Darkschunt 
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Last week I was complaining how hot it was...and look now, the world's gone all cold and drizzly and gray. It's the right weather to kill someone and leave their rotting corpse in a monsoon drain. I stood outside my flat on the patio/terrace/walkway/balcony in a freezing drizzle while wearing my brand-new luvverly brown jacket and smoked a cigarette as I watched two men in hooded anoraks stab a passerby and dragged the body into the drain behind the flower bushes. As I did and watched all this in the gray drizzle, I felt a small sense of desolation and composed this poem in my head: A Prayer in the Rain. You can read it in my poetry blog over at the sidebar. --->
I finally did something about Marcus's predicament and sent Fez over to deal with it. He got Marcus out of jail now - how, I would never know, since Fez does not speak. But money speaks volumes and Fez probably brought loads of that with him. Now, if Marcus is wise, he would leave Haiti.
But Marcus is not wise - and he has sent me a telegram saying he will not be leaving Haiti, poor stupid boy. So all I did was send back a telegram telling him to watch out for dark corners and alleyways in which people would try to stab him in the back. He may not die, but he will still feel the pain.
I finally did something about Marcus's predicament and sent Fez over to deal with it. He got Marcus out of jail now - how, I would never know, since Fez does not speak. But money speaks volumes and Fez probably brought loads of that with him. Now, if Marcus is wise, he would leave Haiti.
But Marcus is not wise - and he has sent me a telegram saying he will not be leaving Haiti, poor stupid boy. So all I did was send back a telegram telling him to watch out for dark corners and alleyways in which people would try to stab him in the back. He may not die, but he will still feel the pain.
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