Teletubbies has died:I've got something sticky in my boot.
Perhaps it is the chewing gum I lost.
I told the barkeep not to let me have anything other than gymsocks.
"bollocks" he said unto me.
"sweet potato Gin then", I replied.
He looked at me quite strangely.
"what is the matter, old friend?" I Asked.
He went into a frenzy, as he tried hard to make me understand that I was not his friend, or at least that he was not My friend.
"hey,buddy!" he said at last.
"I am not."was my reply. "if I was, then why can't you give me the molded weasel in your hand?"
"there is no such sillyness in my hand", he said with a confused look upon his face.
"hang on", I said.
I started feeling through my pockets.
The bouncer approached me, looking sinister.
"and what is going on here?" he asked, seeming quite uninterested in my reply. He knew perfectly well what was going on.
"FOOL!" was my immediate response.
They both backed away from me.
It appeared to be the case, that I, the lone wanderer, found myself in a tight spot.
These two chubby men gave not a single sound.
There were about ten other people in the pub. They were all silent. Looking at me. Staring. I started wondering why. So, I asked.
"why are you looking at me?" And at that moment, if they could, they would go even more silent than they had been already.
I started hearing christmas carrols inside my head.
A guy that had been looking over my shoulder the entire time, pricked me on my shoulder.
"What!" I bursted out.
"As I see it, there is no coherence in your story whatsoever."
I was shocked at such indecency.
"What do you mean?" I said.
"Well," he started.
"why do you invent drinks to ask the bartender for that you certainly know doesn't exist?"Sweet Potato Gin?! And the frenzy! What Is that? A barkeep would NEVER go into a FRENZY over you calling him your friend! Goddammit! Are you stupid or something? And. WhaT IS a molded weasel? Do you even know what it is yourself? And then you have the incoherent part with the feeling through your pocket! What are you supposed to be looking fo? A weapon of some sort? Well, how Original!"
He made brackets with his two fingers, both hands.
The christmas carrol continued playing inside my head as I took the bloody razor out of my pocket. In the other hand I held what had put a sock in the mouth of the entire bar: A luminescent, evil-looking teddybear made from the skin and brain-tissue of twenty-two taiwanese child labourers. It had a patch in the neck, stating that it was made from twenty-two not-so-hard-working-anymore, yet not exactly liberated taiwanese child-labourers.
I went back out of my grotesquity-chamber.
I realized I was sitting in a squatted house in Oxford in the middle of summer, listening in on a conversation revolving around bacteriae and marriage, coming from the first floor-rooms somewhere. My eyes started feeling cold, as I had had them opened for a longer period of time...
..
