Simon and Terrance – episode two – Energy Drinks

 

Simon was sat on the sofa, his bony body sunken into it, his skull pointed towards the blank television. you could almost make out a smile by his skeletal jaw.

out of nowhere and into the armchair; Terrance appeared, his head twisting around like an owl’s as he adjusted to his reality.

“good evening!” announced Simon with a dull element of excitement in his voice pointing to some kind of enthusiasm.

“Whats so good about it” Terrance replied his ghostly body twitching, his arms stretched out and his face was yawning wide.

“Where’s harry” inquired Simon. “Harry, who the hell is Harry” replied Terrance; scrunching up his face in confusion

“you know the blood sucking freak” responded Simon in a condescending tone. “Nah don’t know im” scoured

Terrance. “You know the guy that got me my fags” said Simon suddenly realizing that he wasn’t smoking. He reached out his bony hand shakily to the coffee table, picked up his pack of cigarettes and preceded to pull out a death stick. “Ah the evil weed, my one true friend!” said Simon in a lazy throaty voice while exhaling the smoke; his yellowed finger bones extended to a tight v, gripping to his cigarette.

Then, out of nowhere; came a thud at the window, and then another. A few drops of blood splattered on to the window pane.

“For fucks sake, let harry in” exclaimed Simon. “I cant let him in I’m a bloody ghost” snapped Terrance.

Simon, still sat at the sofa calmly taking another toke of his cigarette. He stubbed it out and proceeded to fall asleep.

The bat at the window hovered outside for a moment and then flew away.

Bzzzzzz Bzzzzzz Bzzzzzz; the intercom was going off, Simon woke up. His arms accidentally flinging the ashtray onto the floor with a bear like clumsy stretch. The butts were all over the carpet and a mist of cigarette ash spread through the enclosed dusky air like a plague.

Simon slowly got up and walked out of the room and into the flat hallway where the intercom was, he then picked up the receiver ready to speak. “Who the hell is this” he moaned, ready to slam it down at a moments notice.

“It’s harry, it’s harry, let me in before the sun comes up” huffed harry in a hurried voice. “Oh okay” groaned Simon pressing the door release button for only a brief moment.

With groaning and straining noises from downstairs also came the loud bang of footsteps as if Harry had gained some weight.

Simon put the door on the latch and strolled back to the living room to sit down. Harry was taking his time and Simon couldn’t be bothered to wait for him.

Simon sat back down on the sofa, proceeded to pull out a cigarette and lit it; breathing in slowly as if he was Bob Marley.

“Who knocked the ashtray over” complained Simon noticing the cigarette buts on the floor. “You bloody idiot” mumbled Terrance half under his breath.

And immediately there was a crash and a bang and several bangs afterwards resonating through the walls, Harry had fallen down the stairs. “I think Harry fell down the stairs, should we help him” said Terrance. Simon stubbed out his cigarette with a gormless look and slowly sank into the sofa.

Meanwhile downstairs there was a moan and a groan as if someone was taking a shit, which was followed by a stomp and another stomp and another as Harry walked up the stairs.

Harry had finally made it up the stairs, there was a huge thud, he was putting something down. Harry opened the door struggling to pick it all up again and walked through the hallway and into the living room.

“Hi guys” shouted Harry enthusiastically. Somehow even after his fall he was still happy, he always was.

“What you got there, beer?” inquired Simon looking at the two crates of cans looking like they had come straight from the back of a lorry or supermarket.

Harry struggled to to put down the crates onto the coffee table, he dropped them halfway and the table legs broke under the immense weight.

“For fucks sake” shouted Simon sat on the edge of the sofa, his knees trembling of the shock.

“Theres one thing I love as much as I love the blood of virgins” said harry, his eye brows raised and a devious smile rising up on his face…

“Energy drinks!” exclaimed Harry. “Ooh energy drinks” said Simon ripping open the plastic wrapping on the top crate and helping himself to a can.

