Listen to Black Eye  - read by the author

 

It wasn't meant to come across like that. She took it the wrong way. But I don't blame her. We're cruel to one another.

She said I had breath that would strip wallpaper. Knowing she was sensitive about her moles, I said she looked like Lemmy without the beard. She brought up the passport photographs that were rejected because of the glare from my bald spot. I ripped into her Dee Dee Ramone haircut. She said I was hung like a prawn and was going to tell everyone - so if you've heard the prawn cock tale, it's from her. I said she had an orange peel arse.

Violence was on the cards. No question.

This morning she pinned me down before I could get out of bed.

'Let me tell you about my dream,' she said. 'I dreamt that I went downstairs and fed the cat and washed the dishes. Then I took the carpets up and arranged the tins in the cupboard according to their sell by dates. What do you think it all means?' she asked.

'That you have no imagination?' I replied.

Hence the black eye and these bags on your doorstep.

Come on. You've got room.

                                              

 © Andrew Michael Hurley 2008