Just outside the town and the infamous Longcroft Estate a large expanse, in fact several acres, of National Park overlooked the built up area. Two small tents were set up at the highest point. Once a year Dave and Vinny would camp out to observe a very specific phenomena.
Dave warmed his hands over the campfire and stared off into the setting sun.
"Not long now Vinny."
Vinny looked up from toasting a crumpet over the fire.
"Indeed my friend. Would you like another can of IPA?"
"Go on then, if you insist."
Vinny reached into a cool bag and threw a cold one to his friend.
Dave studied the can briefly.
"Aldi IPA."
"It's really good don't be turning your nose up at my budget IPA."
"Since I brought no booze myself it would be churlish of me to do so compadre. I just didn't know they did an own brand IPA."
"Wait you brought no booze?"
"I thought that's what we agreed. I brought the food."
"Well you'd better make it last I've only got six left."
Vinny swore as he removed the hot crumpet from the stick he'd been using.
He juggled it a moment and left it on his knee to rest. He reached for a small tub of butter and a knife and liberally smeared the golden good stuff all over.
"There's nothing like hot crumpet of an evening." He commented.
"Ha. If only Lecherous Lee were here he'd fall off his stool "
"Thank God he's not. I make it a personal policy never to get in a confined space with him.
There was silence whilst Vinny munched on his crumpet and Dave sipped on his budget IPA.
"So is it nearly time Vin?"
Vinny looked at his watch. "I believe so. Any moment."
There was a great stirring of air as the setting sun cast a beautiful light over the distant estate. A huge flock of starlings took to the air from every corner of the estate. They danced and weaved over the grimy houses. Murmurating, a thousand little bodies working in unison. A metaphor for the strength of unity. Dave and Vinny took a night off from the pub every solstice to watch this spectacular event. They raised a can to each other and toasted the little birds then sat back and enjoyed the show as the camp fire kept the chill away.
Blagger
They think they know me in this boozer. Think they know all about me. Wankers. Look at him selling Lynx from a carrier bag. One-fifty a tin, that’s proper big time that is son. The cunt’s made about fifteen quid and he’s swaggering about like some fucking celebrity gangster. It’s not like he’s even a snotty nosed kid either, the fucker’s about thirty an…
Invisible
Me head’s banging and I’m moaning like a whore on overtime. The light from the stark lamps is bouncing off the grey walls, penetrating the defensive cover of me eyelids and eating me brain, eating the fucker it is. I can hear the whispers of the bizzies in the room with me as well, big stage ones, think they’re clever the sad, bullied as kids, twats.
I love your Dave & Vinny posts.