Tuesday 6 March 2012

One Absorbent Parasite Per Song by Andrew McCallum Crawford

He picked up the phone. ‘Neh?’ he said.
‘Cut the crap, Dave,’ said the voice on the other end. ‘Speak English.’
This was all he needed. He looked nervously round the room. That hunted feeling. The shutters were closed. ‘How’s it going, Joyce?’ he said.
‘Not good,’ she said. What a surprise. ‘You going down the Astoria?’
‘Don’t think so,’ he said. It was a quick decision.
‘Could you lend me a thousand?’ she said. ‘Just so I can get a Guardian and a coffee.’
Yeah, right. He barely had enough for the rent and she was asking him for a loan? She still owed him from the last time. She was into him for a lot more than a thousand drachmas.
‘Love to help you out, Joyce,’ he said. ‘But like I say, I won’t be in the Astoria.’
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Another git cramps my lifestyle.’
This story has just been published in the March edition of the Scottish literary arts and culture journal, New Linear Perspectives. To read it in its entirety, click here.

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