|09-18-2005, 10:45 AM||#1|
Rock n' Roll Doggie
Join Date: Mar 2005
Location: Putting the blue in Bono's eye
Local Time: 09:40 AM
It started with a dance...Chapter 8
Here's the 8th installment of my fanfic...I havent ad much time to write and its probably got a few spelling mistakes in it
Disclaimer:None of the following is true, it's all a complete load of balls and should not be taken seriously. None of the U2 boys are married or involeved with anyone and I am NOT a 16 year old girl
My ears pop as the plane hit’s the highest point of its flight.
I lay my head back and just think of the last few hours, and all the madness.
As some turbulence kicks in, I grip the arms of my seat and try to remain calm…at least on the flight over here I had Bono to hold my hand.
Not now though.
He’ll be sitting in his very plush hotel, drinking champagne and having caviar with some tarty blonde he picked up outside of the Austrian airport.
Yeah, he’ll have forgotten all bout me.
I mean…what was there to remember for a man like him?
I was just another dancing girl.
I didn’t mean anything to him at all, but he meant the world to me.
That’s what it is you see.
He means more to his dancing girls than his dancing girls mean to him….’cos he’s just made all their dreams come true.
I’m just another to add to his score sheet.
The air-hostess comes out to tell us to fasten our seatbelts as it’s time for us to land.
My seat belt isn’t even undone, I hadn’t bothered to wrestle with the stupid thing.
They’re always a mission to get on….well for me anyway.
The plane begins to land and I’m bracing myself for the nose-dive back to shitty English earth.
I so wanna be in Austria with him.
With his manly hands.
His broad chest.
His kissable neck and his muscular body.
I’d give anything to be back in his arms.
Rather than the Austrian tart.
The door opens and I get ready to emerge from the plane.
A load of Austrian tourists hurry passed me…funny, I’ve never actually noticed Austrian tourists around before.
Ah well, first time for everything.
I put my jacket on and walk through the doors of the airport once again.
The Airport official that grassed me up is standing looking at me and he’s all pleased with himself as well.
Standing there with a smug look on his face.
Bet he’s happy he’s just shattered a dream.
He’d love to know that.
Usually, me being the feisty cow that I am, I’d be the first person to give him a piece of my mind.
Only, this isn’t what you would call a usual situation.
So I walk passed him, my head lowered like I’m on my way to the naughty corner.
I cant resist turning around to see his face again…he needs to get something from me.
“Welcome back to England, Miss” He says with a smile on his fat face.
“Ah, feck off” I say back.
“Now, now miss, no need for that sort of language”
“Well feck off then”
“I don’t need to tolerate this behaviour, miss. I shall call security you know, haha, then again I think you may have seen enough of them”
“Yeah I have, they’re lovely men too….now, why don’t you feck off porkie and get out of my face.”
“Haha, miss….this childish behaviour will go down well with the authorities when they find out that you crossed the border without a passport!”
This git is gonna rat me out to the police as well!
I’m gonna have to be escorted home by immigration authority or something.
Panic takes over me.
At this moment I’m an emotional wreck.
I need someone to protect me and there’s no one here.
I need to think of something to do or say to the pig in uniform….and I need to think of it quick!
I stop for a moment.
Turn around to face him again.
I’m not going down without a fight.
It’s not really in me to do that.
Is it shite.
“Oh, authorities? Oh that’s fine. No problem at all.” I say with a nervous smile.
What was that?!
No problem at all?!
I’m bricking it here…what did I say that for?!?!
“I’m glad that’s not a problem, miss. They should be along shortly. After I’ve dialled a little number.”
“That’s fine, you go on ahead dial your little number. Although, first I’d like you to dial another little number for me.”
“Oh, that’s no problem, miss. After all, it’s the least I can do.”
He’s talking to me with a big smile across his fat face…and he’s just asking to be decked.
But I wont….I’ll stay calm.
“What’s the number please? Is this going to be your *one call*…you may get another one at the station you know.”
I wanna smack him so hard!
“Aha, you’re funny porkie…funny but of course your face beats you.”
Hey, not a bad comeback.
“You know the number porkie, I imagine its all extension lines in a place like this.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Oh, porkie, porkie, porkie….food get to your brain? I’d like you to call your superior….if you would.”
“And why would I want to do that?”
“Well, I’m sure he or she would be very interested to know that you don’t check passengers passports all the time.”