The crack and fizz of the can opening reverberated through the room as Simon poured the whole can through his skeleton, waterfalls of the dank yellow liquid came gushing through his rib cage like waterfalls; the fizz sounded through the room as the liquid soaked into the sofa and the carpet.

“Ooh thats satisfying” said Simon helping himself to another can. “I want one, I want one” yelped Terrance like an over excited puppy who had just hit puberty.

Harry obliged and opened a can to pour it right through Terrance; the surgery chemical spill soaking into the armchair making it look like Terrance had wet himself.

Just half an hour later and all of the 48 cans were empty and were just dumped on the floor in a messy stinky pile.

Terrance was sat on his own head upside down on the arm chair and Simon’s teeth were chattering as if he had come in from the cold.

Poor Harry hadn’t even had a single can and was sat next to Simon on the wet sofa with a frown on his face and his arms folded.

“Oh it’s okay, I can get more tomorrow” he pondered to himself.

“I wanna write a song, I wanna write a song, wheres my guitar” shouted Simon as if he was shouting to himself.

“A song, a song!, thats a great idea” shouted Terrance in a muffled voice. He was still upside down but facing the back of the arm chair.

Simon wandered to the storeroom to find his guitar while Terrance attempted head spins on the floor and Harry sat down huffing to himself in disappointment.

Simon found himself in the store room facing an enormous mountain of junk being circled by vultures while Spanish guitar music resonated in the background.

He buried himself under some of the junk and wandered on to find two shrunken heads hanging off and old table, they were arguing about a woman who had long since died on the plains of Africa; “Shes mine dammit, I kissed her” said the first one in a high pitched voice. “Well I got over the sweater action” argued the other his voice not dissimilar.

“Shut the hell up you two” shouted Simon, “have you seen my guitar, it’s painted black with skull stickers on it” continued Simon. “guitar” they both squelched in unison; there heads pointing west.

Simon moved on, he was still desperate to sing and play some chords, an hour later after walking through the ruble, disused furniture and old catalogs his guitar was finally within sight. He ran to his beloved tripping over a huge pile of odd smelly socks. As he fell there was a mighty rumble and showers of junk fell all around him; dusky clothes, empty wine bottles and various other forms of trash.

“Oh sodding hell, I’m stuck here” he pondered picking up his guitar and playing some melancholy chords. “theres no way out of hereee, theres no way out of hereee” he sang in a mono tonal croaky voice. His song resonating through the chaotic endless spiral of disused junk. He had finally crashed from all the caffeine.

Fin

Simon and Terrance – episode 1 – A Fag Before Christmas

Simon’s skull was piss yellow from all the cigarettes he smoked. The ten teeth that he had left had become yellowy brown for the same reason. He stood up, his bony skeleton cracking as he did so.

“I’m getting too old for this” he said in a disgruntled tone.

Terrance immediately sat on Simon’s seat, trying to reach for the pack of cigarettes. But his ghostly hands just went straight through them.

“Ha Ha!” Simon laughed. Terrance stood up and looked out of the window…

To his utmost horror saw a plethora of colorful light shows hanging in the center of the street.

“can you open the window Simon?” he asked weakly. The ice cold weather no obstacle to the two due to their lack of nerve endings. Then the most cataclysmic and disastrous thing either of them could ever imagine occurred to them .

The sound of singing over cheap megaphones, the colorful lights and the ice cold weather.

“Oh bloody hell! Simon proclaimed

“What is it you cantankerous old fool?” Terrance responded.

“It’s only bloody Christmas” Simon said. He reached his bony fingers towards his cigarettes in a desperate search for release from their gloomy epiphany. “Well close the bloody window, I can’t stand that horrific music” interrupted Terrance.

“Get the hell out of my chair and I’ll close the window” said Simon. Terrance had a terrified look on his face as he floated to the other chair by the television. “Hey you bony freak, put the TV on” demanded Terrance. “That TV hasn’t worked since 1953 you insolent nincompoop” said Simon, reaching for his lighter. Simon extended his bony hand out for a cigarette, pulled it from the packet and lit it. They both pondered in a brief moment of calm.

