I’d gone into every grotty gin joint in town. And this last one is the grottiest.
The singer, Devizes Wiltshire, normally not very good yet still the ultimate professional, has managed to get herself caught up in the stage lighting – not a good look. Still, she’s carrying on, give ‘er credit. She is committin’ murder on the stage though. She’s murderin’ my favourite song.
Told you this place is grotty.
Over by the bar I see ‘Ewt fer Newt’ ‘Ickling, filling ‘is face with leftover food from the kitchen. There’s no tellin’ ‘ow long it’s been there but he doesn’t care. Whoops. His maud Maude has interfered with ‘is eatin’. He’s not too pleased.
There’s a silhouette in front of the window. Well, everyone’s a silhouette in ‘ere. The windows are that filthy and the streetlight right outside is way too bright, nothin’s that clear.
I’m looking to see a man about a dog. I am. Literally. Aman. I thought I saw ‘im sittin’ next to Ewt fer Newt’s Maude, but it wasn’t ‘im.
At least I’ve found ‘is dog though. I’ll tell ‘im when I find him.
I’ll look for ‘im again tomorrow.
***
Earlier today I posted my entry for One Word Sunday:
I did some serious tweaking of the image, I must admit, using the editing tools on my mobilius phonius, but even after all that I still think it’s obviously the interior of a cardboard box.
But from the inside of the cardboard box, I thought outside of it and came up with the short story above. My mind takes me to the oddest of places at times! All fun though!
The Mansionic Perspective 
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