Now there are Three Steps
to Heaven
Just listen and you will plainly see
And as life travels on
And things do go wrong
Just follow steps one, two and three
Just listen and you will plainly see
And as life travels on
And things do go wrong
Just follow steps one, two and three
Step One - you find a
girl to love.
The drunk poured himself tequila from a
nearly empty bottle left over from Christmas. I bobbed around a bit, hopefully.
“Go on.” I thought at his mind.
“Ask me anything; anything at all.”
“I wish I hadn’t lost touch with you Sharon ,”
he whined; his shaking hand clasping a battered snapshot. Gulp. Glug. Glug.
Shudder. He emptied the wine(whine!) glass. “I thought we really had something
going there at Uni…”
I love the Internet and all the modern
conveniences. We’re an adaptive type, my folk. I have a kinsman who resides in
a decanter in the poshest part of Surrey who
calls himself Gordon because - well - because he’s a dry
English Djinn. We don’t do multiculturalism. If you live in a country you ought
to adapt to its ways. It’s only fair to the locals. But the Surrey
people are either so comfortably well off and secure (or so squiffy all the
time) that there isn't much to wish for.
Anyway, that was Wish Number One.
Step Two - she falls in
love with you.
He hurried around the flat; choosing and
discarding clothes for his hot date. Next came the shower and the preening and
the deodorizing. Then on went the digital watch. Those things are so much more
portable than those pre-Columbian South American stone calendars. Not more
accurate, mind you; just more portable. Start checking out special offers in bottled
water and canned food well before the 2013 January sales all I’m saying. Next
he did the wallet check and a last brush-through of his hair and as he pocketed
his new Blackberry he took another good long tug at the Tequila for Dutch
courage. “I hope she’s there and doesn’t hate me,” he thought.
That was Wish Number Two.
He rushed out as soon as the taxi texted
him to say it had arrived and I turned and floated and sank a bit in the
bottle.
They call it a ‘worm’ in tequila bottles
though it is in fact a larval moth. In most cases, that is. I look close enough
to the real thing and it was only by chance that that damned priest
grabbed for the nearest sealable container in his hour of need - and he only
managed to reach that just in time. Five minutes later and his brain embolism
would have saved my bacon and I’d probably still be swanning around Latin
America, living high on the Gadarene hog and leading US Special Forces a merry
chase hunting for chupacabras instead of letting them harass perfectly charming
but highly illegal, highly alien tourists on safari down in Guatemala. Instead
here I am: incarcerated way south of a cork that’s getting steadily further
away from my earthly body.
In my case, ‘worm’ is a pretty close
translation if you want to look us up in, for example, Isiah and the Gospel
according to Mark. Muslims don’t drink alcohol and they use a word from their
own folklore for us. Curiously, worms don’t appear in the Book of Revelations
at all where the word used is ‘dragon,’ though it’s pretty much the same thing.
Revelations is quite accurate once you discard all that namby-pamby
bowdlerization that pretends it’s all about strife within the First Century Church in Asia Minor and
so on. You’re going to need rather more than a few cases of Perrier and some catering
packs of Fray Bentos for that little party, let me tell you.
Step Three - you kiss and hold her tightly.
Oh, bless! Their first date in six years and
they’re already on his sofa and at it like rabbits. Oh, and how about a
nightcap? Guess what they’re sharing the dregs of before nighty-night?
And that’s Wish Number Three.
The British don’t do multiculturalism
much themselves, thank the Lord. My Lord, that is: not yours. Most Brits
only know a few words and phrases of Spanish: Ole.
Vino. Oy, Manuel! That’s just
about your lot. And a good thing too for my sake because otherwise Romeo here
might have read the warning that Padre Garcia’s capture spell transformed the
label into: especially the bit about (approximately) Terms
and Conditions Apply. Especially the bit about three strikes and he's out. His
loss. And yours, eventually.
Lover Boy has a good body; what with
five-a-side football on Sunday mornings and a couple of trips to the gym before
work every week. Oh, I noticed the first signs of lung cancer but it’ll be
years before it causes me any trouble and I can always relocate before it grows
inconvenient.
Oh, and here’s one last one for you; Hasta la vista, baby.
He has good strong hands from all that weight
training, and while Sharon ’s sleeping I think
I’ll guide them into the kitchen and find out what he keeps in his cutlery
drawer.
Yeah! That sure seems
like heaven to me.
In the UK, Eddie Cochrane’s music can be bought here, here and here, and you can meet those charming
tourists here, here and here..
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