Kaptain's Blog

The writings and musings of The Kaptain

Sunday, July 10, 2011

For Sara & Katherine

A cockroach went unhurriedly about its business, entering his ear to re-emerge from his mouth with equal disinterest. Startled by something it then scratched its way back to some unseen hole or crevice.
Latimer woke, an axblade splicing his crown.


…Doan tayk the Loawds naym in vayn…


In a rare and unexpected moment of lucidity he caught the smell of his own breath. Oh my God. Groaning, he slid off the bed on to his knees then pushed himself up, gingerly. His kidneys were killing him. As he rose, so his kneecaps unstuck themselves from the tacky carpet. Mong Tin’s V Hotel was in a different league to the Merchant.
A lower one.
There was no toothbrush set in the walk-in closet that passed for a bathroom but there was, at least, a small bottle of mouthwash.
“Small fucking Murphys,” he misquoted, cheering himself.
Struggling with the plastic wrapper round the bottle’s childproof screwcap, he suffered a painful incursion under a fingernail before managing, finally, to rip it off with a spiteful tug. He took a swig and was gargling with some trepidation when, disturbed by an unwanted knock at the door, he allowed a dribble of the complimentary liquid to find a way of sneaking past his pharynx. It stung like hell. Worse still, it triggered his dreaded gag reflex.
“House-keep-ing!” a voice sang.
What fucking time was it?
Seconds later he heard his room door opening. Stood before the shaving mirror butt naked, feeling the tingling in his stomach, the string of bile he knew he would literally have to pull from his mouth now inching its way up his throat, he kicked shut the bathroom door. The sound of the maid plumping up his pillows could be heard as the first viscous batch of alcohol, stomach lining and the odd bit of undigested burger meat launched itself into the sink. The sight of it draining down the plughole made him want to boak even more. Outside the fussing went on hold for a moment, then resumed.
The second heave came from deeper, producing a loud retch. It tore at what little abdominal muscle he had left. Through the door, the maid panicked out something in Tagalog.
“Go away! Get out!” he complained, when the depleted contents of a third and final upchuck splattered over the taps.
Wiping his mouth on the sleeve of the greyish bathrobe hanging forlornly on the inside of the door he was glad to hear his room door click shut once more, this time behind her. The digital bedside clock said eight, zero, nine as, balls dangling asymmetrically, he opened the minibar to retrieve a miniature Gordon’s. Sinking it in one he leant into the wall for a few seconds, concentrating hard on keeping the vital liquid down. The uncertainty having receded, he took the two paces necessary to cross the room and reach for the bedside phone.

posted by Kirk at 4:59 am  

1 Comment »

  1. Love it! So excited to read it all! Brilliant stuff! Saw the other links you eamiled me! The Foster beer one was SO funny. Hahaha anyway, really good stuff! Excited to read the rest! x

    Comment by Katherine — July 10, 2011 @ 6:31 am

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