I went for a walk down the Lagan Meadows hoping I might find a fiver or a tenner lying around. Why is it that I always find some shit like a letter to an ex-girlfriend or some motivational shit someone's written to convince themselves not to top themselves but no one ever drops a nice fiver or a tenner for poor old Tuesday Kid no fucking way.
I came across Panther Man sitting scabbing some drink off The Indie Kid and telling him all these platitudes. It nice the two of them can hook up and bore the shite out of each other from time to time.
When he saw me the first thing he said was; "Have you ever dreamed about wolves Tuesday Kid?"
"I don't remember much about my dreams," I shrugged.
He gave The Indie Kid a look and said "you see?"
The Indie Kid wrote something down in a wee shitty moleskin jotter on his leg.
"What the fuck are you writing about me?" I asked and took the book from him.
The Smoker never dreams
even though he falls asleep
he cannot see the wolves
even in his dreams.
"So those smoker songs are about me?"
The Indie Kid started to blush. I thought now was a good time to scab a tenner off him but he said they'd spent their last money on alcohol for inspiration for songs.
There wasn't enough in the bottle to get me drunk so I wandered home skint and sober.
