of fresh air. If I was
Cuban I’d roll it on the thigh of a virgin and not get
arrested. The makings were on the table. The bedroom
would be warmer. You can do this he fumed, slapping
himself across the face, shit that hurt he thought, sober
a few moments, his mental determination as acute as a
hard on in a nudist colony. Harry was awake mentally.
He slapped himself hard again, it hurt even more, but it
Shook him even more.
Jesus, what’s going, every where he looked, a window was
open. He couldn’t decide, the best place to make the bath
joint. Going into the bedroom, he sat down on the side of
the bed, his head in his arms, head going down and down.
Will I or won’t I he thought, roll that joint.
“jesus christ” he yelled. He raced into the bathroom. His
heart thumping furiously. The bath water was half full,
the ship hadn’t sunk, and there was plenty of hot water
left. Shock woke him further. Five minutes later, he was
all calm again, lying in it, a smoking joint in one
hand, a glass of water in the other, Balance he thought,
perfect balance, like the perfect woman, just be he
Each sip of water was followed with a suck, till
all there was left was a butt. Flicking it accurately
into the toilet bowl he began to play with himself. His
manhood though, looked a wet shriveled mesh of hair and
flesh, there was no response. He twiddled with the water
instead, palming it playfully over his chest. He then
began immersing his head in and out of the water as
playfully as a dolphin. Fish he sighed, wondering what it
was like to be a fish these days, very disappointing. To
have your home turned into an international sewage
treatment plant, it’s happening locally, smell the air he
thought sucking it in, the open windows allowing for
endless waves of fuel injected air to enter his space,
lovely he thought, the sweet whiff of chemicals blended
with monoxides, good. But did it matter he wondered, the
water silent, harry still. It mattered to the him that
moment, water quality, getting worse everywhere, full of
shit. But they have tablets for that too he yawned. He
sat up all of a sudden, water cascading down his body,
least your not a fish otherwise, otherwise he smiled
thinking quietly, getting serious with himself. As ever
the phone intervened, like it was trying to disturb him.
Damn it, I’ll let it go, they’ll call back, everyone is
lonely, The phone kept on ringing though, annoying him
for a good two minutes. It was time to begin a personal
manicure. Two minutes and six dunks later his hair was
washed, and clean of all traces of sud. His hairdresser
recommended conditioner to him the last time he got his
hair trimmed. Now he had a predicament. Feel like a
woman, the bob Dylan song entered his head all of a
sudden. Not that he felt he needed to feel a woman, he’d
have felt the first one available anyway, but he felt
like a woman all the same.
He didn’t have that album in his collection he recalled,
he’d buy it for himself for christmas he promised once he
sorted out the problem starring him in the face,
shopping, choosing was shopping, if not shocking
sometimes. The array of bottles to the side of the bath,
she couldn’t need them all he thought, maybe she mixes
them he sighed shaking his head at the chemical
concoctions, all in very colorful bottles, herbal, ying
yang, normal, everyday use, coloured, must be for black
people, all conditioners, he read the labels, dry hair,
normal, greasy and super greasy to choose from. She must
have had lots of men friends, all bathers too. He
pondered the choices. Just like a woman, he knew what bob
His hair, obviously wasn’t dry, so that was out. Which
one did lainey recommend, but her hair had been dyed so
often he thought, she was a natural what. For a second
he was normal, just his hair. Squirting a creamy blob
into his hand, he began to massage it into his head.
Telesales agents, should be banned he howled, once he
heard the phone come alive, again. Not now he screamed,
I’m not doing interviews. For a moment he thought it
might be her. It stopped then rang again. Down and up,
his head was immersed in the water for a nanosecond.
Leaving a watery trail in his wake, he reached the phone
just as the caller gave up. They’ll ring back he sighed
with a shrug of the shoulders, always do. Out of the
bath, there was no point getting back in, condition or
not. Drying himself off, that was a bath he thought, as
if he’d never had one before.
“I bet he’s gone for a walk, he walks then writes, it’s
an inspiration thing!” she told herself. She’d have to
surprise him at home instead, they’d given her a raise
plus a promotion, just as harry said they would. She
wanted to thank him. Holding the phone in her hand,
she pondered. Was he worth it she thought, of course she
assured herself, smacking the phone down. Decision made,
she was going home early, to the man waiting for her!.
Dope makes you dopey he thought. Your thinking, so don’t
worry. He wondered if snow white and dopey, of the seven
dwarfs fame ever smoked. No, he Concluded, that was a
fairy tale, make belief. Besides a good looking woman
would have no time for a dude that only reached her
navel, unless he’d lots of money. Seated on the bed,
felt so comfortable too, but he couldn’t sleep, speech
he thought, speech, she likes me reading her stories in
bed and you like it too he thought, meaning himself. But
sleep, five minute power nap that’s all, his eyes
beginning to dictate to him, five minutes that’s all,
five harry, remember. Crumpling down on the bunch of
pillows, he hooked the loose covers over himself,
five minutes he promised. Should have done this sooner he
sighed, grabbing the duvet tight around him, five minutes
five minutes, have to write it, have to write he thought.
Fully asleep he was free to roam around his dreams
uncontested or disturbed. Grabbing and groping with
thoughts and revelations of every sort, he wandered and
wandered. Perhaps he was always on the verge of a nervous
breakdown. In the asylum, they’d consider that normal. He
shook in the bed, delving, going in and out of scene
after scene, seeking answers to issues that disturbed him
when awake. Millions of darkened bellies, all empty,
what an advertising nightmare for a food company, lots of
hungry people with no money to spend. Food parcels, He
smiled to himself, going further into his dream, they
were all alive, they were just dieting. They could always
ring the yellow pages and get a pizza home delivery. He
wondered if DHL delivered food apart from computer parts.
He muttered words, twisted in the bed. A towel that was
wrapped around his damp head, was now strewn on the
ground. Evil, must first get to know it intimately, he
smiled, smiled big. A Jesus truck had arrived with a
bread van inside it, did the feed the world trick,
without the need for personal appearance money.
Harry laughed, every story had to have a happy
ending. As for Noah, he was really a math professor who
couldn’t count beyond two. Harry laughed again, turning
in the bed as he did, still in a state.
She hit him full blast across the face, shattering the
glass dream he was in. He opened one eye, then the other.
The side of his face hurt, why so, he wasn’t sure. She
came into focus, the angry expression on her face was all
he saw. What time was it he thought, acting and looking
“you’ve been at it, you, jesus, can I ever trust
you!”. She wore a heavy scowl too.
Harry rubbed his face very firmly, from the forehead
down, feeling with his fingers, the crevices and sockets,
it was still there.
“jesus I’m alive, you wouldn’t believe what happened me”.
She lit a cigarette and sat down beside him, rubbing his
cheek with her free hand.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you!” she sighed.
“thanks!” he replied sitting up, sober with shock.
“twisting and turning, I thought you were on LSD
or something, what are you like, and no speech either
She passed him her cigarette, he tried his best to
explain. I was just bathing in future dreams he sighed.
A short story extract from a great story being written..
“the adventures of Father O’Che”
a week later…