18.
“Hobby farming isn’t very punk rock,” said Pat.
“You know what he does?” asked Wally, the spike of resentment coming right to the end of his tongue. “He rents the place to schools so the kiddies can come and pet the animals. All this from the man who fronted a band that once opened for Iggy Pop.” Continue reading
16.
Pat hit the street and started walking fast, his mind churning like a cement-mixer. Continue reading
15.
“Where was I?”
“You just told me you’re an alcoholic.”
“Yes. I am. But that’s not the real reason I’m here to see you.”
“Oh?” Helen asked, recrossing her legs. Continue reading
14.
Pat put on his jacket, crammed the paperback into the pocket and crossed the road, entering an Art-Deco building of pale grey stone, its ground-floor windows enclosed by lattices of black iron. Inside, the foyer was cold and still. Continue reading
13.
One of the best things about being in the hospital after crashing his brain was that it reset all his fundamental habits in relation to sleeping and eating. Continue reading
12.
Alan drew closer, grinning, jutting his chin forward. The whiteness of his teeth and the blackness of his pupils held all the light in his face. Pat looked down at the man. Alan had become an earth for all of the dark things that swirled inside him. Continue reading
11.
Johnny turned back to Pat and gave him a disapproving look.
“What?” asked Pat. “Don’t you wish you were twenty-three again?” Johnny muttered and looked away. Pat moved his face, but the smile was still-born. He didn’t remember much of twenty-three the first time, and most of what he could recall, he could do without. Continue reading
10.
Any venue where the punters go specifically for the music, whether it’s dance, rock, or whatever, are always the best places. People in mainstream clubs tend to behave like herd animals; most of the behaviour tends towards rutting and fighting, generally intensified by alcohol. Continue reading
9.
Running was getting easier. To start with, it had been nothing but pain; acid in his muscles, aching in his shins and the abrasion of wind in a breathless throat. Continue reading
Theme Park at its Darkest 