Sunday, 3 June 2012

At the house with the sign on the gate that says ‘My Doberman lives here’

At the house with sign on the gate that says ‘My doberman lives here’ above a picture of a doberman’s head and a hand holding a torch, I stood on a snail as a helicopter flew over. On the window sill with the dead moths there was a money tree plant, a single white sock, a dusty snooker trophy and a TDK D90 audio cassette—still in its packaging. When I knocked at the door a man with tattoo sleeves answered and said “It’s awkward when you can’t see your own writing” as he filled in his signature.

I was about to get back into my van after failing to deliver a parcel when I noticed people at home at the house next door. I went to ask whether they’d take the parcel for their neighbour and a young man in a vest and jogging pants answered. He agreed to take the parcel and said “Are they trainers?” I said I didn’t know. “I might try them on” he said, winking, then he put his hand down the front of his trousers, adjusted his cock and shut the door.

I found an onion ring in the back of my van. I don’t know how it got there.

I overheard two men talking on the bus:
“Have you ever murdered anyone, Carl?”
“No, I haven’t, Jim.”
“No, me neither.”

A snail crawled up my kitchen window on the morning of the diamond jubilee of HRH Queen Elizabeth ll.