Below is an excerpt from my upcoming book, The Leather Cannon. It is currently under review and should be available within the next three days. I will post a link when this happens.
The Anglers Arms car park is hard but not too hard for me to sleep on. The bitumen is warm and the heat of it has woken me up. I open my eyes. Corrie is still asleep and I call out to him. We didn’t make it to our rooms and I keep calling out to him until he finally tells me to fuck off. He curls up on the bitumen like it’s some sort of first rate bed and it doesn’t take him long to get back to sleep. Corrie drinks more than I do. Foul Mal the bartender comes outside and just shakes his head. What are you shaking your head at? I say.
You two clowns, he says.
We pay your wage, I say.
And you’re a week behind on your tab, he says and I ask him if he’s ever lived on a war pension. Of course he hasn’t. He just turns around and goes back into the Arms. I head back to my room to go back to sleep. Corrie is fighting demons in his sleep in the car park.
The sun is well and truly over us now with its vile heat like the kisses from an ugly aunt. We are walking to town along Scarborough Street and everyone is giving us a wide berth. It’s not me. It’s Corrie. He stinks because he hasn’t showered and he never does. The last time I mentioned this we got into a fist fight and I don’t want to do that again. Corrie hits hard. I think I could beat him, but if he caught me unexpectedly it’d be lights out. We’re almost in town and there’s a group of girls standing outside a sandwich shop waiting for their orders. They look to be about thirty and Corrie is horny. Hey girls. I’m a writer. Let’s fuck, he says and they’re all instantly repulsed and probably no longer want to eat their sandwiches. It’s such a waste. Corrie is an ugly man but he is a writer. His only book was published twenty-five years ago and he’s been working on the sequel ever since. You can’t talk about it though. It makes him angry. He calls them all frigid lesbians and we keep walking to town.
We’re in town and people are rushing here and there like lunatics. I thank God for being fucked up for a minute but then go back to wishing I was normal again. Someone calls my name from within the Cecil Hotel. It’s Nuts. Come inside, Bill, he says. It’s happy hour.
Right, I say and Corrie is already inside. I go in and Nuts is already seven beers in and Corrie is half way through his first and it feels like cheating. Fuck the Arms, says Nuts.
Yeah, fuck em, says Corrie and off he goes for his second.
The Arms has been good to us, I say and head to the bar.
Not to me, says Nuts.
You tried to rape a waitress there, I say.
Allegedly, says Nuts.
You don’t do time for allegedly, I say and Corrie tells me to shut the fuck up because I’m ruining happy hour.