Inside the Safe House
‘If life gives you horse apples ~ plant a rose garden’ Pongo Pongo aka old man of the forest
Julian Drew~drew flying babies~flight goggled in leather helmeted free fall. Silhouettes swooping through solid blue yonder. Childless~he couldn’t tell a foetal heartbeat from wallpaper. Born before screens were installed~wall to wall~a pre-Raphael dinosaur. Serenely soporific~he reclines like a deck chair~sipping sourly on his whiskey soda a gnat’s whisker away from extinction. Weekdays Michelle MaBelle whores and scores smack up in town. A good time given in exchange for brown bubbling spoon rocks She’s fallen prey to dismay on alternate weekends. Thus depression’s a thing~giving head to so many bellends Injecting caustic humour~direly needed~into the endless suburban ennui. Two ex~King’s Road~aged hippie~pot roasted smack heads so laid back they make paisley slippers look exciting, racy, comfortable, Hip! They live in the basement~bohemian adjacent~to Unseen Auntie~who dwells in the attic Of a late victorian townhouse~all dry rot and quietly weeping~mildew reminders. Uncle Derek thinks he knows King Fu~brags about it Down the boozer to any poor loser~who’ll sit still long enough to listen How he beat up three fellas making mincemeat of his car one night. Loves to twiddle his gingerbread moustaches~gleefully recounting his proletarian~fisticuff prowess. Bit of a git really~but a hit with the girls~or so he tells it. His car’s pretty poncy~all throb and no heart~know what I mean? The kind that comes with a manual and a penis extension. Ditto Derek. The residence (ffs) overlooks a pebble strewn strand. A bandstand and a decomposing Martello tower. Which has seen better days~since Napoleon declined to invade a nation of shopkeepers. Grimacing grey~it stands sentry duty~outside the window. Nodding solemnly at passersby~coughing up daybreak. Alas a good peek at it costs a crick in the neck and requires a black belt~in yogurt~and yoga. In committee~as a point of order~they like to partake in particular afternoon Tealeaf Darjeeling~mashed up with mushies~an altogether uplifting brew. Rhapsodic bone china teapot~pinkies correctly half~cocked haute qualité~like royalty~out on the balcony awaiting Monsieur Guillotine “I say old cock~I spy the universe~is that your octopus~she’s a belter ain’t she? I see she has the same trouble with trousers~as I do Too many legs and not enough outlets~Outstanding!” Snorting speed keeps them tickety-boo~chewing their way~through the wee small hours coming down~decompressed mess~liquidation~fire sale reduction Whizzing the kitchen~possessed greyhounds on heat~chasing imaginary pigeons. Ergo we finds them cleaning Kalashnikovs at four in the morning predawn~revolutionary~hose down . Auntie Unseen materialises bearing baked goods~on the cadge~for spare ammo. She brings her cat Ché~and her Union Jack pillow~they play roulette russe~naked and blindfold. Click! spin~pass the molotov gin bottle~Petrushka ya ya petroleum flash bang~”mind the bleedin’ windows!~I just cleaned them, this morning!” she laughs at a pair of pin striped flannelette knickers~being shredded for fuse. Pink~lace edged~knee high kickers gusseted in baby boy blue. “Vive la fuckin Révolution!” she croons~ cackling her false teeth across the room “Vive la Crone!” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Auntie Unseen “ See~That wasn’t so bad was it? Off you go kids, get some fresh air, be back before dark…you know that I loves ya! “
Inside every suburban house, a nightmare, yeah, I’ve shared a few. Thought I’d share this one with you…do pass it along if you feel so inclined…😉 thanks as always for reading…Sea 😘 Vive la Révolution!
Top Photo by Josh Cea on Unsplash
2nd Photo by Abigail Stone on Unsplash