Patterns of Wetness
By Casey Douglass
(A story containing horror, sexual stuff and strong language, so stop reading now if that bothers you.)
The two pints hit the
table with about as much care as a mistress caning her slave.
‘Jesus Mike! You’ll
spill it all!’
Mike dropped onto the
bench opposite, a big grin on his face. ‘Never mind the fucking
beer, look at the Nookie Booth!’
Arnold twisted his neck
to take in the view behind him. Across the pub sat, what was
affectionately known as, the Nookie Booth. It was also called the
Fuck Seat and Juice Caboose, depending on who was doing the giggling.
It had become the go to spot for couples that might just be feeling a
bit too frisky for public view. The in-joke was that, even though it
was kind of around the bend from the bar, at least half the pub could
still see what was going on.
Arnold appraised the
couple occupying it now, a pretty thirtyish blonde and her greying
male companion. Their lips were locked, their hands pushed deep into
the each other's crotch. Arnold turned back to Mike and grinned at
Mike’s expression. ‘You perv!’
‘Hey, I’ll take
what I can get!’
‘So I’ll spend the
whole time we chat talking to the side of your face?’
‘No mate, I’m
listening!’
‘Just look at me from
time to time then!’ Arnold laughed.
Mike blew his cheeks
out, took one last look at the couple and then swivelled his eyes to
face Arnold. After a long look he said: ‘You look tired mate.’
‘I am. I’ve not
been sleeping well.’
‘Maybe an early night
might help?’
‘Hmm, well what I
said isn’t quite right. I sleep all the night through, I just don’t
feel rested when I wake up.’
‘Any reason do you
think?’
‘Strange dreams.’
‘What kind of
dreams?’
‘Weird, twisted
ones.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Not twisted in a
sexual sense.’
Mike glanced back at
the couple. ‘Woo, I wouldn’t want to be the one to have to clean
that booth!’
‘You don’t clean
anything Mike, I’ve seen your place!’
‘True, true!’ Mike
laughed. ‘So what are these dreams about?’
‘A strange city.’
‘What, like Hull?’
‘No. Not like
anything on Earth. This one’s dark and warped, like a really old
place that existed before humans were around.’
‘You’ve been
reading too much Lovecraft!’
‘I’ve not read any
Lovecraft for years! I’ve not read much at all lately.’
‘So what happens in
this city?’
‘Nothing. It’s
abandoned by the looks of it.’
‘So what do you
do in the city?’
‘Stroll.’
‘Stroll?’
‘Yep.
For hours and hours, taking in the sights, breathing the air,
watching the lights.’
‘So
it’s not totally dark?’
‘No,
there’s a kind of green halo of light that shimmers high up in the
sky. It glints back off the black stone architecture in a really odd
way.’
‘Fucking
Lovecraft mate, I’m tellin’ you!’
‘It’s
similar I'll admit, it just doesn’t ring true.’
‘Hold
on a second mate!’
Mike
wriggled on his seat and produced his smartphone. He swiped a few
times, made it beep, and propped it against his glass on the table.
The lens pointed towards the Nookie Booth.
‘It’s
heating up I take it?’ Arnold said.
‘Mate,
let’s just say I can see a sausage and no one ordered a hotdog!’
‘You’re
filming it?’
‘Of
course. You know me. I’m going to put it on xHamster and get a shit
ton of views for my channel.’
‘Oh,
the Pub Special of The Day channel?’
‘You
remembered!’
‘Jesus
Mike!’
‘I
blur the faces!’
‘Still...’
Mike
lowered his face to the screen, nodded and looked back at Arnold. ‘It
frees my attention for you though!’
‘True.’
‘So
you walk a lot in this dream city?’
‘I
sure do. Seems like miles and miles.’
‘Anything
jump out at you, architecture wise?’
‘It
all looks the same in a way, like walking on a revolving sphere that
gives the illusion of travel. I feel like I’m moving but that
everything is the same as I pass it.’
‘Strange.’
‘You’re
telling me.’
‘How
does it end? Do you wake up while everything is still revolving?’
‘I
get to a plaza of some kind, one with a giant fountain in the
middle.’
‘I’m
guessing it doesn’t have a peeing cherub?’
‘No.
It’s a big obelisk thing. It must be hundreds of meters high, and I
don’t think the stuff running down it is water. It’s thick and a
bit gloopy. A bit like-’
‘Gironimo!’
Mike sniggered as he looked past Arnold.
‘I
don’t need to know.’
‘She
doesn’t look too happy! Think he broke an agreement, if you know
what I mean!’
‘You
know you’ll have my conversation on the audio of your sex video.’
‘I’ll
only upload the visuals Arnold. Relax. I’ll put some jaunty music
on it, something from the 70’s to evoke the old British sex film
vibe.’
‘You
put far too much effort into all this Mike!’
‘It’s
my passion, what can I say!’
‘Give
me a P. Give me an E. Give me an R-’
‘Whatever.’
Mike
retrieved his phone and stopped the recording. As he did so, he
asked: ‘So this city, is it scary? Is that why you don’t sleep
well?’
‘No,
not in the slightest.’
‘Well,
maybe it’s not the dream, maybe it’s something else making you
tired.’
‘Could
be.’
‘I
erm, I should get going,’ Mike said as he downed his pint.
Arnold
knew why he wanted to go, knew the rush he was in to upload his
bounty. He didn’t mind. Mike was okay. A good guy behind the
obsession with filming shit like this. ‘No worries Mike, catch you
later.’
Mike
smiled, turned and walked away. To his back, Arnold whispered: ‘The
only scary thing about the dream city is that I feel more at home
there than I ever have here.’
He
ran a finger down the condensation on his pint glass and quietly
occupied himself by drawing strange patterns of wetness on the dark
wood of the table top.
THE END
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