Mamu’s Watch.

August 20, 2008 at 6:49 pm | Posted in writing | 11 Comments
Tags: , , ,

     Mamu turned off the radio and its Incessant Babylon and looked at his watch. It made no sense to him, it was the old man’s watch and there were far too many dials and jewels and it bedazzled him momentarily. It was a distraction from the waiting. He wound down the passenger window bent his massive frame and peered out of the limo into the dark of the alleyway. He suddenly remembered he was still wearing Bootsy Collins sunglasses. No wonder,
    He couldn’t tell if the band was still playing in the club or it was the sound of his heart beating. He really shouldn’t have taken Three Card’s limo without asking but she had been insistent and even though Mamu knew that many other men who actually had things to give to her also loved her, he could not help himself. He settled back into the soft leather. Besides, he was Mamu.
    There was a sudden clatter as the door at the back of the club flew open, and fucking stay out! Said F. throwing the pianoplayer into the garbage cans. Not again, thought Mamu, who tattooed who this time? He looked at his watch then turned the radio on,

Advertisements

11 Comments »

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

  1. Is Mamu a bit of a kleptomaniac? Oh no! haha… no, it is right and true because who on earth would challenge him – both because of his bulk and his true, true heart. Does everyone love her? And what the hell has the pianoplayer done to deserve that. Oh bless, I hope he’s ok, damned F.

    I sound like one of those voice-overs after an episode of Batman. Slick writing, perfect gentle characterisation.
    haha, you do, Mary. That is a supercool comment. (and whispering, did you notice the pivot in the title :?) )

  2. hmm i wonder what happens next. great narrative. mamu is quite the character.
    Most people like Mamu, Lissa. I think it is partly because he never speaks,

  3. besides he is Mamu watching in time with heartbeat so rare she probably loves him and he doesn’t know it
    Tipota,

  4. Poor piano player. Sometimes it feels like I am thrown out the back door and into an alley of garbage cans. The trick is getting up and making sure you don’t smell like yesterdays left overs.

    I love the word “bedazzled.” Right now I am in word lust with “debauchery”…I think I may find a place in my “About Me” to include “bedazzled.”

    Got my t-shirt today, photos up for you tonight…:)
    ‘Debauchery’ is one of my favourite words too, my queen. Yayaya, photos. They will be the first ever and it makes me so happy that it is you for so many reasons. Thankyou,

  5. i am always so eager to continue on to the next page, Paul. you keep me us all coming back. : )
    Thankyou, Mrs Ott, that is a lovely smile,

  6. “He couldn’t tell if the band was still playing in the club or it was the sound of his heart beating.” Yes.

    Poor piano player, he is very put upon.
    Ahh, don’t worry, it is his own fault, the lazy bugger, hello, Z,

  7. My dear friend, if you do not pick yourself up from that gutter and scrape the rubbish from those slender fingers, it is my most vociferous and validated opinion that you will never be able to play piano in these hereabouts again with any degree of dignity whatsoever. That is the way that bi-coloured-python-rock-snakes always talk. ” John at the bar is a friend o mine, he gets me my drinks for free and he’s quick with a joke…”Wanted to thank you for reading my Life Imitating Art as well, WITH all its typos. lol I spelled that damn Italian’s name wrong again. lol ” ah the ladies come and go and talk of Michelangelo” A friend of mine said, ” The big problem with life is that there is no background music.” I said, No friend, you have it all wrong. The big problem with life is that it DOES have background music and it is most distracting when others can not hear it.”

  8. Have I told you lately how wonderful it is to call you friend. It really and truly is. I am honored to know a man of such depth and vision whose craft always amuses and enthralls me, holding me in the djinn’s spell like captive smoke in a bottle. A toast to you my friend!

  9. OOOOOO! You simply MUST check out this video on my page. Tnhe Mercenary Song by Steve Earle. He was only about 17?
    Ahh, Fabian, you are a gentleman, a scholar, a poet, inheritor of a grand legacy rightly proud, a role model and more than that, a true friend.

  10. “who tattoed who this time?” haha. excellent instalment of the legend of mamu. is there such a thing as like a compulsive tattooist? one wakes up after too much beer or hot chocolate, and ahhh! a cobra! I don’t even know a Susan! hehe.

    love love love. if Mamu doesn’t get his watch, I – for one – will always have time for him.
    Haha, cool, thanks Peter. Where did this hare come from on my shoulder, scratching his head and reaching for the water bottle,

  11. here, grab my hand, pianoman, let me help you up
    Thankyou, Gwendolyn, ohh my head,


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.
Entries and comments feeds.

%d bloggers like this: