The whisky had steadied me but the world was swaying and tipsy, it was always such a lightweight.
My ability to walk in a straight line was undaunted by my liquid acquaintance but the world was jerking the street all over the place and I was fearing for its head tomorrow morning.
"steady down, I think you had too much" I tell him but no reply was forthcoming as the world's drunkenness renders it mute.
The night was cool and my belly full and content from a meal of mushroom soup.
Tescos had not restocked their shelves so I had purchased the mushrooms from an independent trader in the area. He had assured me of their quality with calls that they were class A.
I was hesitant due to the poor ventilation and dubious clientele of his secret plantation in his mothers garage but demand and supply economics had deemed his product of extreme expense so I was certain of their excellence.
My full belly had its disadvantages as I had discovered it had made me see everything in a strange colour and upside down and had led to my friendship with the world to become compromised.
He was always so angry, and unfortunately violent towards me after a whisky drink. I was jerked and pushed and bullied around and battered against the pavement, the lampost, a car and an owl.
Such cavalier abuse of my physical being had left me sore and feelings of sickness from my vegetable meal had left me in need of a toilet.
I entered the nearest building, through the door as was the socially acceptable method at the time.
Unfortunately I narrowly missed the toilet with my vomit by 100 metres but due to the ferocity of the said illness it made up a good twenty metres of that distance, which diminished my embarrassment by 20%. Those using the urinals in line of my illness seemed impressed with my flighted sick. In fact they were now dripping green with envy.
I left the facilities and to my horror I realised I was now in the confines of a library. In my panic I drowned my throat with the whisky from the canteen in my pocket and slowly tried to find an exit.
I was a man of vocal words and this was the land of the written word- I knew my sort was not welcome here.
Signs of "silence" and "do not talk in the library" were to be seen everywhere which furthered my fears and segregation and I knew I was in the minority.
Thousands of books stared down at me as I stumbled through the library. They read titles like "The lost art of a great speech", "The Brilliant Written Word" and "Earth Dogs dont Speak" which further reinforced my paranoia.
But maybe it was the belly full of mushrooms or the whisky in my throat that made me resolved to stand up to this bigotry and make my voice heard.
I marched straight up to the librarbians desk, with several slight detours to the floor along the way.
"Lissssten upp, youse li..li...barbarian, I will not be taunted by your hardcovered army"
"sshh"
"How dare you, I will not be..."
"Ssssshhhhh"
"You cant silence me- I demand to be heard"
"Sir this is a library, there is no talking"
"and it has been like this for too many generations- the people of the spoken word must finally be heard here- I demand my say."
"Sir, I will call security if you do not shut up"
"You have hurt my feelings lady- I am not made of a hardcover like your books but merely skin and I am sensitive to being discriminated upon in this place due to the method of my communication."
"Audio-books are in the basement floor in the corner"
"Of course, hide us away and sweep us under the cover- I know my place in your eyes but one day the world will be full of libraries that selve audio-books and printed books next to each other, a place that does not discriminate between the two. Maybe in generations to come there will be an audio-book that wins the Booker Prize......I just hope I am alive to see it."
"Sir- you are scaring me and I am calling security" she laughed
"Dont be afraid of change my dear- I must be allowed freedom of speech"
"ssshhhhh"
I am set upon my two security guards of the Books Nationally Promotion and thrown out of the library to the exile of the street.
"Go back to where you came from" one of the guards yells as the world lands on my head and my blood makes the escape from my nose that I feared it had been plotting for a long time.
I walk the street shaken by my ordeal but determined to fight on. My next stop would be a Waterstones or Fleet Street and the old order would burn....
But first I wanted some more vegetables to freshen up my brain which I feared had been left depressed and vulnerable after the escape of my blood.
I guess you can try but sometimes living together just doesnt work out and you have to move on.......
