ELOQUENT CATATONIA EXTRACT

UNFINISHED STOREY

Lying on satin sheets in a luxurious and expensive hotel room, Hannah felt like a queen – that was until her punter emerged from the en-suite bathroom, wearing nothing but a coarse sneer and a bath towel around his waist, which held up his paunch but could neither disguise nor suppress his greedy erection. Hannah was unable to sustain a romantic perspective of her surroundings after being force-fed a semen milkshake. How much a night in this lavish cell, with its four-poster bed and extravagant furnishings, would cost made Hannah physically sick. She’d have to be fucked over thirty times before she had enough money to book into this room just for one night. Let’s face it, she thought to herself, I have trouble paying rent on a dingy little bedsit. She resigned herself to the fact she would not be seeing this room again unless some wanker’s small genitals were taking up most of the view.
Twenty-nine blow-jobs and hand-jobs later, however, she scraped enough cash together to book into a posh suite. She could have paid two month’s rent in advance to her landlord, but what the fuck, she thought, I’m fed up of my cheap life being so expensive. I’m going to go out in style.
The servile smile at reception which had greeted her on previous occasions when she was accompanied by rich clients was now replaced by a derisive snigger: Hannah was curtly told there were no vacancies. The key to the room she wanted was still hanging on the wall, so Hannah threatened to reveal to the tabloids their mutual famous customers. The receptionist grimly relinquished the keys of the room to Hannah.
The first thing Hannah did was take a long soak in the marbled bath. What she like about it was its warmth. Her bedsit only had cold running water. Bathing back at the bedsit only made her feel dirtier, not that she was taking a bath here to cleanse herself – that task was an impossible one.
She spent the rest of the morning ordering room service like a playful little child: she ordered the most expensive items on the menu. Not that she could keep any of the food down – the AIDS virus in her body made sure of that.
She walked over to the window. Being nineteen floors up, she had a beautiful view of a London park. She especially liked how the sun shone on the park lake. She glanced disbelievingly upon families strolling happily in the park. It was strange for her to see that people actually loved each other; it seemed very unreal.
As the sun began to set, Hannah left her room. A few minutes later, she was standing on the hotel roof’s ledge, looking plaintively at the pavement nineteen stories below.
Throughout her very sparse schooling, her teachers always told her her feet were never planted firmly on the ground. She decided it was time to heed their advice: she was coming back down to earth.
A member of the hotel staff, on his lunch-break in the park, spotted Hannah on the roof. He immediately called the police, and informed the hotel staff as to what was happening on the roof.
One hotel manager thought he could order Hannah down. “Get down from there, you stupid bitch, or I’ll have you arrested!” he yelled at her.
The receptionist decided upon a more subtle approach. She told Hannah her life was precious, that she shouldn’t waste it. Hannah smirked. If my life is so precious, Hannah thought to herself, why is she still looking at me as if I’m some cheap piece of rubbish. Hannah spat on the receptionist. The worth the receptionist saw in the unwanted guest cheapened substantially, and she cursed Hannah’s worthless soul.
Some minutes later, to the relief of the hotel staff, a few police officers and a police counsellor – especially trained in these matters – arrived on the scene.
“Don’t do this. I’m sure you have your problems, and you don’t know what else to do, but deep down you know you are worth much more than this. You don’t really want to be here, doing this.”
“Don’t I?” snapped Hannah as she swung her head around to face the annoying, intrusive voice.
The counsellor suddenly stopped reading from his boring and pretentious script. Instead, he stared at Hannah, horror-struck. He knew Hannah, and Hannah knew him; she knew him very well – he was one of her regulars. She would suck his penis, then spit his sperm into his mouth, which he, in turn, would spit all over her face.
“Hello, Pete,” Hannah greeted coyly. “Nice to see you again… Your children okay?”
“They’re fine,” he stammered nervously.
“You’ve met my husband before?” a nearby WPC queried, pointing to the police counsellor.
The counsellor hastily ordered everybody off the roof. “She knows me. She’ll feel more comfortable talking to me alone. Could you all wait on the nineteenth floor, please,” he told the police officers and hotel staff. They happily complied; it was a chance to have a cigarette break.
Pete walked cautiously up to Hannah.
“Nothing you can say will change my mind, Pete.” Hannah warned him.
“Good,” replied Pete, and he pushed her off.

 

NEURONES CHEWING BONES

Why is the world full of purple Santa Clauses
Playing syphilitic pinball?
The walls are turning into clouds
And the window has become a sun.
The kindest of gods make no promises.
I almost had the answer.
But the brain is a strange instrument;
It receives endless messages of pain,
But the horrible thing about it is that
It’s sometimes the sender, too – not
Unlike making dirty and threatening
Phone calls to yourself.
And this poem is one of them.

ELOQUENT CATATONIA IS AVAILABLE FROM WWW.AMAZON.CO.UK

ISBN: 0-9541837-0-3 Pages:78

 

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