That BluPink was almost certainly related to T-Stripe in some way or other was not in doubt.
And how many diaphanous layers of first or second cousin were interwoven by underage Asian children for a few cents an hour was not really the issue.
The only issue was could it be monetised? And preferably before next Tuesday.
1200 meters in the other direction stands a brown stone coloured outbuilding. Previously used for depositing something called ‘books’ when people still knew what ‘books’ were, but also knew they no longer needed them. The depository is the meeting place of The Disorderly Sisterhood of Those that have Less than Average to do on Friday Afternoons or 'Dishcloth' for short, they meet every Tuesday evening. Ostensibly for Pilates and political book club. They talk about important things in the same way others talk about football. And they talk about the price of leggings and casual sportswear in general in the same way others don't.
Only four members past the extremely time consuming selection ritual before the extremely time consuming selection ritual passed it's expiry date. There was Grey. Dark Grey. Light Grey. And Red. “There’s a red one in every family," joculated Grey at their first meeting. Although Dark Grey claimed it was most definitely more than one. Whilst Light Grey maintained everyone was exaggerating wildly. Red, about whom everyone was quite possibly exaggerating wildly or not, didn’t care one way or another. Red was on top of his game. Even though he wasn’t completely sure which game he was on top of. In any case he was most definitely on top. Even when there was nothing underneath.
But he was Red. He was The One. Even if he wasn't.
It was a match made in the hell hole that is home-made Spunmedia.
The Red versus The BluPink.
Head to head. Face to Face. Back to back. Fist to fist.
Til’ death us do part.
3 rounds.
The improbable versus the impolitic.
Shite club and unruly. About which no-one was talking.
Halftime entertainment by T-Stripe's groupies.
Reporting by Mutter.
(Not to be confused with Doris Mutter of
Doris Mutter and the Holy Brothels fame. Author of 'Extreme Petting For Dummies' and 'Show me a man telling the truth and I'll show you a way to make him look stupid '. And the reality show 'Lie back and mutter for England').
All of which is why "Not completely accurate" would be a not completely accurate way of describing what pretty much happened next.
Whilst Red centred himself in the only way he knew. Playing to the crowd. Chin up. Neck exposed.
BluPink slid unnoticed to his side. And with an amiable souciance of HBO inspired G.O.T. he aimed the sharpness of his tongue and slit the neck from 'ere to 'ere with cannily placed verbosity.
Red sank. Red all over. Redder than ever.
Red through and through.
Until there was no red left.
No bullets. No knives. No bad dudes. No red. No more.
It was all over in less than 30 seconds.
With no need for the halftime entertainment either.
The crowd shrugged. The crowd applauded. The crowd muttered their way home.
There was silence everywhere. Except in T-Stripe’s head.
Where there raged a wild war of attrition.
to be continued….
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