“Bloody idiot” said Terrance

“What?” said Simon

“I dunno, I just felt like saying it and it is true” replied Terrance

Simon reached out his bony hand and arm and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. He then searched his pack so he could smoke another one. He gasped then started to rattle and shake. There were no cigarettes left.

“Oh dear god we’ve run out of fags” said Simon stumbling his words. “So what!” replied Terrance

“No this is serious. This means were gonna have to go outside” said Simon.

Normally when Simon ran out of cigarettes they would end up hiding from mortals and stealing them from the local corner shop.

“I don’t want to go outside, you can go on your bloody own” Said Terrance in a stern manner. “But I need you to haunt the shop assistant so I can hide in full view in a witches hat and reach for the fags” replied Simon. “that only works on Halloween, you incompetent idiot” said Terrance. “I’m sure we have a Christmas hat and some tinsel somewhere” replied Simon. “It’s no bloody use, your just gonna have to quit” said Terrance with a smug look on his face.

Five long minutes went by and Simon was shaking and rattling. “Stop bloody rattling you insane idiot” shouted Terrance

“It’s no bloody use, I really want a fag” replied Simon. Another five minutes went by. And another five minutes went by.

Terrance was now even more agitated than Simon of his rattling skull, his shaking skeleton and his perpetual pacing up and down the living room. “okay then, bloody hell, I’ll come outside with you” shouted Terrance. Simon’s bony face morphed into something vaguely resembling a smile. “Yippee!” shouted Simon. His voice had become childlike from the excitement. “Were gonna get some fags!” he sang in a tuneless voice. “If it will shut you up” responded Terrance.

Terrance; despite perceptions was somewhat excited to venture outside. After all, Simon hadn’t ran out of cigarettes for just over three years. Terrance went into poltergeist mode and whispered “Simooooon, Simooooon” and the room began to shake all around him. “That was my favorite cup you damn fool” said Simon as his besotted cup fell to the ground from a shelf shattering into hundreds of tiny pieces. “But at least I know your ready to do this” continued Simon. Simon wandered off into the store room, he started pulling out drawers opening cupboards and generally turning the whole room upside down. Terrance came floating through the wall from the living room. “What are you doing” said Terrance. “Looking for my Christmas hat and the tinsel” replied Simon emptying another drawer onto the floor carelessly spreading its contents all over the floor.

“It’s on top of the TV” said Terrance. “It’s been there for the last five years you numb skull” continued Terrance. They both returned to the living room and looked at the TV with a Christmas hat on it with tinsel over the top. “So it is” said Simon. He reached his bony hand to the top of the TV and picked up the hat and tinsel while sleigh bells resonated in his head. He pulled the hat over his skull and and wrapped the tinsel over his shoulders. “right, we’re off to get some fags” said Simon his excited child like tone returning to his voice. “Oh okay then, if we must” replied Terrance. They both ventured to the front door of their flat and Simon opened it, its hinges creaking the door letting in a blast of ice cold air. They could see the hallway in the building was was decorated with Christmas lights and the sounds of faded Christmas music was coming from outside the door, “Ghastly” said Terrance as Simon slammed the flat door shut behind them. They both stood stunned in the hallway staring into the lights. “I can’t do this, I… I… I’m just gonna have to quit” stammered Simon. “Quit! you’ve brought me all this way and now your gonna quit, you’ll never quit anyway were just gonna have to keep going” commanded Terrance. “Your right, I’ll never quit” Said Simon slowly walking down the stairs.He walked passed the other flats with Terrance floating not far behind him. They had made it to the back of the front door. “You ready?” asked Simon. Terrance nodded so Simon slowly and carefully opened the door… Only to be greeted by a group of young children and a couple of adults sining jingle bells. One of the adults was holding out a donation bucket. Simon looked at them as they continued to sing, his knees turning to jelly. Simon screamed. The children all suddenly noticed that Simon was just a skeleton and they all screamed back. Simon screamed again, Simon did not like human mortals. They all ran away as fast as the wind, leaving their donation box behind them. The sleigh bells once again resonated in Simona skull as he grabbed the donation bucket it and quickly brought it in and slammed the door shut. Leaving the ice cold winds and the Christmas music behind them. They both hurried up stairs and Simon began to count all the cash in the living room. There were notes, nuggets, silvers and coppers. Terrance stared blankly at the dead television imagining they would be on the news for stealing money. “3,746 pounds” said Simon with a tight grin on his face. “Yes but how can be buy the fags with it?” inquired Terrance. Suddenly there was a blast of wind and the window rattled and few drops of blood splattered onto the window pane. A small bat thudded against the window.”open the window, open the window” said Terrance. Simon reached to open it up and with a puff of smoke harry turned into his human form. Pale skin, pointed teeth, balding hair and a long black coat. “we’ve got some money, will you get us some fags” demanded Simon without even saying hello. “yeah hi guys, I can do a night time shop run, no problem”. The sleigh bells once more resonated in Simon’s skull

