Moving on from the GB, we stopped for a drink in Hathaways, under the Shakespeare Inn. Rosie had a beer ready and waiting by the time I made it from the door to the bar. She was a big girl. Not exactly pretty. But when it came to serving drinks, she stole the show. Stevie asked for a McEwans, but had to settle for a local draught.
He thanked me for my sacrifice.
“Another one,” I replied. “This was worse than dying. At least that could be fixed.”
“Future generations will sing your name.”
“Fuck future generations.”
“Look, I’m sorry for what you had to go through.” He took a drink. Reconsidered. “Actually, no, I’m not. Because it was necessary. In the greater scheme of things. And you needed it. Was time for a wake-up call. You were starting to stagnate. Something had to rip you out of your comfort zone, get you moving towards the next part of your life, before you became another statistic and burned out on the streets.”
“Christ, couldn’t you have just pretended to mug me behind a Korner Mart, and stolen my drivers license?”
“Do you have a drivers license?”
“I’m not allowed to talk about it.”
Extract from Burning Roses, a decadent tale of sex, drugs, rock n roll & magick. Available on Amazon. Also available in paperback.
And on Amazon.co.uk.
Catch me at Cosmic Comics on Sunday the 28th to get signed copies of my 4 published books (including the newly-printed Tales From The Crying Room – paperback available ONLY in South Africa).
Anyone in Durban this week who wants a paperback copy of any of my books – send me a FB message and I’ll see what I can do.
Till next time.
Cheers.
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