Hangover. Oh, this is the worst. Some sort of street party last night. Went on for ever. People twirling, running, jumping. So much shouting, noise and colour. Flashes, bangs. This is a lovely town but they don’t need to fire guns so much. It may be fun but bullets can kill. There are still people here but they all look exhausted, lying around, some of them tangled together. Lovers probably, that sort of thing.
Food … gods I’m hungry.
My mind is sluggish, hazy, not many thoughts. Where am I? On a bridge, a long, long bridge. I smell sea. Gulls are screeching, up and down everywhere, in bunches, bothering people. They’re so bold.
I’m lonely too. When was the last time I hugged somebody? I’d love that right now, to hug people, lots of them, hundreds. I really like people.
I can smell food but at this time in the morning it’ll probably be yesterday’s. I like fresh food. There’re bound to be some stalls, shops, restaurants at the other end of this bridge. I can imagine wringing out a blue steak and dripping the juice into my mouth.
Melon, water melon … and those yellow ones, honey-something. I could just bite through the skin and suck and suck. That’s why people have teeth. No, the rind would be too thick. Teeth are sharp, really sharp – I love that – but not strong enough. What I’ll do is get a melon and smash it and smash it so hard … and suck all the lovely flesh and juice. I like sucking melons.
I wish I could walk faster but my right leg is numb. Maybe I slept on it. I’m slowed down but everything will improve, no doubt.
Have I not reached the end of this bridge yet? It’s so long and long and far and far.
There’s someone sitting, propped up against their car and feeding the birds. How seagulls squabble and fight. I wouldn’t put up with them getting that close, jumping on me and flapping around. He sits so still despite one on his head, pecking at him. Some people are weird.
Coconuts. Oh, coconuts. I want a whole stall of them. I’d buy the lot. Smash the shells and suck all the milk out, crunch the flesh which gets stuck in your teeth. That’s why we have fingernails.
Teeth and nails, I have everything I could possibly need except melons and coconuts. Oh, and some lovely people to hug.
I snigger. I’ve just imagined a coconut with two cherries in its shell. I’d suck both out and gulp them down.
I’m so hungry! I am the definition and celebration of appetite.
My leg is still numb. It’s irritating but I’ll still get over or between these cars. It’s probably something to do with the celebrations – people have parked their vehicles right across the end of the bridge.
The first I encounter is a white van, the side booming as I hit it. Funny, it doesn’t move out of the way. I bang harder.
There’re people at last! People I can hug and be friends with. Only … why do they have melons instead of heads?
There are two coconut-melon-head-people behind a car. One has a shotgun which roars. I stagger back. It feels like someone slammed a door on my chest.
The other person shouts, “In the head – shoot it in the head, moron.” She cocks her lever-action carbine and points it at me. “Like this.”
©Gary Bonn, 2019