#10 Proof Music

       "It's so nice here, I can't believe it, let's have another!"

They laughed and called the other two over. 

        "Want more?"

Chucko lined up the little glasses in a neat row and poured out four perfectly measured shots.  "Chin chin!"

All expertly downed in one.

       "Woah, brain freeze!"

       "You okay Alice?  It's good isn't it?"

        "Amazing, yeah, another?"

         "One more then – oh, careful mate!"

The bottle had crashed to the ground splintering glass over the tiles.  Across the bar, heads were shaking at the way people couldn't control themselves, knocking back the drinks until they started knocking them off the counters. With a jolt, Alice remembered she was supposed to be in the middle of serving; Jane and Dave were still standing there waiting!

       "Shorry about thish, but I've eh forgotten again, whaddahya wan again?" She breathed her words through sozzled slurs that smelt of 50% proof. 

Jane whispered to Dave "I'm sick of this, I'm leaving the country!" 

     

 "I said two tap waters, no ice.  A pint of coke, two orange juices one with ice, one with orange slices no ice, one glass of cranberry with sparking water," Dave told Alice in a loud, unsmiling voice.

Alice squealed and jumped.  Chucko had crept up behind and squeezed the flesh above her ample hips getting her ticklish bits, skipping off before she could retaliate.  She tried to resume her composure and zigzagged her way over to the fridges to collect the drinks, but she emitted a loud snorty snigger as soon as her back was turned to the punters.  What did they want again?  Oh no, the giggles were back…

#9 Echo Music

Hannan stared into the dirty shaving mirror and groaned.  She hadn't had those terrible brown bags under her eyes last July; crescent shaped endurance awards hanging from her lower lids announcing "Worse Summer Ever: Gold Winner".  Depressingly, she thought how refreshed she ought to be looking for this first day back at teaching.  Was a face like this really worth the approximate £34, 658.08 she would be paid this year? 

She turned off the hot tap and threw handfuls of ice cold water onto her eyes.  What a terrible mistake. She still couldn't believe she'd gone hiking alone in Romania without knowing about the wild dogs. Drying her face she looked down at her legs.  Yes they were still there, despite the beast's attempts to gnaw them off her.  The shepherd had said afterwards that she was lucky.  Lucky! All that was left of the attack now though, was a constellation of small red dots on each leg where the beast's teeth had pierced her skin, and, a tendency to tremble like jelly in an earthquake at sudden sounds such as a dog barking, or any animal making any noise, or the doorbell, or the kettle switching off, or a text arriving, or someone calling out "hello" (not necessarily to her) in the street, or the sound of a letter dropping through the letter box (either in her flat or at the neighbour’s above), or fridge noises in the night, or brakes squeaking in the car park  below her windows, or announcements in the supermarket.  Maybe she wasn't ready for school, maybe should have asked for sick leave.

Hannan's colleague Simon was already on his way to the school.  He thought he'd get in early to top up his caffeine levels in the staffroom.  He'd been up most of the night with insomnia.  Usually he slept like a baby; his lovers always commented how suddenly he'd tip into sleep with no warning.  But not now, he felt completely changed and all in the space of a few summer weeks.  It was bad to be out of the house.  He had become fixated on typing different combinations of similar words into his search engine: "adult child of deceased polygamist support group", "sudden knowledge my father was a polygamist but my mother does not know support group", "new half siblings at age 40, dead father a waste of space forum".

Brendon, also on his way to the school, was still thinking about the only thing he'd thought about for two weeks now.  His tan was fading but his memory (however reliable that was) wasn't.  Like a mantra from a horror film, his mind played out the sequence of events; that morning with its stark white sky, he was on the way to the airport back home, lowering the suitcase into the boot of the hire car, walking round to the driver's door and then seeing the streak of cracked red something along the lower edge of the windscreen and across part of the bonnet, the breath rushing out of him as he realised it was blood, then trying...trying.... to recall what happened the night before on his way back to the villa, trying to work out how drunk had he been, trying to remember everything.  Oh god! What if he'd killed someone?  But he had no memory at all of any crash or incident on the road.  So now, his waking moments were plagued and he was also living with the fear that at anytime there would be a knock at his door.  The word extradition echoed round his head. 

