Thursday, 18 October 2012

Shrine


Tony's bedroom was just as he left it all of those months ago, when we had excitedly left our flat in search of some fun in Las Vegas. His bed was unmade, because as he said at the time, he was more interested in boarding our flight to Vegas, than worrying about making sure his bed looked neat and tidy, before leaving for our holiday of a lifetime. I remember that I agreed with him, and told him that an unmade bed is not as bad as what our mothers had made us believe.

Strewn across the bedroom floor were Tony's t-shirts and underpants, together with his much-loved Arsenal shorts, which he had stolen from a sports shop during a Christmastime shoplifting spree. He was really proud of the fact that he had managed to get away with the shorts, without being caught, and said that while he agreed that shoplifting is immoral, he got a real buzz from walking into a shop and helping himself to whatever he wanted.

He had even left an unfinished glass of lager on his bedside table, and after peering into it, I saw that a film of dead insects and mould had started to develop on the surface. All of a sudden I no longer had the urge to go to the pub for a pint of lager, and not wanting to vomit all over myself, I backed away from the table, and continued to look for any cash that Tony may have inadvertently scattered throughout his bedroom, in the same way a squirrel hordes nuts, so in barren times it always has something to eat, and doesn't have to worry about where its next meal is going to come from.

But Tony had left nothing of any value lying around, unless his stash of pornographic magazines had some sort of resale value. But even then, there was no way I was going to touch his magazines, because soiled magazines containing pictures of nude women are on the same level as unfinished glasses of lager.

I kicked one of his socks across the floor and swore loudly. He was in Florida, doing very nicely for himself, and I was in London, doing not very nicely. I then took a final look around his room, and told myself that he wasn't coming back, and that his room was going to stay as he had left it, in the same way that parents leave the rooms of children who are killed in road accidents, or tragic drownings.

It was a shrine.

Dave Cooper feeling terribly lonely, realising that his only friend in the world, Tony, is enjoying a new life in the U.S.A.
Extract taken from "An American Adventure" -By Luke Ryman. Ebook & paperback version available from Amazon.
God Bless America!

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