Prosecco…

The sky and everything beneath it was pitch black, except for the stars.

Offering millions of tiny distant glimmers of hope, or so it would seem.

This was a place where all would be blind to their surroundings.

The dim yet full moon was smothered in thick black clouds.

I was looking all around me in strickened panic.

Normally you would expect to hear the howling of wolves but even they must have been frightened.

The distant roar of the thunder was echoing through the meadows and each time the sound erupted it became a little bit louder.

As too my heart beat became faster and harder and faster and harder.

The tiny stars became coated in the dark clouds so were barely even visible now.

A drop of sweat came down from my forehead, and another.

Then the lightening came. Bright forks lit up the skies like a calling from god.

I took a step forwards along the path to what could be the end of my destiny and the rain began to fall heavily upon me from above.

It seemed I was deep in the shit of the heavens when suddenly the forceful winds came in to join in these harsh dances of mother earth.

And then the biting cold came too and it seemed it could freeze the center of the sun.

And the rains became hail.

And the full force of the winds spewed the icy hail into my face; cold, stinging and sore.

My body was shivering and my teeth where chattering. I continued to walk towards my uncertain fate

My mind in heightened awareness of an already vivid scene, I felt trapped outside like something was keeping me here.

I was dreaming of home and sunshine and days at the beach drinking prosecco with strawberries in the glass underneath a clear blue sky; the sand between my toes…

But I had to stay focused. I continued again to walk on, the muscles in my calf’s straining, my clothes wet and the lightening coming closer still.

After the sky was once again illuminated by lightening I could hear the loud crack and thud of a tree falling not all that far away from me.

The thunder roared even louder than before and I thought my heart would jump right out of my chest and onto the floor.

I fell to my knees and screamed at the sky and prayed for god to save me from this treacherous disaster.

Another fork of lightening came and another crack. A tree was falling above me from beside the path.

I was out cold…

And then…

I awakened, I slowly opened my eyes but all was a blur, I screamed with all my might.

A blurred woman in blue came and told me “everything will be ok”

I was in a hospital. I layed back and tried to overcome the aftermath of what had happened.

I tried to relax and looked out the window.

There was a storm outside…

Bus stop…

The smell of petrol fumes in the air masked my aftershave. The time was quarter passed two in the afternoon.

Over on the other side of the road was another bus stop. Cars, bikes and motorcycles were continuously zooming passed and even though I had been waiting for nearly half an hour now, it appeared that any bus was yet to come.

After all it was a Sunday.

The creeping threat of rain and the cold wind kept me in a petulant suspense.

The (dare I say) younger of the two ladies on the other side of the road kept standing up and sitting down as if she was playing a rather stagnant game of musical chairs. And no matter how many times she stood up and looked to the right again she could not summon the bus anymore quickly.

