If Monkeys had primetime TV…..

A new section that will feature heavily, is a serialisation of a tale that has had tongues wagging in non-literary circles. It has been shrouded in the same mystery as the Lost civilisation of the Inca’s and the truth behind Michael Jacksons Kiddy fundays.

A story that envelopes love, intrigue, murder, psychology, human nature, hate, death, intolerance, big arabs, euphoria, stilt-walking, obsession, compulsion, revulsion, emulsion, space-travel, the meaning of life, culture, language, international politics and the thirteen different kinds of rye in Bavaria and will leave you questioning if you are really alive or just living in some sort of drug-induced spatial dispensation from the normal space-time matrix (look it up).

first a disclaimer, all characters are mine and made up. They ARE based on amalgamations of people i have met, people on tv, people i’ve read about…its called a collective subconscious ok? we are a product of our experiences, and our imagination is a pool of all that knowledge so anyone i offend can try and grow a sense of humour. unless i called you a c**t

ok it goes like this…..

ThE DOcTOr PArt oNE
——————————

Take off. It had been a particularly calming day and the prospect of tackling the earths spin head-on via transatlantic flight tickled my jazz-bone. I made my way absently to A terminal at AN airport, i forget which, but that information, including the country i was currently residing in, has no meaning for me now.

Despite a brief stop at a newsagents to buy some cream for my leg, (which had been particularly burdened recently by its own sense of inadequacy due to the impending travel arrangements), the transfer of myself and the 17 specifically chosen items to this Dutch airlines flagship had been trouble free…and more importantly accident free. The staff on the plane all had strangely semi-circular faces that i was sure i had dreamt about before, I inevitably experienced that feeling of recognition that triggered an ineffectual attempt to counter the mind’s own sentient failsafes.

Their oddly proportioned visages soon began to disturb me deeply. Soon i felt the first creeping tendrils of an attack, but this soon faded as the cramped clink of the drinks trolley approached, bringing with it the ephemeral face-twitching that revealed to me all of the closet claustrophobics in the vicinity. The 7% of the population that denied their susceptibility to apparently ‘common’ psyhcological disorders. The 7% that in turn drove the said disorder to the recesses of the psyche where it festered and mutated until manifesting itself as the facial tic that was currently contorting the muscles in the upper lip of the young woman that i found myself observing from across the aisle……….

—————————————————————————

more next week!

Advertisements