literature

-THE MIDNIGHT CAFE-

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Literature Text

That’s what he had said, that’s what Skits had said “Spearmints!” he repeated simply and then made for some sugar packets before laughing hysterically like a lunatic.
“What are you on about?” I had asked utterly confused, but then again, I always was when it came to Skits. We called him that because he was obviously schizophrenic. We were in London, it was 1984, or at least it was presently. The year was like the weather it constantly shifted and changed. We couldn’t tell because there was seemingly no difference at all in our environment. My wife and I, Ray, at least that’s what I supposed her to be, were sitting with Skits that twi-night along with our friend Gulf as in the Persian. He was a prince from somewhere or so he claimed to be-I couldn’t remember where. Uncertainty was common in an uncommon place such as we were presently but obviously we were not in the present.
“Dear, would you please get control of your wonderings,” Ray rubbed her head
“Oh, dear, I’m hurting your ain’t I…” I looked frightfully at the gelatin wiggling in its bowl “Ever since we entered this place it seems it has a strong hold on me, I am projecting my voice some how…and all of you can hear…” I stammered, as even I struggled to compute what was happening “-I did it again!”
“You’re so god awfully confusing!” she flushed, her cheeks red with frustration.
“I’m sorry darling, I am trying so hard to explain.” And then I stopped to think “Explain? Why am I explaining? It seems to be the right thing to do….” I turned to the group “Try to keep up dear, swig the brandy it will help.” I directed her to a remote place on the table and suddenly a glass appeared, much to her amazement. Now, where was I? Oh yes, my Darling and I were at the MIDNIGHT CAFE, a very groovy place, with our adopted son Skits. Suddenly the décor went from space age lighting and plastic tables to tye-dye curtains and large psychedelic throw rugs hanging from the rafters. As if the year had shifted from 84 to 64 “Could we please focus on how we got here exactly,” Ray inquired, adjusting the feather on her purple hat.
“Righto!” Gulf raised a finger “I believe we were in the living room, popping acid.”      
“Nah, that would be too simple,” I rejected “I’m pretty sure we’re dead and this is all heaven.” I rose my glass smiling and took a sip. Ray slapped my lap with her purse of dragon skin.
“Don’t be stupide dear,” she said flustered “Gulf, that is a perfect explanation for everything…” she looked to him and I caught a glimpse of endearment. It made me a bit jealous and I finished off my brandy, spilling some on my tan trench coat I was apparently wearing. We’re wearing very different clothes. I the attire of a clichéd pulp comic detective, my wife a purple dress of 1940’s style, with long sleeves and black high heels. Gulf was wearing a sort of Napoleonic uniform, blue and missing one of its gold buttons on its right side. A sword with a golden hilt was found sheathed at his belt. He appeared to have been gripping it white knuckled the whole time we had been dining, staring at me as though he wanted to drive it in my heart. Skits, a screaming white haired lunatic was wearing a straight jacket. Here we all where without recollection of why “I think I do remember us dropping acid.” Ray said looking around “It would seem to make sense.”  I cocked an eyebrow and gave attention to what was around me “So all this…?” and they all turned towards the dancing people at the disco “Is a dream?”
“All reality is or seems is nothing but a dream within a dream,” Skits spoke suddenly and then let out a fit of laughter. I brought up a finger and shook it orderly, scowling “Don’t quote Poe in front of me boy, or I’ll disown you!” I had become quite strict upon hearing that. Ray laughed, “Don’t be so ridiculous, he’s only forty seven…” My gazed focused on his face, he was white like an albino as he always was. But she was right; he had aged considerably “I don’t like this at all!” I said scared “Skits is aging and I don’t know where the hell I am!” Ray soothed me and placed a manicured hand on my shoulder “Don’t worry, it’s only a dream…”
“Dropping acid-HA!” I spat full heartily, sipping the brandy that had made its way to my hand “What sort of idea of a good time is that!” I gritted my teeth, the alcohol stinging my mouth “An idea of Gulf’s no doubt…” The bastard picked up the kettle in front of him and poured some tea into a cup
“I believe it was your idea.” He said calmly and collectively, a leopard about to pounce.
“Oh stop it you’re not helping!” I snapped, letting my jealously get the better of me “Trying to make me look like a fool I see, just so you can get Ray!” I was really losing it “Well you can have her! I don’t even know if she’s my wife or not!” Ray took the white cloth and dried my tears “No, Regis,” she spoke to me, her face shocked once remembering “I believe it was your idea…” I stopped crying and looked at my reflection “Your right,” an image of all of us sitting down in our living room, back at reality, appeared in my mind’s eye “I brought us to this!” I looked up at everyone “I’m sorry guys, I didn’t mean for all the confusion.” Everything all around us became black, except our table by the window. I had just realized that we were sitting there; I analyzed the raindrops slowly trickling down “I remember this too, yes…” Recollection struck me like a hammer “Yes-I remember that it was raining…”
.........................................................................................................................................................................................................
We woke, as I had foreseen, in the living room, it was 1964.
This was something i wrote a while ago, it was an experiment for a series of short stories i'm putting together called The Devil's Garage.

Next: The Dream 
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HollowDestruction's avatar
Very trippy and disjointed, but still with a good thread loosely stringing it together.