The older girl seemed keen to chat to her but she was seemingly and deliberately sat further down the stop as to avoid all the small talk and chitter chatter.

To be honest I felt sympathetic towards the older girl as she must have been lonely. Perhaps her husband had died. I pondered on this and soon began to question the solidarity of my own mortality.

I was soon distracted as my bus had finally arrived. I stood up and stuck out my hand. I was very much looking forwards to a cup off hot coffee and some chocolate biscuits.

After all there is no place like home…

Mirrors…

In front of the mirrors stood several bottles of a mans cure for loneliness at high percentages of volume.

Three men sat at the bar

one with worn tattoos of a man who would have fought in his younger years, nowadays reputation and confrontation were a mere distant dream.

Another in a striped shirt with a plain hair cut. Two drinks he had to reflect his stressful work and difficult family life.

The other wearing a gray beanie and a lumber jack shirt, his posture was juxtaposed to the other two, still he managed to balance the chip on his shoulder.

The barmaid was away in a back room somewhere on a personal call on the pubs telephone. She was a loud mouth, swearwords were commonplace in her vocabulary and what to her was a normal conversation could cause avalanches in mountains of snow.

The tension between the men was tough and couldn’t be chipped with angle grinders or chainsaws.

They all smiled and adjusted their body language to be more friendly as the barmaid walked back into the bar.

“HI boys” she said with a smile on her face. They all nodded and the tattooed man asked for another beer while the other two smirked.

 

 

 

A lonely pint…

The bright lights behind the bar were in great contrast to the dark and dim atmosphere that surrounded it. The furniture was dark brown and there were lighter brown walls around with warn images of winged mythological creatures with lions heads and strong arms with certain claws directly painted on them.

One man was sat at the bar slowly mulling over his pint in deep thought. “Still waters run deep huh…” the barman said to the customer. The man nodded in agreement and stroked his beard in a contemplative manner. He then swilled his pint around and took a small sip from it.

The clock on the wall said a quarter past six as a large golden retriever wandered slowly towards the man and looked up with kind begging eyes, The man patted her head. The smell of malted dog hairs, hops and musk of unclean carpet merged into the warm air.

The man threw the dog a crisp onto the wooden part of the floor below him. Then dog looked down, ate the crisp and looked up again.

“Not no more” the man said as he took the last sip of his pint.

He slowly stood up, nodded to the barman and walked slowly to the exit. As he opened the door the sounds of rushing traffic and people talking outside overcame the quiet soft rock music in the pub as if there had only been c0mplete silence.

Desert house…

The house was hundreds of miles from anywhere. It’s dry cracked walls seemed as though they had been beaten by the harsh sandy wind for hundreds of years.

Sand surrounded the house for as far as the eye could see and clumps of tall dried grass stood out, dotted around the dry ground like lost beards.

The deep light blue sky above could have been a tropical ocean, consuming every drop of sweat from me with evaporation.

I took another step towards the house. My dry, hot, blistering feet sinking into the ground as it was quicksand.

I was hoping there was water here. I had taken all the water from my canvas bottle and even my tongue felt as dry as the ground below me.

My eyes were now like bee stings and my face was beaten and red.

As I got closer to the house I could see that there were tiles fallen from the roof. Another drowning footstep in the sand and I could see that the windows were smashed.

There was no one sat outside the building. Was anyone inside?

I took yet another grueling step forwards and as I steeped over a clump of dry grass my desperation for water and exhaustion had me crawling on my knees. The hot sand closer to my burnt face.

I finally got to the steps of the house and tried to shout to whoever may have been inside “Hello”. My shout was but a tired painful whisper.

I crawled up the steps and the door was as weak as I was and fell flat into the house with a single touch of my sore hand.

The house had been empty seemingly for several years. I crawled to the kitchen and desperatly pulled myself up to standing by the sink. I grappled with the tap and twisted it but all that came out was a tiny bit of sand…