Zak McKraken and the Alien Mindbenders (note - title has nothing to do with post)
‘He’ll flip ya, He’ll flip ya fer real.’

Which was what my friend always said when he got drunk and the subject of films came up.

Wait, a narrative device! We have arrived part the way into the story. Let’s leave that scene now and go back to the start. We will come back to that scene later.

I had an interview in London and as I live far away from London, I decided to mix business with pleasure and crashed the night before at my mates house and then take the tube into the city. My friend lived in Chorleywood and we had gone out into Watford (!) for a night out. It wasn’t as bad as I expected and there were a number of be-skirted succubae wandering around not so much loose as ‘baggy’.

Anyway it wasn’t the tartish succubae that were the problem but the fact that I was getting increasingly hammered on lots of red wine.

I lost my friend as he was chatting up a girl (doing his impression – see aforementioned literary contrivance) in a random pub. I went outside for some air (actually was sick) and then time and space jogged around me and I found myself on a slip road leading onto the M25. As I didn’t know the address of my friend and as my mobile was the size of a tissue box and had stayed in my friend’s house, I was at a loss. I also didn’t have any money.

Cars were whizzing by me and I was stumbling on the grass verge. It wasn’t pleasant. Then a car stopped for me. ‘Thank fuck for that!’ I thought. It seemed like one of those ancient black Mercedes but I couldn’t really tell and I got in the back and asked the bloke driving if he could take me to Chorleywood as I had lost my friend. He didn’t say anything and we started driving. I asked him if he wanted money, trying to discern the close cropped head of the man. He didn’t reply, rolled down the window, and let fly a veritable sputnik of sputum.

I didn’t say anything after that and sort of fell asleep. I awoke and we were outside my friend’s house and the engine was running. I thanked the man and got out, and knocked on my friend’s door. He opened the door straight away and had been watching me from the side window.

“I was worried sick! How the fuck did you manage to walk all the way here? It’s fucking 5am!” he said.

“No, I got a lift with that bloke, it wasn’t that far.” Pointing in the direction where my driver had gone.

“No mate, I just saw you walking down the hill.”

“Bollocks, look I can’t be arsed I need to go to sleep.”

I went to sleep and overslept and missed my interview but I still got the job. So that was good.

My friend still maintains that I walked back but I swear that someone picked me up.



Actually that wasn’t that great a story was it? Oh fuck it I’ve written it now.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Fri 4 Jul 2008, 11:53, Reply)