the point, why. It looks uncomfortable but she seemed happy with it, asked, ‘So who’d you kill for this?’
I thought I’d let that slide for a bit, see how it shaped, so I asked her, ‘What’s a Yank doing shoplifting in South-East London? I mean, wouldn’t Harrods or Selfridges be more appropriate.’
‘I’m hoping to take my Ph.D. in Metaphysics.’
‘What shop does them?’
She gave a toss of her head.
‘Don’t be a horse’s ass. Ontology is the primary element in metaphysics, you know that I guess.’
‘On… wot?’
‘It’s the ontological dilemma. What really exists as opposed to that which appears to exist but does not.’
‘I appear to have lost you.’
‘Gimme another shot of that Scotch.’
I did and asked,
‘OK, so let’s say you grab this Ph.D. – it qualifies you to do what?’
She shrugged, it caused her breasts to move forward and I felt something move myself.
‘Oh I guess I’ll probably still be stealing but at least I’ll be able to look into the soul of the store detective.’
‘Shit, don’t bother. I already did and it’s a wilderness. Not a place you’d want to visit.’
‘Very deep Cooper. Tell me, are you a winner?’
‘Fuck knows, depends who’s keeping score.’
‘I’m serious here guy. I don’t want to know from losers, you gettin’ this. I’ve been nickled and dimed to death.’
‘Hey… lady, get a grip, look around you, am I hurting here?’
‘What… this proves what exactly. That your taste is way up your ass… and an automobile that ain’t worth shit in the city.’
That was about it, I’d had it. Put down my glass, time to fold her tent. But she stood, came to me, said, ‘Fuck me rough.’
Before I could reply, she put her hand on my crotch, pulled the zip down, took a grip of the action. She purred, ‘Oh you’re ready to pop.’
I was… and in a little while, I did. She was sitting astride me and gave a slow smile, said, ‘I’ve a piece of you now, you’ll never ball any other broad… you hear me?’
‘What’s this… post-coital aggression?’
‘It’s the truth, remember you’ve been warned.’
I didn’t know how to answer this so I didn’t. She rolled offa me, said, ‘You grab some Zzzzz’s and I’ll wake you with a blow job. You’ll come to, so to speak. Sound good?’
Yeah, well it didn’t sound too bad so I grabbed the shut-eye. Dreamt too, of pigeons and breaking glass and store detectives shouting ‘It’s a fair cop.’ Bert was there too but I don’t really recall what he was doing, save sweating.
When I woke, she was gone. Was I disappointed. Well, my body wanted her but my head roared THANK FUCK FOR THAT.
A note was propped on the coffee table. Not a note, a bloody manuscript. Jeez, maybe she’d left me her thesis and how long had I slept. Checked my watch, I’d been out four hours… What? The note consisted of long manuscript pages. I read the first.
Hi lover,
You’ll have slept well. Certainly you’ll have slept long as I added a little something to your drink. I felt you were a tad tense, as you English might say. You’ll find it left you parched so I only drank half your juice.
She was right, I went and got the OJ… swamped it. Read on:
Took me ages to locate the goddamn phone but I guess we both know I already have your number. In my rummaging, I found a sawn-off shotgun and an automatic pistol. How dangerous is this neighbourhood? I confiscated them. Just kidding big guy… lighten up, these are the jokes. And I also discovered boxes of money. Naturally, I skimmed some bills off the top ’cos it’s what I do.
I’ve put down some Louis MacNeice as your education begins NOW. Pay attention, I’ll be asking questions… and WHERE ARE THOSE ESSAYS! Can you smell me offa you… you’re all over me you stallion, you well-hung colossus.
Whoops, here’s my cab. Hate to
Your Cassie
‘Fuck me,’ I said.
Went to check the wardrobes and sure enough, the shoe boxes were open, she’d helped herself to a very generous wedge (of bills). The pistol was gone. So now the bitch was armed. I already knew she was dangerous.
Made some strong coffee and had a shower. Took a hard look at myself in the full-length mirror and didn’t relish what I saw. Sandy hair already thinning out, hooded brown eyes and a poor nose. My mouth was like a thin compressed line and even in laughter, it didn’t improve a whole amount. Deep ridges down the side of my nose as if they’d been cut. But I had good teeth and worked at keeping them. I was five feet ten inches tall and had exercised for a lotta years. The muscle still held but it was loosening. A pot belly was beginning to shape and fuck, nothing could impede its progress… lest I stop eating… yeah. The booze didn’t help but I wasn’t about to get that concerned. Did Jack Nicholson care?
I dressed in old Levi cords, so faded they could have got a pension and wow, were they comfortable or what. One more wash, you know, they were history…
I pulled on a hooded black sweatshirt, to accessorize my hooded eyes, it read ‘I’M A GAS’. Yeah, just couldn’t stem the humour, I was a real fuckin’ comedian.
Completed the outfit with a pair of battered moccasins that whispered, ‘I love your feet… I love you.’
Sure felt like it. Put some gel in my hair to get that wet look. When you’re forty-two years old, you’ll try any gimmick. It made my hair look wet which I guess is the point. I hoped for that crumpled Don Johnson effect but I got close-call wino. Tried that American voice again, roared ENOUGH ALREADY! And went to read the MacNeice piece.
‘Without heroics, without belief
I send you, as I am not rich
Nothing but odds and ends a thief
bundled up in the last ditch
for few are able to keep moving
they drag and flag in the traffic
while you are alive beyond question
like the dazzle on the sea my darling.’
Hey! Are you getting this? Here’s some more purely as introduction.
‘The bullfight, the fanderillas like
Christmas candles
And the scrawled hammer and sickle
It was all copy – impenetrable surface
I did not look for the sneer beneath the surface
Why should I trouble,
Running away from the Gods of my own hearth
With
Of finding Gods elsewhere.’
You don’t get it Cooper do you… I know you don’t but, by Christ, you will. Here endeth the lesson, memorise the underlined pieces. Auden gave some lines to MacNeice, I think they had you in mind. I’ll sign off with them.
‘Shall I drink your health before
The gun-butt raps upon the door.’
I put down the sheets, drained the coffee and said, ‘Memorise! Kiss my ass.’
The Doc was saying, ‘I keep breaking out in spots… spots like Croydon, Norwood, and bloody Brixton.’
