Friday, June 03, 2005

SHades hop

I arrive at the shop in the most comfortable garments known to man, my pyjamas and a pair of Wellington boots. A pipe adorned my mouth hole. The pipe was for decoration only as, you see, I do not smoke. I asked the counterman, “Where do you keep your delectable cereals, the kind to wake up the sleepy sailor.”
The counterman raised his scaly finger slowly, to ensure I have his undivided attention. I followed it closely, my eyes bathing in the disgusting details. A nail cracked in the middle straight down to the skin, calluses that you could file your teeth with and blood dripping from an open wound. I understood this man from just his finger. This man has fought more fights than a bear and I loved him.
But to where he pointed was pitch black and on closer inspection, sunken into the ground. The back of the shop just slanted down at an eighty-degree slope and possibly didn’t stop until Hell opened it fiery gates to it. I took a guess that this shop served demons and devils as well as gentle human folk.
“How dare you, counterman, point me towards what must be certain demise for just some crunchy goodness. I curse you and your whore.” I slam my fist and point into the air. “I will be back to burn down this shop and you, should you be still in it. Beware counterman. Leave here or you shall smoulder with this Mars.” I hold a Mars Bar up for effect and exit the shop, banging the door behind me.

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