Its raining again.

and I haven't got a jacket.

Bum.....

I squelch up the road, swigging from a bottle of Imported Russian Vodka (the label says "Not to be taken internally" in Russian...I think people should be told about these things.)

The Australian Lesser Spotted Duck has been hassling me for a job interview for the last 20 minutes. It seems to think I'm a respectable employer (instead of the poor excuse for the existence of humanity that I am)

I turn left onto Lonely Street and head down Memory Lane. I remember when all this was fields and Lonely Way was called Easy Street. The duck agrees and takes a swig from my bottle.

Soon we're joined by an another. He does'nt speak much and he smells, but he's got enough alcohol for all of us so we get along just fine.

"I remember when all this was fields and the sun was much warmer" he muses.

He's right.

We halt under a blue neon street light (I thought they'd become extinct...) The rain cascades down my face and pools in my turn ups (I never did have any dress sense....maybe thats why I'm lonely....Then again, maybe it was the beans)

Across the road stands a busker. He's singing softly to himself...

"BERMUDA TRIANGLE, IT MAKES PEOPLE HmmMMMMMM HHHMMMmmMmMM"

Time to go I think....

So we head for the all night "Eat-U-LIKE" for a double helping of bacteria and fries (They used to be called chips when I was a lad and America was something that happened to other countries)

The waitress seems glad to see us (although I did catch the questioning glance at the duck)

15 minutes and two burgers later, the duck is employed as a plate washer and Mr Other has been sick on the juke box. (Well it was playing 'Bad' by Micheal Jackson at the time, so nobody really blamed him.....I remember when Micheal Jackson used to be black.)

I think my major mistake was having ancestors who thought it would be a great idea to move into a suburban semidetached cave and leave the security of the trees behind.

Or perhaps they never should have left the sanctity of the water. It makes you wonder.....

Returning home for the night ends in an anticlimax (I recall something about REAL climaxes from my youth, but its very hazy....maybe I should drink less)

And as the famous poet once said....

"Here's the story, Its only me. No other place for you to be" (Motorhead - I Got Mine)

Would you want to be somewhere else ?

Just remember that the other place could be dark, lonely and full of small, crawling things.....

Check out the rest of ". . . And Still The Moon"