I first met Morgan in a bar in Berlin in 1926. He had a cocky stride about him, almost as if he knew what was destined for him. After discussing the world's booming economy compared to Germany's pathetic excuse for post-war fiscal management we took a walk along the streets of what would one day become the site of the Berlin wall. The treaty had raped the men and women of Germany (ass raped the men) and someone was soon to take a stand. As Morgan told me about the oncoming of what was soon to be the depression I was concerned for the already weak economy of my country. We hit the strip clubs of East Berlin that night (may I clarify that the strip clubs in 1926 were quite toned down in comparison to today's standards). After watching bulky men prance around in women's clothes for what must have been 3 or 4 hours, we stumbled out on to the streets, penniless and drunk and/ or stoned. The rest of the night is quite hazy but I recall a vicious bout of fisticuffs. Angry, beaten and sore, we headed our separate ways. I believe the fight had something to do with America's interference in WWI but I cannot be sure. It was not until approximately 27 and a half minutes later when I stumbled onto a busy street in my inebriated state that I saw Morgan again. He had seen me fall onto the road and must have been quite inebriated also, as instead of pushing me out of the way of the oncoming car; he attempted to push the car off course. His pathetic tackle of the car reminded me of the below-par fashion in which Americans tackle each other in their 'football'. However, to my surprise his tackle worked. Oh no, he was not strong enough to change the direction of the car's motion, but rather scare the driver (well, as you could imagine, a full grown man leaping towards your moving car, inadvertently head butting the driver's window would cause quite a shock to just about anyone). The driver suffered a heart-attack and his teenage son in the back seat began to cry. What happened to the days when men were men? More to the point, these loud noises awoke me from my seemingly unconscious state and I leapt to the side as the car approached. Now I had the job of tending to Morgan's wounds. I don't recall the remainder of the night as I was so glad to avoid the car that I finished the Russian vodka I had kept from Morgan earlier (perhaps that is what we had fought about after all). The next morning (or probably afternoon) we awoke in adjacent hospital beds. Morgan filled me in as to what had happened the remainder of the previous night. I would share this information with you but his stories tend to drag on and have no real point. After an awkward silence that lasted maybe four or five seconds, Morgan turned to look me in the eyes for the first time since we'd engaged in fisticuffs. "Would you like some gin?" he said in a soft voice. "Morgan, that's milk. And besides, I have my own milk" After laughing for perhaps 30 or so seconds Morgan said "I love you". This was quite possibly the most intensely awkward and creepy moment of my life. I turned away and watched the nurses pass by our room. When I turned back Morgan was standing at the foot of his bed with a bottle of whiskey. "Why in the name of Christ are you drinking? And more to the point, how did you get hard liquor into a hospital?" I asked. I'd tell you the answer to those questions if I could remember them. That afternoon seems a blur when I reflect upon it these days. Perhaps we had not learned from our respective near-death experiences. As we drank for the next hour or so, Morgan came up with an escape plan. I could have simply pointed out that we were free to leave anytime since this was a hospital, but the moment had captured my imagination. That was my first mistake. The remainder of the day I cannot recall but by the end of the day we were in a cheap motel in Prague. The food was below average and the hospitality was worse. Luckily Morgan had American money and a gun. The newspaper the following day had an article about a nurse and a doctor that had been murdered in Berlin, as well as three policemen just outside of a hospital. When I asked Morgan how we got to Prague I was shocked at his reply. He went on to tell me that he was drinking apple cider while I was drinking whiskey. His escape plan was indeed necessary as it turned out since he had been arrested the previous night and was to be transferred to police custody once he had recovered from his head injuries. Apparently he had shot a nurse and a doctor who were in his path out of the hospital and the three policemen were supposedly waiting for him outside. As for me, he told me that I would've had to have been drunk in order to do something so 'ballsy', as he put it. Perhaps I should have realized something was wrong when I awoke in the passenger seat of a police car that Morgan was driving at upwards of 100 mph. But I