The creek behind the derelict factory has two banks. As creeks are wont to do. A Left Bank. And a Right Bank.
One is well maintained with adequate funding for fences, hedges, grassy knolls and dykes. The other one isn’t.
The primary advantage the Left Bank has over the Right Bank is that it actually is on the left bank. By which surreptitious means it cleverly circumvented all legal efforts to desist it’s monopolistic activities.
But the Right Bank had a swamp, re-wilded with cheap labour and government grants. And a man called Jackson in a gatehouse which doubled as an information centre and guard post. Jackson was allowed (and expected) to carry a gun. He had a license and everything. Although he wasn’t actually planning to do any shooty shooty anytime soon. Not because he hadn’t yet worked himself into a politically correct borderline schizophrenic neo-populistical frenzied state of mind. He had. (With a very high score from the Mexican judge). But he had no bullets. And no budget to buy them.
Some years back a bridge had been proposed. And built - to the great consternation of the Left (and Right) Bank. Rumours abounded. Gentle ordinary rumours. Innocent and soft to the touch. Spread without malice but real, nonetheless.
Would purveyors of known and or unknown things take it in their mind to cross to the other Bank? Would there be forced or, heaven forbid, voluntary mingling?
As it happened the bridge remained completely unused to this day. No-one was prepared to be the first one to break the tradition of not using The Bridge.
“Nothing but trouble on the other side.” Jackson would mutter late into the early hours. “Nothing good ever came across that bridge. In either direction.”
Writ large on the front of the gatehouse. Ingrained in local culture.
Tiger Stripe regarded the crowd before him with disdain.
But disdainful or not, it was his crowd. His great unwashed. His plebs. His very own private public.
There was Black and White. Not worth the biased views they refuted.
And Ginger and Beige. Dumb and dumber. And bad.
Spot and Double Spot. A smattering of crooked potential perhaps. Ugly!
Brown. Over-rated. Could be useful.
And BluPink. New kid on the block. Amazing.
BluPink was the star pick.
Semi-finalist in Derelict Factories Got Talent.
Sang ‘Hallelujah’ and everything.
Maybe there's a God above
All I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you etc etc
The Next Fat Cat on the Train.
Fantastic!
And the award for most persistently obnoxious tan-head goes to…...'BP''......The BluePink.
Clear then. For T-Stripe.
When his balls just ached this much for action.
And when BluPink was the perfect answer.
No one would give a monkey’s fartface deal about the question.
to be continued….
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