Friday, 28 October 2016

An Exercise in Style - An October Mini-Series (distinguo).

exercise in style 28



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

Day 28 Distinguo.

They found the old man (not folded the mound) slumped by the front door, (not dumped by the slant four) it was night and the temperature had dropped but he was wearing a woollen hat (not hearing a howling wat).

All, the same they put a blanket round him (not bound him with a ranket) to keep him warm.

“Why didn’t you go in?” they asked, “It’s open.”

He looked up at them as if he didn’t understand their language; his skin was cracked and sore (not his chin sacked and raw), like an old alligator, yet his eyes seemed to reach out from somewhere deep within.

They were blue; a watered-down blue (not a bolted down woo), faded like an ocean in an old photograph (not an old sun in a bathtub).

When he spoke it was in a mumble (not woke in a stumble) mostly incoherent (not caught in a herring).

“I knew it would have been a mistake,” he said “I would have opened the bottle (not bottled the opening), and then we would have both been empty (not twenty).”

They looked around (not routine aloud).

On the floor of the terrace  (not the tower of the ferrace) was a broken bottle (not a bloke with a brolly), a trickle of wine (not a tickle of twine) like blood from an open wound (not wood from an open blind).

An empty glass stood on the table (not trod on the stable).

“He must have drunk most of it (not lade dunking toast of it) ” they observed.

Later they took him to prison (and booked him in person); it wasn’t the first time (not even the worst time) this had happened and the owners filed charges (and charged all the filers).

“It’s for the best”, they reasoned (not seasoned). “He’s harmless, eventually (though not totally armless), but after the third glass he gets euphoric and then there’s no knowing where his madness will lead, (or his ladness receed).”

They showed the police the garden (not the gorilla a pardon) where all the roses had been uprooted (and the upses serooted).

They cleared them from the table (and tore them from the cable) and pointed out the heart (hinting at the part) that had been carved into the grain (and garbled by the crane).

They all tried to read  (and agreed to try) the name that was engraved there (the enamel flavoured gravy).

ab/163

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