We led on the trampoline as we smoked. Two lost souls bound for a night of intoxicated dexterity with the promise of easy slumber. This always proven hollow by my friends need to awaken just past the break of dawn, back to his upper class lifestyle while I lay in the squalor of my untidy room until late afternoon. A practice almost perfected with the soothing though of a decent coffee and sandwiches to keep me going, a shower always awaits to wash the proverbial grime of the deeds from the night that had passed.
As we were led outside our surroundings suddenly seemed somewhat brighter. I looked over to see my neighbors security light shining upon the large fur tree that stood before us. The light cast shadows from the spiky branches, leaving what looked like menacing faces that stared with enraged expressions, there numbers duplicating as I scanned top to bottom.
“Maybe we should go inside”
I said with my throat bound by fear, it’s pitch squeezed upwards by the amalgamation of terror and anxiety fueled by what I knew his response to be
“Maybe we should go to the pub”
He said with a slight grin
“But yes, definitely inside first”
When we got inside we were welcomed by the taste of beer as we cracked open a new can. We began to prepare. He donned his gloves and held his skateboard eagerly as I whipped my trench-coat over my shoulders. I locked the door as he slammed the board to the floor and began to skate down the road of the desolate village I resided in. The gentle rolling of the wheels sent a wave of bedroom lights to flicker on and off, curious souls overlooked the antics of which they will probably never understand. We swapped between walking and skating, the pair of us useless at it and ever yet entranced by the enjoyment of riding. Needless to say we fell with abrupt force, perhaps due to the beer, smoking or lack of experience… I blame that dastardly stone!
We arrived at the pub, greeted by a taxidermists dream of hanging heads with vacant expressions. Watching eyes fell upon us as we approached the bar. I remember saying something along the lines of:
“I like animals, they’re fun. I want to buy a skull… or make one”
I remember the general confusion of the room, I had probably elevated my voice unnecessarily… again. She asked us what we would like in a strong Irish accent, I tried to read the word ‘Plucking Pheasant’ and failed. I felt more eyes begin to stare as she poured it. My friend suggested we migrate outside after he had foolishly dispersed his coins across the wooden floor. A wave of friendly locals helped him pick them up, nevertheless I also agreed outside was a good idea. We sat and talked for a while as I smoked a cigarette, the feeling of nicotine kicks off the mild sensation of a pint. He turned to me and asked me if we should count our losses with this place and head to The Grog, we downed our drinks and skated towards what we both knew was our last destination of the night.
We walked into the pub, a warm feeling of belonging swept over me as I soaked in the rustic aesthetic and warming sounds of merry singing. We turned the corner to see one of the locals and his shaggy dog sat at the bar. I was welcomed with
“Aaay, the matrix is here!”
In his strong Gloucestershire accent, muffled with intoxication and bound with an air of insincerity which I decided to play along with. I decided to have a drink, I sat next to him and chatted as my friend wandered off to mingle. I do not recall what was said, I only remember a short while after being talked to by an elderly gentleman with crazed eyes but friendly disposition. He hurried me off to the side and sat me down as he began to tell his story. He told me of his old career in the military, how he had taken LSD after arriving off a boat and the seemingly endless walk he endured to his favorite pub. He described the road flowing like liquid and the sound of bikes that flew past in rippling waves. I found it rather difficult to concentrate while my friend began to sing “Space Odyssey” in an octave and pitch so high it would probably feature on a downloadable app for dog training. He howled, thrusting his hips and closing his eyes.
I looked back at the elderly fellow, he was describing how when he reached the bar he was greeted by a large crowd of leather bikers that stormed in. He moved his arms as he described how he stood up and punched one of them and how his victim hit the ground with arms raised as he shouted how they were a group from gay pride looking to have a drink. I started to spill my drink as I drank, clearly doing so too quickly causing it to pour down either side and onto my shirt and lap. I looked over to see the oldboy from the bar standing on the skateboard as my friend started to hopelessly chat up the barmaid.
I remember grabbing a table, dragging it towards the centre of the pub and yelling for others to assist me. Within seconds we had a game which I call ‘try not to break your face’… There were some losers. I recall skating down the tables, led on my stomach while honking like a penguin as the locals cheered. We rotated the ‘catchers’ at the end. My friend decided in his infinite wisdom to stand, and fair play; he made it two tables before crashing to the ground in a puddle of regret. I looked over at him, in the distance I noticed a woman staring at me. I walked over and asked if she was okay. She said she was fine and that she was the owner, and that we needed to get more tables.
The hours past as we continued to drink and skate until the early hours of the morning. The owner approached me and asked if I was local. I recall asking for a job before running back to the tables, pouring what was left of my pint over myself and riding it to the end. She greeted me while I lay there and told me to be here at 12pm. Success!
I think the moral of the story is… um… well. I think, it is to be yourself. Be yourself and clumsy and you will be rewarded with jobs, beer and a relatively interesting story that you will eventually write about on a blog!