Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet. You can read his poems and stories here! http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/
The Insane Guy From Upstairs (Gets Friendly With The Local Constabulary!)
Anyway the other night, I was drinking in the insane guy’s room upstairs, when I leaned out of the window to flick out a cigarette-end and noticed that there was a light on in the flat out the back.
Now the flat out the back is supposed to be empty (Do you remember Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail?) so I said to the insane guy and the eighty four year old guy that I was going down to investigate.
I walked out of the room, down the stairs, opened the door to my room, walked over to the window, opened it and climbed out, I walked over to the window of the flat and peered in.
It was then that I heard the noise; it was a sharp cry, followed by a low moaning (It was almost guttural!) But wait, I thought to myself, that isn’t coming from the flat? that’s coming from my room; I turned around and saw a body slithering out of my window, it wasn’t human, it was disgusting, it was not of this earth, it was The Insane Guy From Upstairs! “I just slipped on your coffee table!” he said enthusiastically. “But don’t worry; I don’t think anything’s broken and even if it is I can fix it tomorrow at half light, Captain, It’ll probably only be plugs and points anyway?” he said insanely with a curious smile.
I turned back around and peered back into the flat (Luckily the curtains were open!) I couldn’t see a damn thing (I mean I could see lots of things, but I couldn’t see any intruder or other such villain!)
It was then that I heard the second noise, I turned around to see that the insane guy had disappeared, I ran to my window jumped through and ran into the hall. Just as I entered the hall I heard him shout, “Open up, we need to use the fucking phone, c’mon wake up you cunt, it’s a fucking emergency, Christ I think I’ve just gone and shat myself?”
He was knocking the door of the fishing guy next door to my room, the one who works up at the Mental Hospital, cleaning floors. “Don’t wake him up; he’s got to go to work at six o’clock, let the poor bastard sleep!” I shouted. But it was too late, the poor bastard was up and answering the door. “What is it?” he asked nervously. “We’ve got stowaways on the starboard side, Captain!” explained the insane guy. (Oh by the way, did I mention that he used to be in the Merchant Navy?) “There’s nobody in here!” stated the fishing guy sincerely.
I turned around and walked back into my room, leaving them to speak insanely to one another, I climbed out of my window and took another look at the empty flat. Well, to be honest it looked to me like someone had simply left the friggin’ light on, there was absolutely no one about.
Then the insane guy slithered back out through my window, “It’s alright, he’s called Mayday, and they’ll be here just as quick as they can!” he said with a smile. Then he pulled a massive spanner out of his jacket and walked to the empty flat’s window. “Come on out, you bastards!” he yelled. “We know you’re in there, you cunts!” “I really don’t think that there is anybody in there!” I offered, but he would not listen.
Then the old guy stuck his head out of the insane guy’s window (Which as you know is above mine!) and asked if we could see anything? “No, nothing, they’re tricky fuckers we’ve got here!” the insane guy replied.
“Pass me down that torch off the windowsill!” asked the insane guy. So the old guy picked up the torch and started to drop it out of the window, whilst holding onto the attached cable, well it only came down about a foot and then dropped completely and smashed apart on the concrete outside of my window.
Well, I had to turn around, because I was shaking with laughter. It turned out that the torch was only connected to the cable by an adapter, and of course the adaptor had slipped out.
It was then that the police arrived. They had a quick look around and decided that someone had merely left the light on.
So I climbed back in through my window and the insane guy followed the police around the lane to the front of the house. (They were merely trying to get back to their cars, I say cars because five policemen had turned up!) but of course the insane guy was having none of this ‘Getting back in their cars’ BULLSHIT!
As I climbed back in through my window I could hear him saying, “I used to be in the services, Captain!”
Anyway, about fifteen minutes later, the old guy came knocking on my door and told me that if I didn’t go out the front and retrieve the insane guy, they were going to arrest his arse, for ‘Disturbing The Police!’ Hahaha!!!!!
As I got out there the insane guy had his trousers down around, his ankles (And I’ve told you he doesn’t wear any underwear, and how do I know that he doesn’t wear any underwear? well
because his fucking trousers keep falling down when we’re in the town!) he was showing the police the scar from his motorbike accident, which goes from his right thigh down to his right knee. Luckily I managed to get him to pull up his trousers and return to the house, where we spent the remainder of the night drinking Vodka & Beer!