didn't bother to ask so soon as I was still fairly sleepy and still quite disturbed from the awkward conversation we had shared the previous day. We remained at the motel for at least a week, Morgan paying the owners more on the third day since they cottoned on to who we were. On perhaps the eighth day Morgan and I had a quiet night in, playing poker with a few hookers Morgan had driven into town to find. Suddenly we heard the distant sound of police sirens. Maybe we shouldn't have kept the police car we stole all those days ago in Berlin. We waited anxiously for the sirens to continue pass the motel. Unfortunately we had been found. Naturally, we used the hookers and the motel owners as hostages, but I believed it to be hopeless. Luckily, I had once again underestimated my friend, Morgan. He shot one of the hookers and threw her body out the window to where the police had positioned themselves. He then gave clear instructions to a second hooker, to go out to the police and tell them his orders. Seeing Morgan show mercy by letting her live was the first time I realized he was perfect. I worried that I may never get the chance to tell him this, but once again I had underestimated him, because suddenly the police drove away. Morgan had excellent negotiation skills. Apparently he had ordered the hooker to tell the police that for every minute they remained he'd kill another hostage. When I complimented him on this stroke of brilliance, he told me that I would have been his last hostage if need be. But I think this was just his way of saying that he cared for me more than all the hookers in the world. Only a further two people were killed that night. Morgan pulled a couple over whilst in the police car we had stolen. After they rudely refused to trade cars, Morgan shot them and stole their car. He then informed me that he planned to seek refuge in Sweden. There was a problem. There are only two paths to Sweden from Prague; through Germany and through Russia. Both these paths were dangerous routes because of our 'wanted' status in Germany and (as Morgan put it) the fact that all Russians are dirty, violent and untrustworthy commies. It was a shame we could not board a train. Morgan told me that being wanted men; we'd most probably be recognised at a train station and soon arrested. But I think this was just his way of telling me that he liked a challenge. On our way through Germany ("why would anyone pass through Russia?" he'd said), we encountered only one instance with the police. This had occurred in Hamburg, the last major city before Denmark (we had travelled through Poland before heading due West into Germany's North). Although the police were the ones who found us, I'm sure Morgan had allowed this to happen because our escape was becoming somewhat boring and routine. It was only one police car that found us. To their surprise (and mine) Morgan had pulled over instantly when they sounded the police sirens. He stepped out of the car by himself, throwing his gun to me before he did so. He began walking towards their car, arms raised, and as I sat their shaking, I suddenly understood what I had to do. I leapt to the driver's seat and began to drive off. I could not see what was happening behind me, but I heard the screech of tyres and one single gun shot. I could not restrain myself. I turned back. Just as I did so I saw Morgan shoot the second cop in the police car as he drove past him. I quickly turned the car around and drove back to see Morgan standing perfectly still in the middle of the road. I had underestimated him again. The policeman who had remained in the patrol car had panicked when I began driving and taken off after me. Just as his fellow policeman instinctively turned around, Morgan had pulled a concealed gun from his back pocket and shot him in the back of the head. The policeman remaining in the car never stood a chance. This was the second time I realized Morgan was perfect. He opened the driver's door and I moved across to the passenger's seat. We had made it. By nightfall we'd be in Sweden, ready to start over. I said to him, "I love you, too" and he just kept right on driving. THE END
The best songs
Thrash Metal: Dark Angel - Darkness Descends
Metal: Lamb of God - Laid to Rest
Hard Rock: Deftones - Be Quiet And Drive
60's Punk: MC5 - Kick Out The Jams
70's Punk: The Clash - White Riot
80's Punk: Descendents - Silly Girl
New Punk: Sum 41 - Fat Lip
Folk: Martin Sexton - Diner
Pop: Bright Eyes - If Winter Ends
Cat Stevens - Father And Son
Justin Timberlake - What Goes Around
Rock: Angels And Airwaves - The Adventure
Stadium Rock: Styx - Come Sail Away
Pop/ Rock: Bloc Party - Pioneers
Rap: Eminem - Stan
Hip-Hop: Outcast - Hey Ya
Christmas: Bright Eyes - Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas
Best Song Ever: The Strokes - Reptilia
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