How Many Days?
I am 'out the back' smoking a cigarette.
There is a large brick wall opposite the back door of the building. Upon it, somebody has utilised a can of spray-paint to create the legend 'Johnny Sucks Cock for Rock'.
To accompany this is a portrait of a gentleman with his mouth wide open (I assume this to be 'Johnny') whilst one foot away an unrealistically large penis ejaculates several droplets of what I assume to be sperm directly into 'Johnny's mouth. Not a drop goes astray. Million-to-one.
If I were 'Johnny' I would be fucking furious.
I am contemplating this when Hippy Journalist comes out to join me.
[Not entirely fair. It should be noted that when Hippy Journalist was dumped by Hippy Girlfriend, he promptly had a numer-one-all-over-buzz-cut and started eating meat and could no longer give a fuck about 'the planet' or, indeed, 'peace'. If ever he did. Whatever it takes, I say.]
Hippy Journalist lights hand-rolled and suspiciously fragrant cigarette.
HJ:[By way of 'hello'] I've not been to the toilet in four days.
HJ: Don't get me wrong. I've had a wee, but..............
I put out my cigarette and went back to work.
Some months later, we actually became quite good friends. Once all the intimate talk had died off. Christ. We're not women for God's sake.
Next: Enchanted Dad. (Suffice to say, it's not about me.)