A rat in the kitchen or my alcoholic pal rob sitting on my toilet, I wonder what I would prefer while I listen to the sounds of his alcoholic induced stinking thin shit pushing itself with sick making revulsive sounds out of his darms, his babbling mouth invading the peacefull thoughts in my Farang mind that is far away, as usual ten or twelve hours flying to the other side of the world, his heavy strong Amsterdam accent, almost incomprehensible to my southern Dutch ears though years of experience has thaught me to make sence of it, drifting out of my bathroom and across my living room, stories from the Brotherhood of Professional Drunks from Westerpark, their trials and jubilations, their fights and endless arguements foremost on his drug and beer destroyed mind...
I know I won't be able to withstand the horrible smells coming from my bathroom for hours after he has left, a green colored five Euro note crumbled up in his massive fist, on his way to the Albert Heyn supermarket, changing my hard earned dough into cheap luke warm pilsener and a Mary-Jane joint in the process...I least I get him out of the house...
Paul's invitation for a couple of beers in Cafe De Wildeman in the carming company of two young Chinese ladies - his first
http://www.couchsurfing.org/ guests - to brighten our male moods, comes in as a welcome surprise...
No comments:
Post a Comment