“I mean…how many others have wandered through here without getting checked?….that causes problems you know.”
“Aha….I’m well aware, Miss. However, I cant see how calling my superior would be of any help in this matter.” He answers
I’m sure he doesn’t know.
“I think you’re superior should know how incompetent his or hers employees are, after all, this is our safety your playing with here…..I’m sure that they could find a more, suitable employee.”
I’ve completely regained control!
I stare at the nails on my fingers and blow a little bit of dust off them.
Like you see on a gangster film.
A very bad gangster film, but a gangster film all the same.
“Miss, I’m sure that we can work around this…minor problem”
“Yes, I’m sure we can, so am I free to go home now?”
“Yes miss, and I hope you had a delightful flight.”
I scowl at him and walk away
“Keep the change mate.” I say climbing out of my black hack cab.
I look up at my block of flats.
I cant wait to climb those stairs!
Wow, that was sarcastic.
The air here is crisp and dry and there’s a streetlight fickering in the distance.
That always gives off an eerie feeling.
It could go out completely any minute and then it’s darkness.
I shiver at the thought of being attacked or something.
In the middle of London and after the night I’ve had….it doesn’t seem impossible.
I walk through the gates of the flats with pacey steps.
Rummaging through my jeans pocket for my keys as I’m doing so.
They’re in the hotel.
Oh tonight just gets better and better.
It’s 5:30am and I’ve got to go and knock the caretaker up.
Should be fun.
“Good morning, sweetheart!”
“Beautiful morning it is isn’t it darling? You know…I haven’t seen a morning like this since 1967 great morning so t’were.”
You know, every block of flats has a crazy alcoholic…that’s hittin his later years and hittin the bottle too often. Usually widowers, whose children have no time for them.
And more often than not, they’re war heroes.
Totally crackers…but they do deserve a certain amount of respect.
I’m too nice to them sometimes I think.
You know, I once took one into my flat a few years ago.
He was all nice at first…I gave him a cup of tea.
Then he turned on me…..knife to my throat and such.
Taught me a lesson anyway.
“Was it that long Bert?”
“Aye, that long…I been here too long sweetheart.”
“Well your ass must be a bit chilly sittin here all that time, you were here when I left Bert.”
“Haha, that I was darlin…I’ll probably still be here when you leave again.”
“Ah, Bert. You should go take a walk or something.”
“Me legs’d give up on me….it’s no use now. I’m ready for the end I think.”
“Ah, you’ve no need to be talking like that Bert.”
“Well dear…what should I talk about then? My dead wife? My sons that don’t know if I’m alive or dead? Or this stuff?”
He says pointing at his bottle of liquor.
Bert definatley fits the bill of a *typical* on the step of the flats man.
I sit on the step next to him.
I feel so sorry for these people.
They have no one at all.
“Well, you wanna hear about my night?”
“I bet it was a dam sight more interesting than mine, love.”
His breath reeks of whiskey, his hair is greasy and his beard is growing out of control too.
I take my jacket off and put it around him, even though its around 6 sizes too small….it’s the gesture that matters.
“Here you go.”
“Ah, thank you m’dear…so go on then, let me hear your story.”
“I went to see my favourite band in concert tonight.”
“Aye did ye? The Oirish one? They’re no bad so they’re not…they’re from were I come from I think, I remember ‘em when they were just wee babies.”
“You’re from Dublin, Bert?
“No, I’m not from Dublin…I’m from the North….Ireland all the same though, least it should be.”
“Yeah, there’s no end to the troubles over there.”
“True darlin, it wont ever end either…not after I’m gone, nor the man after me.”
He swigs off his Whiskey.
“Stop your talkin about death will ye, im telling you me story here!”
“Oh, don’t mind me sweetheart you carry on.”
“So, I went to see them…in Cardiff.”
“How’d d’ye manage to get to Wales and back in one night?”
“Well, that’s the best part of the story!”
He gives me a smile, and I know that my story is making his day.
The fact that I’m sitting on the step talking to him has probably brightened up the morning.
“Well, I was at the show, and the lead singer.”
“Oh, I know him…the fella with the funny name.”
“Yeah Bono, well he pulled me up onto the stage!”
“You lucky girl!”
“You could call me that….well, he dance with me on stage and gave me a backstage pass.”
“Very nice indeed.”
“It really was! We were talking and stuff…and he asked me to go to Austria with him.”
