"In Search Of A Filth"
Half four on Sunday morning, the hotel bar empty save for a fella sat at reception reading the paper, sippin some fruit juice, chillin to some Dean Martin.
In my pocket, on one of many pieces of folded file-paper, a note; "Ask reception for bog roll. P.S - Sir Fleming needs a piss."
He got his piss, far as I recall, certainly there don't seem to be no follow-up notes regarding the urge, but the room, it's still got a gaping rotten dot com wound where the Bathroom Wipes should be.
So yeah, The Duke and Sir Fleming, the latter frazzled by The Liquor, the former frazzled by The Lust, barking about toilet roll, we need toilet roll, the room's done gone rid itself of the damn bog-wipes, on account of yeah, I got a bit Coltrane with the process a while back, felt like tackling it in a kinda freestyle manner, ended up a sorry state all being told, my apologies.
"What? You want what?"
"Toilet roll. We need. Aye."
Cherry what?"
"Toilet roll!"
"I don't know what you're saying!"
"Fuck my eyes, toilet roll!"
I'm miming the act of taking a leaf or six a shit-screed and wiping it cross an imaginary arsehole.
"Oh, toilet paper, ok, sure."
Thank god we didn't need tampons, I'm thinking.
Do we need tampons?
Sir Fleming looks unsure.
The fella comes back with the "cherry what?" and I ask him where a man might find a decent tampon at this hour. There's an all-night grocery store round the corner, he says, you'd get them there.
The news eases me somewhat, and truth be told, a fella needs all the easing he can get. I'd give my last lung for a moment of calm, is the gist of it all. The last few hours, they been a beautiful, life-affirming tapestry of regal decadence and black metal and heart-breaking smiles. Of punk-kids with faces red and bulging on account of the poppers, with gorgeous ladies getting all Last Tango with each other just for the fuck of it, with big fellas with tiny guitars taking to the streets at 3am in tracksuit bottoms and wrinkled jumpers, just cause why not, they got a couple songs to play and A Touch Of Evil finished fifteen minutes ago.
With armies of fellas with Oberst fringes getting in fights with each other, "No you bastard, I got the most emo hair, I got bleach in through and everything, I couldn't feel more jaded if I tried!"
Article comments
1 - Cerulean
Pretty exciting and exotic. I think you should make it easier to follow if you want to do something more with it, which you might. Could be a novel. One of those why I can't find love novels, where hopefully in the end you do, perhaps?
2 - Bennett
Alriiiiight! Part three tomorrow?
Thanks The Duke, I'm making plans to fly out to Dublin, 'cause it sounds damn lively to a lad living in the rolling cow hills of Vermont right now.
Can't pick a favorite line, they're all memorable.
3 - Eric Berlin
Duke -- I dug the hell out of every inch of this. You bring strange and surreal and haunted and magical days to light like no one else.
All I can ask is that you keep it coming.
Well, maybe a bright and breezy piece of the accordance of "Today the Duke ate some Cheetos, listened to some records, and had a fabulous chat with a telephone marketer" every now and again would be lovely to let us kind of take a brake and/or cleanse the palate.
You know, or something.
4 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
hey folks!
Cerulean, thanks for the comments! i dunno that any such notions of novels or novellas or the like ever ran through a man's head, but i will agree that it's maybe fairly hard to follow, on account of the jumpin back and forth in time an the like. Is there anyone who truly hasn't a damn clue what's goin on?
Bennett, thank you! i'd imagine part three'll be fairly shortly also.
Eric, i see where you're comin from. sometimes i think im gettin too "heavy" or summit, but then i think hang on, i never actually said ANYTHIN! heh. but no, i know what you mean. part three starts with a discussion of kentucky fried chicken, so maybe that'll suffice for the meantime...
again, thanks folks!