It was the unwelcome sound of squealing tyres that penetrated my alcohol-induced slumber that dull grey day in January. Forcefully dragging me from the safe warm unknown yet tantalizingly familiar place I dreamed of often and always after a heart to heart with a good bottle of single malt whisky. Either some poor sap was late for work or he’d fallen asleep where he shouldn’t have. Either way; h...e was in a bloody hurry and was the sole reason I was blindly fumbling for my cancer sticks via the travel clock beside my bed. I could have happily throttled the selfish bastard with my bare hands!
10:58. O.k. So it was a little later than I’d thought, but then it had been a very late night and everyone, me included, is entitled to a lay-in once in a while, it’s what makes Britain great! I closed my eyes against the cold grey glare of the day and shook out a cigarette onto my bedside cabinet, retrieved it, mouthed it and lit it all without re-opening my eyes or moving my head from the pillow. That could wait a bit longer. I took a long drag on the cigarette, inhaled deeply and immediately fell into a violent seemingly endless coughing fit that soon began to feel like it was gonna turn out to be the cough that would carry me off, the son of a bastard just didn’t seem to want to call it quits so I heaved myself off my pillow throwing my legs out of my bed kicking over an empty discarded bottle of Chivas Regal on the floor. I sat hunched forward willing the cough to stop, trying to hold my breath, eyes streaming, chest raw, but after a short while the spasm finally began to abate. I would live it seemed! No nice little trip with the grim reaper that day. Things were looking up!
So that was my regular morning routine done with, another day another dollar I thought miserably. I was just about ready for the second drag on my cancer stick, I believed my lungs might have stopped bleeding and my heart had slowed to somewhere near to it's usual rate, so I went for it and this time it felt ok. My head thumped but at least my lungs had decided to stay inside my body for a while longer. I sat awhile smoking and gathering my thoughts, replaying in my mind the regrettable events of the day before which had led to my good self getting a sound kicking from assailants unknown in the dark of night outside a seedy dive that I’d been led to, which was either directly related to the current case I’d been working on which had been leading in ever decreasing circles, or just been a really bad case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, which of late seemed to have become a bit of a bad habit of mine – among others. My ribs ached like hell and my face felt two sizes too small. I tentatively explored it like a blind man who’d forgotten what he looked like and had concerns he may look like Wayne Rooney. I tentatively prodded my swollen left cheek a little too vigorously unwittingly unleashing an explosion of pain both intense and shocking, ‘Aaaargh… Fuck’s sake!’ I spat angrily, it had hurt like a bloody bastard and my eyes watered even more, I sure wouldn’t be doing that again any time soon! At least my right hand was tender and the knuckles grazed indicating I’d managed to get at least one good one in before succumbing to the flurry of punches and kicks that had rained on yours truly like an avalanche! Small comfort I suppose, but then small comfort is better than none. I flexed my hand and made a fist. Yeah it was tender all right. A half smile danced briefly across my face then the nausea smacked into me like a train, sending me crashing in a headlong rush out of my bed and through the bathroom door.
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The Undetectables / Blog
The Undetectables
It was the unwelcome sound of squealing tyres that penetrated my alcohol-induced slumber that dull grey day in January. Forcefully dragging me from the safe warm unknown yet tantalizingly familiar place I dreamed of often and always after a heart to heart with a good bottle of single malt whisky. Either some poor sap was late for work or he’d fallen asleep where he shouldn’t have. Either way; h...e was in a bloody hurry and was the sole reason I was blindly fumbling for my cancer sticks via the travel clock beside my bed. I could have happily throttled the selfish bastard with my bare hands!
10:58. O.k. So it was a little later than I’d thought, but then it had been a very late night and everyone, me included, is entitled to a lay-in once in a while, it’s what makes Britain great! I closed my eyes against the cold grey glare of the day and shook out a cigarette onto my bedside cabinet, retrieved it, mouthed it and lit it all without re-opening my eyes or moving my head from the pillow. That could wait a bit longer. I took a long drag on the cigarette, inhaled deeply and immediately fell into a violent seemingly endless coughing fit that soon began to feel like it was gonna turn out to be the cough that would carry me off, the son of a bastard just didn’t seem to want to call it quits so I heaved myself off my pillow throwing my legs out of my bed kicking over an empty discarded bottle of Chivas Regal on the floor. I sat hunched forward willing the cough to stop, trying to hold my breath, eyes streaming, chest raw, but after a short while the spasm finally began to abate. I would live it seemed! No nice little trip with the grim reaper that day. Things were looking up!
So that was my regular morning routine done with, another day another dollar I thought miserably. I was just about ready for the second drag on my cancer stick, I believed my lungs might have stopped bleeding and my heart had slowed to somewhere near to it's usual rate, so I went for it and this time it felt ok. My head thumped but at least my lungs had decided to stay inside my body for a while longer. I sat awhile smoking and gathering my thoughts, replaying in my mind the regrettable events of the day before which had led to my good self getting a sound kicking from assailants unknown in the dark of night outside a seedy dive that I’d been led to, which was either directly related to the current case I’d been working on which had been leading in ever decreasing circles, or just been a really bad case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, which of late seemed to have become a bit of a bad habit of mine – among others. My ribs ached like hell and my face felt two sizes too small. I tentatively explored it like a blind man who’d forgotten what he looked like and had concerns he may look like Wayne Rooney. I tentatively prodded my swollen left cheek a little too vigorously unwittingly unleashing an explosion of pain both intense and shocking, ‘Aaaargh… Fuck’s sake!’ I spat angrily, it had hurt like a bloody bastard and my eyes watered even more, I sure wouldn’t be doing that again any time soon! At least my right hand was tender and the knuckles grazed indicating I’d managed to get at least one good one in before succumbing to the flurry of punches and kicks that had rained on yours truly like an avalanche! Small comfort I suppose, but then small comfort is better than none. I flexed my hand and made a fist. Yeah it was tender all right. A half smile danced briefly across my face then the nausea smacked into me like a train, sending me crashing in a headlong rush out of my bed and through the bathroom door.
Reply