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Great Writing - Home > Extended > English Slacker chapter thirty-five
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Extended Work
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| English Slacker chapter thirty-five | |
| By chrismorton | ||||
| 22 July 2008 | ||||
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I woke up on the beach. It was dark, like black. I rolled over and looked at my watch and it said, one o’clock. I could hear the sound of wind and of the sea. I lay there for a bit, looking around for the four robots I’d just been dreaming about (although at that moment I wasn’t totally sure what the hell was going on) but they were nowhere to be seen so I rolled over, found my tobacco and started to roll a fag, wondering why the hell I’d been looking around for four robots in the first place and then remembering the dream. I got to my feet and sparked up. Everything was really black: Except for the end of my cigarette, glowing in the darkness. I stood there trying to put my head together, attempting to make sense of images of a man called Tim passing me a joint, a girl with red hair telling me to go outside, an image of Skipton as a nuclear waste dump, a small girl called Jessica quietly watching TV, the sound of Charlotte laughing, a fat Indian man smiling at me while handing me my receipt, a far away view of people drinking out of wine bottles and beer cans on a beach, four robots telling me to follow them ‘cause they needed my help, Duncan asking me if I was okay… I looked around me, at the sea, the moon, then remembered about the beach party and the fire and looked over towards Bracksea beach but I couldn’t see hardly anything. Even Bracksea itself was almost invisible. I said, “Everyone’s sleeping,” to myself, and laughed a bit before looking at my watch again and it was still one o’clock and I said (again to myself), “Time for bed,” and started properly laughing; really loud and that. My shoes were off for some reason. They were lying on the floor next to me and I put them on, singing this Pearls song to myself, It’s Up To You When You Want; the one which Graz had once before described as the, “Perfect summer anthem,” or something like that. The chorus is:
We’ll have a Southward-facing garden
That’s what you want for me They’ll see a Southward-facing garden Five times the man I used to be I want a Southward-facing garden It’s what you want for me They’ll see a Southward-facing garden We’ll have your friends around for tea (Pretty shit I know, but that’s The Pearls for you.) So I was singing that as I put on my shoes and got to my feet and started to kinda labour along the beach path still singing, still feeling pretty messy, still on my mission to get to Bracksea while there was still the chance of finding a beach party to go to.
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