I continue to ramble on telling him my story and when I’m done I make, what you might call a foolish mistake.
“You wanna come up for a cup of tea, Bert?”
I’m too nice for my own good in these situations.
“Ack, no sweetheart….I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.”
“I heard what happened to you years ago, dear. Old Jimmy turned on you didn’t he?”
“Was that his name?”
“Aye, I wouldn’t want ye to be scared of it happening again.”
“Well, you’re hardly going to turn on me.”
“Aye, that’s true…but there are some that would turn on ye, and if ye trust me, then ye learn to trust to easily….besides I’m going down the shelter soon.”
“Are you sure?”
“Aye, I’m positive m’dear…thank you for the offer though.”
“It’s no problem Bert! And, you’re always welcome.”
He smiles through his great white beard and we stand up to part ways.
I slam the door behind me.
Throw my jacket on the ground and clamber into bed.
That was fun trying to the get the keys from the caretaker.
There’s no point in me trying to go to sleep after last night.
Besides…it approaching 7am!
Oh I might aswell get up.
So I clamber back out of bed and begin to potter around my flat looking for food.
Toast will have to do.
I sit on my sofa and turn the TV on.
I curl up into a ball and eat my toast.
Flicking through the channels and avoiding all the News stations.
Who’d be calling me at 7am?
And before my mind has time to jump to any conclusions about it being you-know-who…I realise that its my landline ringing.
“Hi, Miss Neeson?”
“This is Mr. Typhike from UPH international.”
“Who from where? Are you selling something to me at 7am?
“No no no, I’m selling an opportunity.”
“Oh Jesus give me strength! ….please go away, I don’t have the time for this…and don’t you think it’s a bit early?”
And before he has time to answer I slam the phone down.
Only to hear..
“Listen You!” I say as I whack myself in the head with the receiver.
Only there’s nobody there.
And I can still hear the ringing.
Oh shit, it’s my moby.
I search for my jacket which is somewhere around here.
He didn’t forget me!
“Hiya, B.” I say down the phone to him.
“Who is this?” I answer getting a bit worried.
“It’s Peter, who’s this? Gemma?”
“Gemma? No, sorry you’ve got the wrong number.”
“Omg, really? I’m so sorry to bother you!”
“It’s no problem”
My heart sinks back into its pit of depression and I curl back up onto the sofa.
Sitting watching my phone….and watching the days go by.
I look up.
My boss is standing in front of me.
And it’s now come to my knowledge that I’ve got a sweet wrapper stuck to my face.
“Becky, you look like you could do with some sleep.”
“Do I look that bad, Jean?”
“Worse hun….why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”
“Ack, no, I’m fine.”
I say through a yawn.
“Well, as long as you’re sure.”
I nod and my boss walks on by.
And my head hit’s the desk again.
It’s been three days since the 29th….it seems like forever.
Bono hasn’t been in contact with me at all.
The shite has definitely picked up an Austrian tart.
Asses to him.
I’m too tired.
It’s a Saturday and that means I wont be in work for too long anyway….so that’s good.
There’s a big event on in the park today….so that’ll probably get me out early too.
My boss is right…I need my sleep.
I’ve been so stressed since the other day and it’s not good for me!
“Ok, hun you need to go.”
“Becky, go home, you’re shattered….we’re all off in an hour anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, go on.”
“Oh, thanks Jean!”
I grab my bag and I’m out of the building so quick it’s unbelievable.
The streets are packed out completely and I decide to go down the alleys.
I stop and rummage through my bag for it.
“Hey, this is Mr. Kevins…I have a message for you.”
I hear some shuffling around on the other end which involves a few curse words here and there, and that makes me laugh.
“Give me the f***king phone, will ye!”
I instantly recognise the voice and it brings my heart straight out of the pit of depression.
Thats it from me and please...as always...feel free to post a comment!
|09-18-2005, 11:02 AM||#3|
Join Date: Aug 2005
Local Time: 08:40 AM
BG that's really good! I'll have to catch up on the other 7 installments another time.. sounds pretty interesting
|09-18-2005, 05:27 PM||#7|
Blue Crack Addict
Join Date: Aug 2002
Location: Having fun with the changing weather in Illinois...and wanting to meet Bono again. Please...for christ sakes call me Weldy!!!!
Local Time: 03:40 AM
Nice one BG
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