The Archfornicator of Canterbury

38 It's Gainsbourg time in sweet Transvestitia

Jack finished his breakfast, put on his clothes and went downstairs. Og was busy putting up new paneling in the lounge. His nail gun had a hard time keeping up with his frantic tempo. When he saw Jack, he paused for a moment.

"Care for more coffee. There's some in the thermos."

"No thanks. I could use a cigarette though. Especially if they're not made in Bulimia."

"I know what you mean. You have to be born a Bulimian to be able to smoke those yak shit ciggies. There's a pack in the kitchen. Third drawer down."

"Great. Thanks Og."

Jack wandered to the kitchen and found the cigarettes. His trusty Zippo lit up on the first try. He'd been without a proper smoke for so long that the first lungful hit him like a piledriver. It occurred to him that he could have also tried to quit since he already had a head start. He figured he'd do it some other time. Maybe on a day when he hasn't just been rescued from certain death by drowning after escaping from the jaws of a dozen attack dogs and a volley of full metal jacket bullets.

He returned to the lounge. Og was done with the paneling and was sitting on a case of Gainsbourg, Transvestitia's world-famous export beer, just finishing off a bottle.

"Isn't it a bit early for that."

"It's always beer o'clock at the Hotel Og. Want one."

"When in Rome. Haven't had one in a long time."

"It can be tricky to come by a decent brew in Bulimia."

Og pulled out another Gainsbourg and opened it between his molars. He handed the bottle to Jack and got one for himself as well. Jack noticed that the brand's slogan was "Most Thrilling When Drunk!" He had no doubt that that was probably the case.

"Cheers mate."

"Cheers. I know it's kind of a stretch but did you happen to see a small rock in my pocket when you removed my clothes."

"Yeah. First I thought you'd tried to off yourself by putting weights in your pant pockets and jumping in the river. Then I figured you would probably have had more rocks if that had been the case. In a backpack or something."

"Would you happen to know where the rock is now."

"I must have thrown it out. Probably in the yard somewhere. Was it important."

"I'm not sure. I think it is."

"You're not sure."

"It almost got me killed."

"The border guards shot at you because you had a rock in your pocket."

"Not the border guards. Before that."

"You sure seem to be an accident-prone fellow."

"It does look like that doesn't it."

Both men raised their bottles, clinked them together and emptied them in one gulp.

The Archfornicator of Canterbury by Olli-Pekka Rinta-Koski
is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 Australia License.