      "You're so brown Brendon!  And Hannan! How wonderful to see you!  How are you both? Long holiday, eh?"  Simon shook Brendon's hand warmly and gave Hannan a hug, chuckling.  The three grinning teachers strode enthusiastically through the school gates towards the staff room.

©LolaPerrin2010

#8 Grace Music

The group was tired.  What had seemed impossible to achieve at the beginning of the first week was still proving impossible near the end of the second. 

Elaria was beside herself.  Never had she seen a clumsier group of men. They were oafs.  They had no idea how to use their bodies.  Their alignment!  

      "Échappé, I said!" she spat.  "Try!  One more time." She demonstrated the delicate maneuver with precise control.

         "From fifth position out to second. We will commence from the slow arabesque over your logo, through the enchaînement which, as we have been rehearsing for absolument days on end, is to pass all the way through to the exhaust replacement and beyond that to the wheel change, and then finally extend into the échappé that symbolises completion of entire pit sequence, so hold, hold, hold!  Now, to the arabesque; upper body straight, left leg stretched out to the left, turn it out and remember, respect the Renault!  So, on the count of three…."

The rehearsal pianist resumed dreamy impressionistic French music but it was barely audible over the thumping of the men stumbling around in their pointe shoes.  Loud cracks from sacs of synovial fluid releasing gas inside knee and ankle joints cut through the confusion; several of the men could do with an emergency course of fish oil and an osteopath.   

Elaria was disgusted.

      "The only grace here is the saving grace of your Sponsor who, after observing your training yesterday, has thankfully extended it," sneered the Grande Dame, surveying the chaos of the men attempting to disentangle their limbs from around the car and bracing themselves for more vitriol from her mean and violent tongue.  

©LolaPerrin2010

#7 Breakfast Music

      "What would you like on your wheat flour, water , yeast , fermented wheat flour,  salt, vegetable fat , emulsifiers E471, E472e , flour treatment agent: ascorbic acid, vegetable oil,E481, preservative calcium propionate (added to inhibit mould growth), vitamin C, spirit vinegar, (mono- and di-acetyltartaric esters of mono- and di-glycerides of fatty acids), calcium propionate,temptext2, flavouring, extracts derived from natural  fermentation, wholemeal flour, kibbled malted wheat ,sugar, wheat protein , malted barley flour, vinegar, 61% wholegrain wholemeal kibbled malted wheat, malted barley flour, linseed, cracked wheat ,toasted kibbled soya ,wheat protein, vegetable fat, temptext0temptext1 ,wheat gluten, barley malt flour, oatmeal(13%), wheat bran ,wheat gluten and muscovado sugar this morning darling?  Toasted plain with butter, or something else to jazz it up a little?"

©LolaPerrin2010

 # 6 Park Music

     "I am going to sue you, you complete imbeciles!"

      "Calm down, calm down."

     "Where is she?  She should have been in every single one of these photographs!"

His voice was shaking.

       "Where is she?  Look, why is she not on the bench?  And not in front of that fountain?  And not next to those roses?  When I took the pictures she was in them, in every single one, that's why we went to the park in the first place!"

        "Calm yourself.  Are you sure?  What is her name then?"

         "That's none of your business.  And that's not the point. I wanted to get prints for once because these are my last photographs of her!"

        "Ah, your last?  How so?"

        "She left me just after."

        "Well, obviously she not only left the photographer, but also the photographs.  This is the digital age you know.  Where have you been since 2030?

         "Huh?"

©LolaPerrin2010

#5 Harmonious Music

    "This is a bit embarrassing," whispered Loosey, who'd changed the spelling of her name by deed poll, (but that's another story), "I don't know where to start."

Karl performed a deep and harmonious cough, almost completely in tune with itself and sounding like a band of gypsies blowing medieval pipes from within his lungs.  Loosey estimated the chord was closest to Eb with a fourth.   After momentarily pausing to splutter the single utterance, "Quite!", Karl produced a further offering; this time varied enough in pitch and tone to score for an expanded orchestra.  Simultaneously, he fished a hard sweet from his pocket.  Placing it inside his mouth inside the beard he began to suck hard, and this seemed to do the trick. 

 

A silence fell giving both the chance to take stock and examine the neutral territory, sparse but for the circle of white plastic chairs placed around the centre of the room.

