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Short Story (Episodic): The MacCall's Sessions: Alfred
This is one of a multi-part short story collection upon which I'm working. It's the one I like the most, so I'm curious to see what other people think.
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It was morning somehow. God, how was it morning? Was it, even? It was dark outside... and then lightning. Must be daytime at least, though... the Gypsies outside begging and screechstompsqueezing with their little band. Fuck me, was it really morning? Ah, there's the thunder. Why were the Gypsies outside in this? Probably didn't have anywhere to go. But then, where did they go at night? Too much thinking for the morning.
Last night. There'd been a girl, skirt down to her ankles. Better that way. More... something. Something about it that he liked.
Pain in the nose now. Why? Ah, face on the table. Tough to tell if that smell was his own vomit or what was soaked into the ancient wood. Face up? No, more pain. Face down.
Last night. There'd been a skirt, girl down to her ankles. Better that way...
Pain in the leg. Don't know why. Blood, ooh. Dried, good. Lightning, gypsies-did-they-ever-stop-sawing-on-that-violin?
Last night. Green eyes and red hair, but didn't they all have when you really thought about it? I've been waiting for you she said and where have you been? Here, like always. How come I've never seen you she asked? Maybe you've never looked. She laughed a million sleigh bells. A bird in the hand, you know. But it flew away, and then here *you* are! Am I, he asked? Sure, and here I am too and isn't that a happy convenience?
Nice of Jimmy to let him sleep. Maybe he didn't have a choice though, if he couldn't be rousted and if Jimmy didn't want the cops. Jimmy never wanted the cops.
Last night. Red eyes and green hair, but didn't they all have when you really thought about it? I've been waiting
Lord these Gypsies had to stop. Getting louder and are they really changing keys again? Do the legs still... they moved. Surprising, but isn't it always. Water water water ah there it is. Jimmy's a saint. Lightning instant clap rattling the bottles. Don't think about bottles at least for a couple more hours.
Last night. God but didn't she have nice breasts and smell like lilac and didnt she have the prettiest... I was thinking he started to say. I know, but you don't need to tell me. He knew that. I always know and you know that. He did, but how could he, if we only just met? But we didnt only just, she protested and he knew by her confusion that it must be true. Maybe last night wasn't really last night.
Thank god the violin was gone. Maybe it broke. Maybe he got really lucky and the fiddlegypsy had tripped and fell right on top of it. Guitargypsy was still there plinkplinkplunking away so it wasn't all lucky. It's never all lucky, is it?
The rain came.
It's never all lucky, is it? she'd asked him, and all he could do was nod dumbly back. What's your name he'd finally asked her. Her face got wet (was it the rain? when was the rain?)
The gypsies have a drum now? Sunday, must be Sunday sure as anything she'd be taking Mass. Go look for her? The finding was heavenly from here but the terror got the better of him.
Last night. There'd been a girl. Skirt down to her ankles. She was either his wife, or she should be. Or she should have been.
Flash boom gypsy sing and church bell ring.
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