Stories and Paintings
Between LaShawn’s fingers oozed a greyish yellow goo. “See,” he said, holding the goo out for me to inspect, “no blood.” I leaned in and peered at the strange substance, then poked it with my finger. “Huh,” I said. “It’s like dough, runny dough.” “Exactly. No brains, no fragments of skull, just this stuff.”... Continue Reading →
We made a frantic exit stage right and bolted. LaShawn and I ran for the trench at the back of the yard, while Rory and Budgie split from us and made for the hills. I didn’t see where Nils went. Gunfire barked and whirred all around, interspersed with shouts and screams. The machine gun... Continue Reading →
A spurt of metallic barking shattered the moment, and three bullets smashed into the base of the stage. Any higher and they would have taken out Nils. I froze in terror, wishing not to die, not just yet. “Who was that?” demanded one of the men in black. He stepped forward from the line.... Continue Reading →
There was some mild applause from the crowd. I held down a soft D major chord, making an unattractive key change from the B-flat I had been playing during the introduction. LaShawn brought in a steady rhythm on the hi-hat cymbals. Budgie gave one of the tuning knobs on his guitar a hearty random... Continue Reading →
The combination of the crowd’s rapturous cheering and the overpowering green glare of an overhead stage light had me momentarily stupified. Lifting my hand to shield my eyes, I found my way behind Budgie’s guitar amp and to the keyboard. I adjusted the microphone stand in front of me. On the keyboard’s electronic display,... Continue Reading →
With speed and precision that would impress any seasoned roadie, Rory and Budgie rushed back and forward between the garage and the stage in the backyard, moving in total six amplifiers, three guitars, two distortion pedals, two microphones, two microphone stands, one keyboard, one keyboard stand, a five-piece drum kit, four cymbals, one drum... Continue Reading →
Ten minutes passed in our small concrete fortress. The air was stuffy. Sweating my arse off under the afternoon sun had gifted me a noticeably stale aroma. Even Rory, usually anointed with a subtle touch of top-shelf aftershave, now had a whiff of old cheese about him. It added an extra unpleasantness to an... Continue Reading →
We spent the next hour and a half setting up weapons, hiding spots, booby traps, decoys and ammunition stashes. Not all of it made sense to me. Budgie spent nearly the entire time—and time was a precious and fleeting resource—up on the roof installing an antenna. Surely with a platoon of British gang members... Continue Reading →
I assumed this whole British-mafia-boss-coming-to-murder-my-best-friend thing was one of LaShawn’s odd jokes. I don’t always get jokes. I stared at him, awaiting an explanation, but he just nodded, then went and crouched between two nearby bushes and looked about in the fallen leaves and dirt like he was trying to find a lost contact... Continue Reading →
I look forward to attending your 40th birthday celebration. Biscuits —The RSVP reply from Jimmy “Biscuits” O’Shea to Rory’s birthday invitation. Received 15th July 2019. © 2021 MILES VENISON ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
