the good the bad and the hoddly
There she sits.
It is...
It is she who knows not kismet. It is she who knows not fate. It is Richard. It is Raymond. It is Hoddlebun at the gate.
Well you know what I mean.
So there she sits.
Across from me in the window seat.
Big hair shining in the clear Autumn light of a Dublin evening.
I'm safe enough.
She can't try anything in the Stephens Green cafe. Not with all these people around.
We're quaffing coffees.
Nothing bad can happen.
"Jamie," murmurs the unquiet American. "I've got to ask you a favour. Just for a few weeks. Not a large amount."
And from somewhere, not too far away, the ghost of Sergio Leone went: "Aieeeeaieeeeaaaaa!"
It is...
It is she who knows not kismet. It is she who knows not fate. It is Richard. It is Raymond. It is Hoddlebun at the gate.
Well you know what I mean.
So there she sits.
Across from me in the window seat.
Big hair shining in the clear Autumn light of a Dublin evening.
I'm safe enough.
She can't try anything in the Stephens Green cafe. Not with all these people around.
We're quaffing coffees.
Nothing bad can happen.
"Jamie," murmurs the unquiet American. "I've got to ask you a favour. Just for a few weeks. Not a large amount."
And from somewhere, not too far away, the ghost of Sergio Leone went: "Aieeeeaieeeeaaaaa!"
posted by heelers | 1:43 AM
2 Comments:
Who was she talking to? Oh wait, you mean she referred to the Good Lord Heelers as 'Jamie'?!
Hmmm...*narrows eyes* she's a wrong 'un.
Schnee she's so far beyond being a wrong un she's come out the other side and is a right un.
James
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