Blood all over the sand...
Adam looked at the bloody mess and thought hard, he had to act quickly, the lobster thingymebub was already snapping its incisors and beginning to climb up his legs, salivating like a mad dog or possibly even an Englishman! He remembered a move Bruce lee had done earlier and using all his chi he concentrated a fierce blow with his fist and deftly swiped the offending molluscular thingy aside. Miraculously his toe grew back good as new and his feet were now tethered in a brand new pair of Reebok Classics in grey suede. "Hey, c'est tres chic!" Adam suddenly thought in a language he didn't understand.
"Remember Adam!" Came a voice from the purply blue still waters and he looked at the ocean as a periscope descended beneath the glassyly still surface. The sand was alive with lobsterebubs snipping and snapping and waddling towards him. He was just psyching into his Bruce lee persona when the sound of children playing in the distance made him look over yonder and he saw an old red house. He began running to it. Fast! He'd never ran so fast in his life before and he was picking up speed, couldn't even feel the ground, legs a hazy blur! Realised his new Reebok trainers must have had a proffessional tune-up--no wonder pro athletes were so good; it's all to do with their shoes and clothes! He thought, feeling pleased with himself, insights like these had made him the man he was.
Before he could say kalimera, kalispera, kalinikta he'd reached the old wooden shack, it was painted a shimmering cheap-whore red and the walls stank of piss, beerand vomit . A man sat in a rocking chair outside the door, hat tilted over his face reflecting bright sunlight, acoustic guitar lying by his feet like a good dog. Sign above the door said, 'Chicken Shack', a rough painting of a partially nude, big breasted woman had been scrawled onto the door, the metal knocker shaped like an erect phallus, the bit on the door like a pair of tits, on the doorstep lay a used condom with a cigarette butt pressed into it. "I wonder what this place is?" said Adam scratching his balls instinctively, astuteness not being one of his strong points.
"If you ain't knowin' what this place is, then you is best not to go in there stranger!" Said rocking chair man.
"Uh why?" He said. Just then, a group of 3 guys suddenly appeared running towards him at the speed of air, they were all wearing Reeboks same as he. He shouted hi, but they didn't respond, waved his arms; nothing. They couldn't see him, somehow he wasn't visible to them. They were talking excitedly and he listened.
"I think we should have gone into the yellow submarine!" One was saying.
"I wouldn't have missed seeing that ganja plantation for the world!" Said another.
"What about that toad with the bad attitude?" Said the other one.
This sounded uncanny, as though these guys had experienced exactly what he had, but he couldn't communicate with them to find out more! "Damn'!"
"Well at least I think we're in the right place, get ready for a good time boys!" Said one of them.
"This had better be worth it! Said another.
"Things we have to go through for a good shag!" Said the other.
Adam watched them file through the door wooping with a certain macho joy. "God what should I do?" He asked his god tablariddim, "Should i go in there after them and get all serious and novelistically literate, or shall we let some lemming shock us back to moribund nonsense? Oh godess Banshee I wail to you for guidance, do I enter the house of ill repute and get ziggy widit or should a cowhelicopter suddenly begin to fly overhead raining strawberry milkshake and mooing like a person doing a bad impersonation of a cow. Do I go right or left? Oh past gods that I have worshipped, oh Wet1, oh BBC boy, Bowser Wowser PPPLLease give me a sign!" He implored the gods with a wish in his heart,
"What in heaven's name are you talking to boy?" Said rocking chair, "You been doin' that marijaroni shit?".
Adam looked at the bloody mess and thought hard, he had to act quickly, the lobster thingymebub was already snapping its incisors and beginning to climb up his legs, salivating like a mad dog or possibly even an Englishman! He remembered a move Bruce lee had done earlier and using all his chi he concentrated a fierce blow with his fist and deftly swiped the offending molluscular thingy aside. Miraculously his toe grew back good as new and his feet were now tethered in a brand new pair of Reebok Classics in grey suede. "Hey, c'est tres chic!" Adam suddenly thought in a language he didn't understand.
"Remember Adam!" Came a voice from the purply blue still waters and he looked at the ocean as a periscope descended beneath the glassyly still surface. The sand was alive with lobsterebubs snipping and snapping and waddling towards him. He was just psyching into his Bruce lee persona when the sound of children playing in the distance made him look over yonder and he saw an old red house. He began running to it. Fast! He'd never ran so fast in his life before and he was picking up speed, couldn't even feel the ground, legs a hazy blur! Realised his new Reebok trainers must have had a proffessional tune-up--no wonder pro athletes were so good; it's all to do with their shoes and clothes! He thought, feeling pleased with himself, insights like these had made him the man he was.
Before he could say kalimera, kalispera, kalinikta he'd reached the old wooden shack, it was painted a shimmering cheap-whore red and the walls stank of piss, beerand vomit . A man sat in a rocking chair outside the door, hat tilted over his face reflecting bright sunlight, acoustic guitar lying by his feet like a good dog. Sign above the door said, 'Chicken Shack', a rough painting of a partially nude, big breasted woman had been scrawled onto the door, the metal knocker shaped like an erect phallus, the bit on the door like a pair of tits, on the doorstep lay a used condom with a cigarette butt pressed into it. "I wonder what this place is?" said Adam scratching his balls instinctively, astuteness not being one of his strong points.
"If you ain't knowin' what this place is, then you is best not to go in there stranger!" Said rocking chair man.
"Uh why?" He said. Just then, a group of 3 guys suddenly appeared running towards him at the speed of air, they were all wearing Reeboks same as he. He shouted hi, but they didn't respond, waved his arms; nothing. They couldn't see him, somehow he wasn't visible to them. They were talking excitedly and he listened.
"I think we should have gone into the yellow submarine!" One was saying.
"I wouldn't have missed seeing that ganja plantation for the world!" Said another.
"What about that toad with the bad attitude?" Said the other one.
This sounded uncanny, as though these guys had experienced exactly what he had, but he couldn't communicate with them to find out more! "Damn'!"
"Well at least I think we're in the right place, get ready for a good time boys!" Said one of them.
"This had better be worth it! Said another.
"Things we have to go through for a good shag!" Said the other.
Adam watched them file through the door wooping with a certain macho joy. "God what should I do?" He asked his god tablariddim, "Should i go in there after them and get all serious and novelistically literate, or shall we let some lemming shock us back to moribund nonsense? Oh godess Banshee I wail to you for guidance, do I enter the house of ill repute and get ziggy widit or should a cowhelicopter suddenly begin to fly overhead raining strawberry milkshake and mooing like a person doing a bad impersonation of a cow. Do I go right or left? Oh past gods that I have worshipped, oh Wet1, oh BBC boy, Bowser Wowser PPPLLease give me a sign!" He implored the gods with a wish in his heart,
"What in heaven's name are you talking to boy?" Said rocking chair, "You been doin' that marijaroni shit?".
