2-17: The Long Night
‘Look, last I saw Pink and Bleu they were shambling around an airport like zombies.’
‘So why work for them then?’
Donnie had to think fast. Those two innocent words meant McWarwickson had sung like an overwound tin parrot and had given the British the details of his capture and Smith, bastard that he was, had intelligently put the story together with some rather nice footage of the meeting with Madame Pink. All Smith needed now was a tune to play and he’d have Donnie singing soprano.
‘I need the money.’
‘No you don’t,’ said Smith, and pushed another document across the stainless-steel table toward Donnie. It was Donnie’s bank account detail: one deposit of $2500 from Universal Promotions PLC. This was another setback to Donnie’s plans to get out of here sooner rather than later. ‘So who are Universal Promotions then?’
‘Music promoters,’ said Donnie. ‘I’ve been asked to hire some muscle for a gig that’s going to happen soonish. I ended up with flab.’
‘The man you were with?’
‘Yeah. You can’t have been happy to see him.’
The Major shrugged. ‘Just another idiot out of an evening. Back to Universal Promotions. They’re recruiting bouncers for a gig? Do you know when it is because I’ve heard nothing about it.’
‘They didn’t say. Soonish,’ said Donnie, the mad extrapolator. He was making it up as he went along and hoped the Major hadn’t realised.
‘If they get the permits.’
‘If they get the permits,’ agreed Donnie.
‘I don’t like offering permits,’ said Smith in a measured voice. ‘Makes managing the city more difficult than it needs to be.’
‘Fair point,’ said Donnie. ‘Well, that’s the end of that idea then.’
The Major leaned forward and brushed his blonde moustache with a fingertip, then started talking again.
‘Penfolde, as much as I enjoy our little chats, I’m a busy man. Do you understand?’
‘Oh, sure. Sorry. I’ll be going then?’
‘No. Unless you start talking straight to me Penfolde, I’m walking out of here and not coming back in until Democracy is restored to the country. And I don’t intend to have the scourge of Democracy anywhere near me, if you get my drift.’
Donnie wasn’t surprised…
Danny’s burgers, Fitzroy North
October 2009
Tracks
Streetsweeper – Como Cosmolino
There are a few ways to describe one's self when effectively trying to mask the fact that you're a complete hermit and spend your entire existence behind a computer screen sipping hot tea and eating cakes. The first would be to suggest that you're somewhat introverted and avoid coffee. Another might be to suggest you're a fan of Apple Macs but are cutting-down from the 6 you used to have to an even two (Macbook and Mac Mini in turn). Finally you might choose to say that despite the massive pay-drop, this writing thing is quite a lark isn't it? Not to mention enjoying the creative life a lot more than mindless tedium in corporate jobs, working the 40 hour week to the drumming of endless meetings and political intrigue that would have made Machiavelli blush and hand his pen over to the corporate slugs that run companies these days. Enough said really.
