Bordeaux Bay

Bordeaux Bay
Bordeaux Bay by Guernsey-based artist Tony Taylor

Friday, 14 September 2018


As Autumn closes in about us, here's a bit of fun to lighten up the day.


I wander into Kevin’s Bar. Scotch-rocks, I ask for, then kick back. I drink there for about an hour, maybe a couple. I lose track.
I wear my brand new Stetson hat. My watch-chain fob hangs on my vest. I fill that vest but I ain’t fat. I’m one smart cat, you might of guessed.
I watch the game and drink some more. Those goddam Redskins sure have form. I get confused, forget the score. Kevin’s is cool but over-warm.
Behind the barkeep, hangs a mirror. Reflected in it is the door. What happens next is just a blur. A guy bursts in, emits a roar.
I know his face: a dame I see, called Maymee, has his photograph. He’s sweet Maymee’s new fee-on-see. Guess he don’t want my autograph.
I think it circumspect to split. Maymee is one amazing chick, but I’m no hero I’ll admit. I gulp my Scotch and exit quick,
dart down the alley out at back, the goddam guy in hot pursuit. I got no gun: I never pack. He’s leaded up and sure to shoot.
I’m in the alley, moving fast, as agile as an alley-cat. A trashcan spins, I hear a blast. A bullet smacks my brand new hat.
I run like crazy. Bullets fly. This bozo sure is mad at me. A sleeping drunk trips up the guy, who tumbles like a fallen tree.
I make the corner, spot a cop, who’s looking elsewhere, shoulders squared. I walk real fast. No time to stop. Just gotta get this hat repaired.

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