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The Cockroach

The sign reads “Right of admission reserved. No under 18’s. I.D. required. No baseball caps.” It’s a seedy bar on Main Road, Bomb Bay. The bouncer won’t let Hilton in because of his Pagad cap. Arsehole. It’s not that Hilton’s affiliated to any gang, it’s just that he’s embarrassed about going bald. The doorman will not give in so Hilton chucks.

Sugar Man needs a bitterly cold Castle to wet his whistle. The barmaid is a grim looking mummy straight out of Hammer horror flicks. Two amahoeries at the opposite end of the counter give him the eye. They’re not in luck, he only wants Castle.

I down the first one, order the second. Notice the so-called black and so-called white guys to the right of me. A cockroach scurries on the bar counter between them. The so-called white peers intently at the cockroach. The so-called black stares out, emphatically ignoring his surroundings.

“Howzit?”

No reply. Who’s the so-called white oke talking to? Me? Or the so-called black oke?

The so-called white oke blows onto the cockroach.

“Friend of yours?”

This time he turns slightly towards the so-called black oke. Still no reply. He looks back at the cockroach.

“Are you Jewish?”

The so-called black oke holds up his whisky glass, taps it with his keys and smiles at the cockroach.

“What happened to the so-called wine glasses?”

It’s true. He’s drinking red wine out of a whisky glass. It must be the apocalypse.

The so-called white oke tunes the barmaid.

“Can I have two beers take away?”

Once he’s gone the so-called black oke turns to me and smiles.

“Did you hear that the mark of the messiah is that he would be born with club feet?”

“I don’t follow politics.”

He cracks up.

“I like you.”

“I don’t like you!”

For some reason he thinks I’m joking. Laughs and laughs. Goes as far as to buy me a drink. That I can’t say no to. Castle.

We sit for a while in silence. The cockroach doesn’t budge an inch. The bar maid comes over to the so-called black oke, bends over the counter, her face almost touching his.

“Tell the truth. Are you still scared of the police?”

He grins, glad of her attention.

“I’m fine thanks and yourself?”

She turns away haughtily and marches to the other end of the bar where the amahoeries are still eyeing me. I finish my Castle, stand up to go. Tune the so-called black oke;

“Hymie gets a job circumcising elephants. His dad asks if the job’s well paid. Hymie says no, but the tips are very big.”

He laughs, smashes his whisky glass down onto the cockroach.

Outside in the melting summer air I wonder why the moon never gets bored of inspiring lunatics. She’s winking, not just at me, but at every more-than-slightly inebriated deadbeat who doesn’t want to go home. She’s vain you see, she likes the attention.

I cruise up and down Main Road but the streeties are all over twenty.

Shit, that sonofabitch really took the cockroach out!

One time!


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