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.
