Stories and Paintings
LaShawn listened with neither a word nor a judgmental look for ten minutes while I expressed my bamboozlement and displeasure. I marched about the living room, frustration causing my arms to flail and my voice to reach shrieking pitch at least thrice (that’s one, Rory). At the end of my miserable tirade, LaShawn just... Continue Reading →
I sat there beside the shed in increasing panic, staring at my right foot. It was smurf blue. My shoe and sock were removed—how and to where I didn’t know—and my pants were cut off at an angle, just above my ankle. They were perfectly cut, too—not a frayed thread. The skin on my... Continue Reading →
The train ride from the airport was pleasant to begin with; outside the window, white clouds drifted through blue skies, while frangipanis bloomed amid the trees whizzing by. Rory regaled me with humorous stories from his prison stay—the humour was black, of course. Very black. The inventiveness of some of the prisoner suicides disturbed me.... Continue Reading →
After we passed through customs, Rory said he was peckish, so he and I stopped at a little airport coffee shop plastered with Italian flags and paintings of the Colosseum, called Caffè di Venezia. Rory ordered a ham and cheese croissant, Vegemite toast, bacon and eggs and an orange juice; I ordered a chocolate milkshake.... Continue Reading →
After Rory’s prison escape, we drove to his uncle’s house, where we caught a few hours’ sleep. Uncle Des woke us at six, and we dined on toasted cheese sandwiches. (Rory ate six of them and kept raving about how good they were. They were okay; Rory had barely eaten in five weeks, so anything... Continue Reading →
In the timid glow of my rental car’s stereo display I watched the night outside. It was dark—too hopeless even for stars. A sliver of moon now and then appeared through the drifting sea of clouds, painting a pale silver outline on the treetops. Behind the giant relic projector screen, the forest grew unchecked, as... Continue Reading →
“Man’s most striking shortcoming is his eagerness to convince himself of nonsense. This is also his greatest strength.” —Elroy “Bubba” Fowpend From diverse eyewitness accounts, unsteady video footage, police reports, second-hand gossip and my own hazy recollections, I have painstakingly reassembled the events of Rory’s fortieth-birthday weekend. It is what it is. I got... Continue Reading →
It was my first overseas trip on official duty. I had been called up at the last minute to act as the Prime Minister's key adviser in Western Africa. In Senegal, after a warm welcome and sightseeing tour, things cooled at the negotiating table. Both leaders, usually calm under pressure, began shouting and slamming their... Continue Reading →
