Monday, 24 October 2016

An Exercise in Style- The Bitsnbobs October Mini-Series (Double Entry).

exercise in style 24

Queneau - French bloke, wrote a book, inspired me. I've explained it all here.

Day 24 - Double Entry.

Way past sunset towards the middle of a cold night close to freezing, a group of passer-byes who were mostly strangers accidently chanced upon the old and no longer sprightly man who lay slumped and unresponsive on the threshold of the front step of the entry door to the homely abode.

Although he was sporting cosy headgear by wearing a woollen hat, the good Samaritans and do-gooders took it upon themselves to cover and clothe him with a blanket and bed cover. They didn’t want him to perish or pass away.

They asked enquiringly why he had failed and not entered, noticing and confirming the nature of the unlocked and open front door.

Looking up and staring the elderly and far from lively gentleman seemed neither to understand nor comprehend their words and salutations. His skin and countenance both broken and punctured belonged either to a crocodile or other amphibian reptile, yet the windows to his soul - his eyes – leapt and surged violently from a deep down depth within his individual interior.

His eyes were sky blue blue - diluted and muted like the seas and oceans of historically ancient images and reproductions.

When he replied and answered there was only the mumblings of unintelligible whispers and grunts; stating and iterating that he considered and believed that such action or attempt would have finally finished in failure or defeat.

“The containing bottle would have been drunk and consumed, and both of us - aforementioned receptacle and me myself  - would have been empty and drained.

They all looked around and about, noticing on the muddy ground broken shattered glass bottle pieces; trickling and dripping fermented grape wine that was flowing and running like blood red life from an open and gaping injurious wound, though they assumed and concluded that most had been swallowed and consumed.

Law enforcing police took and drove him to the lock up prison, incarcerating and holding him for his own health and good. It was neither the first or the second time or occasion and charges and complaints were filed and recorded.

They stated and decreed that although they considered him to be safe even harmless, too much excess would make him excitedly euphoric with no way or manner to sagely know where his insane madness would lead and end.

The uprooted roses of the genus rosa that he had pulled from the ground, lay scattered and strewn for everyone, if not everybody, to see and behold.


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