The DVD Incident Part 2
I'll never see the bloke again, so I cease to worry about the DVD-lent-by-odd-strangers ramifications. Because there shall be none.
Makepeace [Brother’s fiancé and lady who drives me to work]: That Random Bloke knocked on our door last night. He wanted you to have this DVD.
She hands me it in the car.
I feel the hairs on my arms rise. This is Not Right.
Me: Em. Keep hold of it until tonight will you? Then I’ll take it home. Don’t want to cart it around work. (And have the questions. ‘What’s that then Tired?’. ‘Oh, it’s just a DVD a Mental lent me.’)
I get home. I put the DVD next to the others that rest against my little-used tele-vision.
Sitting on the sofa, I stare at it in a troubled manner.
That night, I have a quite vivid dream in which Random Bloke fucks the eye-sockets of a decapitated pig head and repeatedly howls my name. Whilst watching a copy of the DVD he has just lent me.
To be continued.