Saturday, October 21, 2006
Bill's Butt Bar (Chapter II)
I pushed open the door, kept my hands in my pockets, and elbowed through to the bar.
The dive was like a ram's nightmare. I winked over the barman and pulled out a fiver.
"Drinks all round!" he yelled "On this twat!"
I grabbed two optics, smashed them and pinned his hands to the bar. Then I sucked the air out of two jars of cockles and slammed them over his eye-sockets. I chugged a quart of Bells down his cropped throat, pierced his adam's apple with my school compass and jammed in an Embassy Regal.
"Sure I gots a light," were the last words he heard. Now he sleeps with the sputniks.
The door marked 'Private' fell inwards and a man in a supermarket trolley rolled through. He looked me up and down from under his baseball cap as the dust and derma settled.
"Fux a monk, boys," he whistled, "Fux a monk on me. Iago Cocwyllt's back".