
Out already?
Yes.
So what do you do in there? You’re in and out like a flash.
I wash.
In that short time? Where do you wash?
Oh, you know, in the immortal words of The Yardbirds: Over, Under, Sideways, down
Yes.
So what do you do in there? You’re in and out like a flash.
I wash.
In that short time? Where do you wash?
Oh, you know, in the immortal words of The Yardbirds: Over, Under, Sideways, down
You look like a newt
in yr birthday suit
she said with clear élan.
A little blemished.
Somewhat unfinished.
A strange fit of a man.
I’ve read yr text.
I know what’s next
& up the stairs she ran
What is the cat looking for under the gate?
Perhaps the old tom two doors down trudging across the road like a sloppy sentence.
Perhaps the purr that left her mysteriously six months ago.
Or maybe she’s dreaming of the Krazy Kat cartoons she loved read to her as a kitten.
Or what the rest of her siblings are up to at the Pet Barn and whether they landed on her feet like her when she was adopted.
Or maybe she’s just curious. She’s a cat after all.
Is it any good pleading? Thompson says.
For your life? Not really.
But you can’t just toss me aside like a dog carcass, not after all I’ve done for you.
You were more than serviceable, Hunter admits. But you’ve served your purpose. You can’t argue with me.
Will it be painless?
Yes.
Well, get it over with then.
One minute, Hunter says.
He reaches into his satchel and pulls out his laptop.
Finish your drink, Hunter says. Out with the old and in with the new, he smiles, keyboarding fiercely.
He taps the delete button.
And with that, Thompson is gone.
Your canal’s very narrow, he says.
Narrow?
Yes, like the Thai tunnel cave divers had to negotiate to get those boys out. Not much sound can get through. There are no cave divers small enough to help it along.
Like that film in the sixties? I say.
Which film is that?
‘Fantastic Voyage’, where a submarine crew are shrunk to microscopic size and injected into the bloodstream of a scientist to repair his brain.
Can’t help you there, he says.
Is it hereditary then?
Quite possible. The left auditory canal is quite large. Can carry a lot of sound.
Maybe that’s why I lean a little to the left, I say.
Politically? he asks.
No, doc. When I walk.
Bev put on a Golden Oldies disc
when Hippy Hippy Shake
jumped out of the player.
Chad Romero, I said.
Who?
Chad Romero, the singer. How good is my memory?
When she went into the shower, I sneaked a look at the CD cover
to make sure I’d got it right.
Huh? Swinging Blue Jeans, it said.
That’s funny, I thought, I’m sure it was Chad Romero.
So I Googled the name.
My heart sank.
‘Chad went home to be with the Lord,’ the Obituary began, ‘on April 23rd, 2017.’
Bullshit, I said. Chad was a hell-raiser. He wouldn’t have gone meekly as that.
There was no mention of his singing career.
So I Googled ‘Hippy Hippy Shake’ and there he was : CHAN ROMERO.Singer, composer, lyricist.
The full package.
And he’s still alive. Still rocking.
Sometimes one little letter can make a HUGE difference.
Because I did not have a name for it, I referred to it disrespectfully
as ‘The Beast’, ‘It’. ‘The Monster Devouring the Yard’
‘The Putin of Bushes’.
I fought it, slashed it, pruned it, tried to wrestle it
to the ground. It was defiant as The Terminator.
I phoned gardeners, Jim’s Mowing.
Send us photos they said. I did.
I could almost see them recoil in horror.
None phoned back, sent a text message.
The bush smiled smugly.
Then I phoned the Strata Title Management in desperation
and they sent me their contractor.
‘Looks like Japanese Honeysuckle, ‘ he said. ‘I can do this’.
He quoted a cash figure I was quite prepared for and an hour later
it had a neat little trim.
It’s own mother would be proud of it, he smiled.
I’ll be back in twelve weeks. You’ll probably need me.