I'm a day late recounting this minor tale, but to be honest I forgot all about it until I was walking in the back gate to the apartment block this evening and I saw the bloody smears. As we know, I'd been out on the piss a little more than is decent of late so on Wednesday night I crashed and burned (inevitable, really). I headed to bed at about 9.30, finished my book (Anne Enright's The Gathering, one of the finest I've read in a while) and promptly fell fast asleep. I'm a heavy sleeper, didn't hear my housemates come home later, didn't hear the missed call I picked up the following morning. I was, however, rudely awoken at 5am by a panicked shout, the sound of the back gate smashing on its rusty hinges and what sounded like 3 drunken epileptic raccoons ricocheting off the cars and bins in the basement. I'm on the first floor with a window open over the car park, so I was well placed to hear it. The interesting part was when the gate clanged again, and there was the sound of more frantic scurrying. Then one of 'em started roaring in an awful Cork whine "They've called the Guards! Fuck, man, they've called the Guards! What're we going to do? Eh? They've called the Guards!" (repeat ad nauseum for ten minutes or so). Eventually either the racket died down or I fell back asleep, I'm not sure which (I have the enviable ability of being able to fall asleep any time, any where). I'd forgotten all about it until, as I said, I was walking in the back gate to the apartment block this evening and I saw the bloody smears all over the bars of the gate, around the lock. Some more then on the door into the apartment block, and on the wall in the lift corridor.
I'd love to know what they were up to.
I'd love to know what they were up to.
