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Bleat pt1

Arthur turned left and right in his bed all night, his sweat soaked pillow sticking to his face with a greasy adhesive. He was not to give up on his sleep however. Convinced that the trick lay in getting the shape of his syrupy pillow just right, he straightened up and attempted squishing it to what seemed to him at the time to be a more sleep suited ergonomic shape. The exercise proved to be futile, as the silhouette  of his cranium seemed to have hardened itself to a rough crust over the doughy eiderdown. He thought once more about the increasing urgency of piled up laundry. ‘The secret to a productive life lies in a good night’s sleep’ he said to himself. ‘How can I have a good night’s sleep with filthy bedsheets? Impossible!’. He figured the hastiest solution to his problem would be to get a quick nightcap, who needs sleeping pills when you have whisky? Laundry can wait until tomorrow.

He pulled his naked body out of the sheets. One hand thrusting his body out of bed, the other rubbing his brow as he let out a gentle yawn. He moved over towards the desk where his bottles sat, his mouth anticipating the sharp peaty goodness that is about to roll down his tongue. He downed the glass with one short gulp and carried himself over to the bathroom.

The previous tenants had decided it would be a good idea to cover an entire wall of the bathroom from waist up with a giant mirror. Although it was a brilliant idea in terms of giving the cramped room a much needed sense of space, Arthur found it to be rather too indulging. He always found himself standing opposite to it while looming over the toilet. Each time he  had to make note of averting his eyes from his own reflection. He imagined the previous tenant indulging in his own sight as he was taking a piss. When he first moved in he thought that this would bring a whole new sense of delight to fucking in the shower, he had at the time failed to factor in how quickly the tiny space got steamed up. He shook his penis until he made sure that the last drop was all well and gone, the last thing he needed to stain his filthy bedsheets was little droplets of urine.

He got himself back to his living room, hesitated for a moment before choosing to go to bed or spending a few aimless minutes in front of his computer. He opted for the latter and lodged himself in front of the cold blue glow of the screen. Soon after smoking a cigarette he figured this won’t be an early night and made his way to the fridge, hoping to find something surprising that he had forgotten he had.

Seeing a fully grown ram sucking on a long filtered cigarette with a fedora nested between his horns was not what he had in mind for a surprise. His muscles spasmed in an instant, neurones in his brain  bursted with alarming activity sending messages all over him to back off and get into a defensive stance. He took a leap backwards, his eyes fixed on the creature. His bare back against the cold surface of the wall, hands placed in front  of his face like a goal keeper focused on the ball coming towards him as if his life depended on catching it.

His eyes ran across the flat at a split second, to identify if there were any more of the creatures hiding elsewhere, waiting to get their chance for an ambush. Having identified no such danger he turned his gaze back on the ram who was now smoking his cigarette with astonishing nonchalance, he seemed to be waiting until Arthur came back to his senses. After he was satisfied that Arthur was ready for the next stage of shock, he spoke out…

“Well aren’t you gonna let me in?”

To be continued…


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