    "Well, let's start by sitting comfortably."

This was tough.  They knew they were due for an argument; it was probably easy once they'd managed to locate the first words.  Loosey wished she wasn't such a failure that it had come to this, and Karl wished he could smoke.  Awkwardly, they settled into two random chairs.

    "It's pretty obvious neither of us have done this before.  They didn't match us very well did they?  Would have been better if we weren't both newbies."

     "Let's make the best of it shall we?"  Loosey was getting frustrated.  "How about we begin the way they suggested, look what it says here…" She was pointing to the literature they'd been handed at reception, "get into the mindset of your friends who regularly argue; if necessary role play and become those friends. Well, I'll think of Melly and Mit.  I've known them for years; they told me their arguments could be scripts by Beckett, or Bleasdale. "

Karl didn't respond.  She tried again.

     "Well, who will you think of then?"

     "I shall think of my two fish.  And of my vet."

Loosey really couldn't stand him one more minute; he was so difficult!

     "As you wish.  And what shall we argue about?  They didn't give any tips on that bit, did they?"

A silence fell once again, for a long time this time.  A clock on the wall began to tick loudly.

     "Depressing isn't it?  I don't know about you, but-"

She broke off.  Her words were getting lost under a new outbreak from Karl.

       "- I don't know about you but…." Loosey was almost having to shout over his agitated concerto for trombone and timpani, "but it looks like I can't even have a good argument with someone, let alone find the perfect person to share my life with. I'm cancelling my subscription!  To hell with their crummy advertising, it doesn't work.  You can only really have a proper fight with someone you already love."  

Loosey screamed the last words as loud as she could while Karl's coughing threatened to consume them, before slamming the door as she took off, resigning herself to a life of not discordant singledom.

©LolaPerrin2010

#4 Escher Music

Shaken by what had happened, he had wandered outside, preferring to be in the street for a relaxing smoke when, in the descending dusk, he stumbled on a discarded mattress and as he tried to catch his balance he was overcome by a particularly bad attack of angina which caused him to drop down dead, right there on the mattress, in between the two derelict shops opposite the Gold Store.  John, who was pacing nearby, imploring whoever it was at the other end of the phone to help him find a certain Freddie, so engrossed was he in describing all the bad that Freddie had meted upon him that he walked clean into the just dead Desmond; falling over him and then onto him, his phone dropping from his hand and sliding across the street.  Young Rick, who had been hanging around for an opportunity, seized the opportunity and pounced upon the approaching handset then sprinted down to the end of the road, leaping over the barrier and legging it to the left, hopping onto a bus just in time.  As the doors closed, one glanced his right temple, traditionally a reliable trigger for his hyperactive Vegus nerve, and accordingly he fainted on the spot, crumpling into a heap and taking Monica down with him.  Monica who always wore heels was, on this occasion, wearing possibly the world's sharpest stilettos which came to rest on Gloria's shopping, or more specifically, inside the shopping bag which contained the olive oil.  The force of Young Rick's fall had caused one of Monica's heels to pierce Gloria's discount plastic olive oil bottle, and the contents surged out, under and beyond Monica, down towards the exit.  The driver had left the back doors open due to the commotion caused by Young Rick's fainting, and Blow decided to get the hell out of there in case any uniforms appeared.  He met with the river of oil which effectively expedited his exit from the bus.  Blow slipped forth towards a parked Toyota upon which he duly landed, but suddenly it wasn't so parked anymore, rather it was taking him sightseeing towards the canal.  Farah had only recently passed her driving test and had yet to master the skill of negotiating the rush hour with a drug dealer on her bonnet. She screeched to a halt propelling Blow off the car and into the water. His landing was dramatic and its splash extensive, reaching as far as the far side of the canal and onto the plates of the diners enjoying their business's annual bonding barbeque in the comfort of their local gastro pub's heated beer garden.  The sudden appearance of much water on Gwen's plate, as she was returning to her seat from the barbeque buffet, caused within her the reflex of letting go and the plate took off, Frisbee-like, across the canal, through an open window and landed on the kitchen table of a smoker who was about to light up.  "Is nowhere safe anymore?"  he was heard to exclaim. Shaken by what had happened, he wandered outside, preferring to be in the street for a relaxing smoke.

©LolaPerrin2010