Dedicated To Benioff and Paul
Having missed out on betting on the fucking octopus's predictions I wasn't sure who to be annoyed at; never again would the octopus grace me again with his predictions his money making predictions. He was apparently retired; and raking in 20g through sponsorship and shit. Instead of investing my $100 I let it lie in my wallet; sitting there brushing against the lint and faded reciepts that sat there with it.
I took the very last train out; if I took the very last train out nobody else from my neighborhood could call me "Hey you're out in the city? I'll catch the last train we'll hang out" I took the last train which gave me maybe a 3 hour interval before they started again into their early morning shift. I don't know who would be wandering at these times and what would open.
There was hardly anything going around. All the homeless people and streetwalkers retired somewhere dry. I had an umbrella; nights like these I always had an umbrella handy. Someone lanky walked ahead of me but he heard my footsteps and kept slowing down and trying to look back at me. Finally he turned around and stopped; surveyed me as I approached him.
"Hey did you miss the last train?"
"No I like being around at this hour"
The guy wore loafers and a tie; he looked all dolled up. You could tell he was a student he had that absolute EAGER face framed by wispy hair he probably spent hours on. He was maybe 10 years younger then me. He annoyed me cause when he looked at me he had this fascinated pleased look. Maybe he wanted to hang out with me for a social science project. I could imagine the clibboard and papers in his backpack with A STUDY ON THE BEHAVIOUR OF DRUGGIES PROSTITUTES AND OTHER UNSAVOURY CHARACTERS. I'm not sure if assignment would ever be that unsophisticated but what did I know.
"Me too; but I'm not as cool as all that; I was running running running trying to get to the station just in time but I missed it by a minute. Always happens to me. So I guess I've learned to relish this time of night"
It was more very very early morning but I didn't feel like contradicting him. He kept on talking; he was a talker which made me dislike him a little more
"Where are you going" he asked
I told him I wasn't going anywhere. He asked if I would like to follow him he knew a place to get a drink. I shrugged and followed him. If I really was his little social assignment then he'd probably pay for me. We, with both our umbrella's standing far apart from each other,walked past all the closed juice bars and chick little boutiques. We'd go down tons of streets; every street we went down he would suddenly turn towards a coffee shop or something and knock knock knock. Someone; always a girl who worked there; would open the door. They would have idle conversation.
-Hey you -(Playful wink) -What are you doing here shouldn't you be doing your homework (has a flirtatious 'naughty naughty boy' tone -(Smile) Can you offer me and my friend a bite or something?
And they would always oblige. We recived warm coffees and stale bagles and packs of smokes.He explained that they were all girls in his school whhose father owned the little stores we stopped by. He said they liked to stay in the stores overnight with some matresses and blankets from the storage room so they would be in quick and easy access to the night clubs and bars that they loved going to.
All the senseless childish flirting I would have to listen to ticked me off abit more each time. But smokes helped.
"What next? A library? A student bar?" it was cold out; our breath would fog up as if we were blowing white ash
He laughed an annoying student laugh "No no I'll take you somewhere with people your age"
He took me to an old bar sitting in between two sad short office buildings. There was light and noise pouring emitting from the dark pane green windows of the place but the door was locked. He had a key. The place was filled with people -somewhat- my age. And a few young people as well. They immediately took to us and poured us more drinks then I could drink.
I asked him about this place; how he had come across here. He told me one of the owners was his previous step-mom. He told me he worked here every weekend; he didn't look old enough to have a liquor licence. He didn't look old enough for anything. He looked at his watch
"The trains are gonna start running soon"
Even though I was pretty plastered I felt confident I could hide my red eyes and blurry slurs; at least for the transit officers. He sprayed me over with cologne and gave me a suitcase from the back room; "It makes you look more like a salary man, transit officers don't bug drunk salary men" I asked him how he knew that and he said he sometimes watched the people pass in and out of the trains and had picked up a few tips. I knew it; he must be some sort of cultural studies kid. We left the bar; everyone patted us on the back and let us go offering us peanuts and chips for the ride home. "It's like Cheers!" I told him. "What the fuck is Cheers"
The rain stopped and the day was a soft gentle hazy grey; little drops of water leaked down from the jutting out roofs and balconies. They were thin sad puddles on the street. We arrived at the station; people were pushing past us already; the dedicated worker always on time at the office. They clutched their little paper train tickets in their hands. We bought two tickets for opposite directions and waited at the platforms; sitting on the silver freezing to the tough metallic chairs.
"Are you gonna ask me questions now?"
"What?" He's obviously confused
"Nothing. Anyway thanks for the beer and stuff"
"No problem"
When we get on each others separate we wave to each other and then the doors close and the trains pull into the dark hollow tunnels.
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