Once Upon A Beginning

by The Other

We’re sat opposite one another, the lights dimmed, the hour late. In another time – another place – this could almost be romantic.

The multitude of tumblers, highballs and Champagne flutes spewed over the table, detail a night well lived.

The Nameless is gesturing wildly, eyes popping, ranting at break-neck speed. Amongst the drunken psycho-babble, egotism and flailing righteousness, he proclaims himself the next Ernest Hemingway.

Bitch Boy and I glance at each other, making eye-contact briefly.

This isn’t the first time The Nameless has made such a hideous claim, Champagne fuels his Messiah Complex like lax gun control fuels killing sprees.

However, this is the first time he has grabbed a Moleskine and a Biro and begun scrawling across it.

It would be a push to describe his writing as prose – it is neither flowing nor elegant – but it vaguely resembles a rough collection of sentences.

This is how Whisky Gonzo began.

The Nameless and myself writing – I say writing… – whilst in the midst of a nightmarish Champagne binge.

Bitch Boy is slumped face flat on the table, gurgling gracefully. The Brora is before us, opened and primed. A new dawn has begun.