Tuesday, 1 September 2009

Brainwave In The Morning Star

Earlier Aloysius instructed me to meet him in The Morning Star. I arrived early an ordered a Guinness and took a seat at the bar. Two seats away on my left a phlemic old man sat all shrivelled up hacking away. After gargling with his own bile for a bit he took a deep quick breath and it suddenly felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room in a prolonged explosion. A stream of bile and Smithwicks gushed out of his wrinkly old mouth and splashed across the bar like a vomit wave breaking on a mahogany shore. Kimba arrived just then and immediately on sight of the boke gagged herself and had to run out into the alley to be sick. When she came back in I took a good look at her up and down. She was as usual a fucking site. She had decided to wear her leopard print leotard with a pink ra-ra skirt over it and a pair of lipstick red knee high boots. She wore her green corduroy blazer with her multicoloured ribbon pin badge in the lapel that she’d years ago forgotten the meaning of or what it represented,
- you dress yourself like a blind hooker – I told her
- fuck’ah – she replied. – where’s that fuckin’ space cadet Ali’ishis anyway, fuck’s sake –
- we’re early. He’ll be here in a bit.
- How long you say he kipped for? 6 days. Fuckin’ hell. Is he on the diazies?
- I don’t know – I told her.

While we waited for Aloysius to show, Kimba told me all about her girlfriend the mistress. To illustrate the Mistress’s ‘ferosh’-isness Kimba told me a story about something they did to a guy years ago who used to live across the hall from them. After fully seducing him over a course of weeks they one night invited him into their room. She told me that night her and the Mistress give him the best triangle workout they’d ever given any ‘bitta meat between the baps’ and after a while he couldn’t stay away from the place, just as Mistress had intended. - Then she turned fuckin’ mental on him – Kimba said.
- first it was wee silly things she did to him, like whip his bare bum with rulers and her cat-o-9-tails, gently like, then one night he got him to beat her after handcuffin’ herself to the bedpost. He did this wee gay flick of the wrists to begin with, like just brushed it along her back, and she kept on goin ‘harder, harder’ so he got rough with her and really want for it, and she kept on sayin then ‘right put me down. Start givin me abuse’ and he went through it all, you’re a cunt you eat shit etc and god love him he went though all the insults he could think of which took him all of five seconds then he yelled ‘ YOU’RE LOWER THAN A FROG!’ and both of us, me and mistress cracked up. But that was when he thought he was in control then and mistress made sure of it when she told him afters that he was an accomplished dominant lover. But see the next week, me and mistress did all sorts of things to him. Tied him to the bed and put feags out on him, slapped him about, poured bleach on his skin, shite on him, in his mouth and all, then she put glue down his japs eye and up his arse and she was done with him. We still saw him goin in and out and all but mistress wouldn’t let me talk to him and she didn’t herself.

- That thing you did with him, with the glue, I’ve heard of that bein done on nonces inside – I said pensively before thinking over and over in my head ‘honeytrap, hoenytrap, honeytrap’. A honeytrap where I’d employ violent sexual abuse to illicit information. Then I thought ‘Scientologists’. Then I put my earphones in to drown out Kimba's tripe and listened to this song to calm and focus my mind on hatching a plan.

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