Aug 17, 2014

"They don't use bathrooms in Enid Blyton stories"--- This is heaven (teaser)

Until the crack of dawn, Alex and John spent some quality time in John's bed. Ben spent the night elsewhere (as an escort of John's A-level service). For additional context (e.g., the allusion to "executive mansions") have a look here, or there

There’s a knock on the door. I’m sort of confused, wondering whether anybody ever took the pains to knock on this door before. “Yes,” I say in the end. It’s Ben, and he looks overnighted the way you would expect A-level escorts to look overnighted, especially escorts on an accelerated learning curve. So he waves a slip of paper, hands it to me and says: “You know.” He sheds some clothes and slips under the remaining corner of the blanket, graffiti briefs and all. There’s a sense of slapstick to this which isn’t lost on any of the participants, including Alex, the perfect future husband this morning who rises to prepare coffee. “Don’t tell mother,” Ben says as if these are his last words. Alex fetches the check from my distracted hand. “From the Executive Mansion,” he reads.
“What?” Ben says.
“That was the name of the White House in Lincoln’s days.”
“Oohh,” Ben moans and spreads his extremities.

First cover of Enid Blyton's  "Five on a Treasure Island"

The lavatory flushes. Maurice enters the room and claims his place near/under the African escort. “Have mercy,” Ben says and makes an effort to fall asleep.


“They don’t use bathrooms in Enid Blyton stories.” Alex says, “Especially not the way John does.” 

“How’s Taylor?” Maurice asks while fussily leaving Ben alone.
“Guilty sex is good sex,” Alex says.
“This begins to feel like an Enid Blyton story,” Maurice says.
“They don’t use bathrooms in Enid Blyton stories.” Alex says, “Especially not the way John does.”
“And they have happy endings,” I say.
“This is heaven anyhow,” Alex says, “no need to overdo it.” He takes his time to serve coffee.
“Day three.” he says and stretches his limbs, “What do we do next?”

“We ask the washed-up scriptwriter,” I say.
“I’m not a washed-up scriptwriter,” Maurice says, “I’m a beginning script writer.”
“Okay,” Alex says, “what do we do next?”
“We could try to kill the festival by closing the website,” I say.
“They are too disorganized,” Alex says, “won’t work.”
“You mean the train wreck will rumble along regardless,” I say.
“To the extent that wrecks can rumble along, yes. Let’s stick it out one more day. Plus, I can’t explain at the moment, let’s stick it out one more day.”
“So, my services are not needed,” Maurice says.
“We’ll see in retrospect who wrote the script.” Alex says.
“Uh-huh,” Maurice says, “uh-huh. Deep. History written by the winners. Deep.”
“We still need him, your script writer, especially Ray needs him.” Alex says.
“He needs a lawyer,” I say, “I completely forgot. I promised to find a lawyer for him. Anybody who knows a lawyer?”
“Enid Blyton used to know lawyers,” Maurice says. “She got sued and sued back.”
“Grownups know lawyers,” Alex says.
“Hold on,” I say, “I know a lawyer, although I don’t know his name.”
Alex laughs: “If I were still drunk, I’d say ‘this is so you’.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“I’m no longer drunk, unfortunately.”
“However. If I were you, I’d say to myself, ‘you wouldn’t even remember the lawyer’.”

“Uh-huh,” Maurice says, “Deep. Carom. Deep.”
“I retract, apologize, and so on.” (Alex says).
“We all seem a bit worn out this morning,” Maurice says.
“Oohh,” Ben moans.
“Stupid what I did, I really apologize, I mean it,” Alex says. “Forget about the ‘and so on’.”

Are you still there? Then you'll possibly like the bestselling GREEN EYES. The first part is out now, available as Kindle book on Amazon, under this link:

Night Owl Reviews

Go here for the previous teaser of This is heaven, there for the next one, and here for a selection of chapters of the Green Eyes.

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