This is a work in progress. I will edit this and play with it in the coming days.
“Who the fuck has put this fucking song on
the fucking juke box again?” yelled Big Bryn the barman.
Davey took a sip of his pint trying to look innocent, but everybody knew it was his favourite tune. His perfectly coiffured hair waved gently as someone threw the bar door open. The smell of Chanel Number 5 told Davey it was Maria. He looked up to see her ample backside poured into the smallest pair of jeans on the planet. How on earth had she managed to get into them? Davey thought. But what he was really hoping was that one of these days he’d get the chance to peel them off.
She was followed into the bar by the lads; Marty, Johnny, and Choirboi, the smell of Embassy Number 1s drowning out the sweet perfume. Davey used to be the fourth member of the gang, but he'd be told to sling his hook when his Duran Duran obsession became too much. The lads had followed their destiny down the pit as soon as it was legal to leave school; they weren't interested in qualifications, poncey music, and flowing locks - make up was certainly a no-no. But Davey was different, he’d never wanted to go down the pit. Davey had o-levels and was studying for a BTEC at college. He had his sights set on the bright lights of Cardiff, if he could make it there, he could make it anywhere.
“Davey's in then,” Choirboi said when he heard Girls on Film playing in the juke box
“I thought I could smell perfume,” Marty said and the others laughed.
Girls on Film was just ending. It was time to go home. Davey had about five fingers of his pint left; too much to neck in one go. He took a big mouthful and put his wallet in his pocket. Another smaller one and pulled his jacket on, then a third one and was standing up.
“See you, Ronnie,” the lads yelled. Davey looked longingly at Maria as he left, hoping she'd take pity on him and leave with him. But she laughed at the name Ronnie and took a sip of her Vodka and Coke.
Davey kicked a can all the way home. The rattle of metal on concrete somehow soothing his troubled mind. He had to get out of this place. It was time to make a decision. It was now or never.
Davey took a sip of his pint trying to look innocent, but everybody knew it was his favourite tune. His perfectly coiffured hair waved gently as someone threw the bar door open. The smell of Chanel Number 5 told Davey it was Maria. He looked up to see her ample backside poured into the smallest pair of jeans on the planet. How on earth had she managed to get into them? Davey thought. But what he was really hoping was that one of these days he’d get the chance to peel them off.
She was followed into the bar by the lads; Marty, Johnny, and Choirboi, the smell of Embassy Number 1s drowning out the sweet perfume. Davey used to be the fourth member of the gang, but he'd be told to sling his hook when his Duran Duran obsession became too much. The lads had followed their destiny down the pit as soon as it was legal to leave school; they weren't interested in qualifications, poncey music, and flowing locks - make up was certainly a no-no. But Davey was different, he’d never wanted to go down the pit. Davey had o-levels and was studying for a BTEC at college. He had his sights set on the bright lights of Cardiff, if he could make it there, he could make it anywhere.
“Davey's in then,” Choirboi said when he heard Girls on Film playing in the juke box
“I thought I could smell perfume,” Marty said and the others laughed.
Girls on Film was just ending. It was time to go home. Davey had about five fingers of his pint left; too much to neck in one go. He took a big mouthful and put his wallet in his pocket. Another smaller one and pulled his jacket on, then a third one and was standing up.
“See you, Ronnie,” the lads yelled. Davey looked longingly at Maria as he left, hoping she'd take pity on him and leave with him. But she laughed at the name Ronnie and took a sip of her Vodka and Coke.
Davey kicked a can all the way home. The rattle of metal on concrete somehow soothing his troubled mind. He had to get out of this place. It was time to make a decision. It was now or never.
No comments:
Post a Comment