Stay out of jail

“You a cop?” After our previous run-in, I wasn’t in the mood to help the boys in blue. Then again, I can’t remember a single moment when I was in such a mood. I’d had various encounters over the years, from being searched on the street, to having my bedroom ransacked by the occult crimes division, to being told (on numerous occasions) to turn down my music. And waking up to find police cars parked across the street, waiting for me to turn the music up again.

Then there was the famous birthday party in a friend’s flat, where I was passed out on the floor, headbutting the carpet in time to the new Metallica album, and the neighbours downstairs decided to complain about the noise. The police who’d responded to that call couldn’t understand why I had carpet burns on my forehead, or why no-one was trying to stop me.

“Private investigator. Client’s hired me to look into the whereabouts of his daughter.”

I played two shots, carefully this time, and managed to clear the table. As the black sank into a corner pocket, my opponent shrugged and moved towards the bar, digging in his pockets for change.

“Typical. Some bird goes missing, and I get the blame.”

Extract from Burning Roses, a decadent tale of sex, drugs, rock n roll & magick, set in the clubs and bars of 1980s Johannesburg. Available on Amazon.

Or in paperback from Curiosity in Pretoria, and The Real Mackay in Blairgowrie.

And throughout the festive season, you’ll also find my books in Shop A at Chameleon Village, at The Alternative Geeks Artist Alley, running from the 14th of December to the 12th of January. They’ll be sharing a table with a handful of other local authors’ books.

Till next time.

Cheers.