You don't need to read part 1 of this. There's little connection as such. Would welcome comments though as I am easing back into this after the long break. Cheers.
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I don't know if it was the brick wall of concentration in my head that created the silence or he was just that quiet letting himself in with my key. He could be odd like that. One moment he's one of you and the next behaving like a teenager substituting personality for increasing virginity or something. That's what he was like - like a virgin who built his character to dress the embarrassment of the fact in. A hell of a heavy fact to be carrying in your head at his age. That's why he'd talk such shit sometimes and why it was almost impossible not to throw a full, compact fist made of tight 'fuck you's in his face. Sometimes. Always sometimes.
'Good. You're back and we can get the breakfast on. Hope you got cheap cheese. My guts don't require anything delicate this morning.'
'Ach! Did you hear me come in?'
'No, but you're standing there now. Seeing is enough to know you're here you great lummox.'
'Should I get frying some of this?'
'Yeah. You do that and leave me with my head a little. I had a good temple massage going there - before you did you're grasshopper stroll in here.'
I went back to grinding my skull - fading back the crackling, spitty eggs into the sonic landscape.
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Plates clacked. A fork swung a metallic scrape.
'It's ready. You ready?'
'Yeah. I'm ready. This looks good.'
'Thanks. Tuck in and tell me what you think.'
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'Anyway, I was thinking about something. I have a few questions for you.'
Was he going to let me at least chew the egg a little? I liked to burst the yolk in my mouth - fill it with the hot yellow, need to juggle it to prevent burning my palette. I liked that. It's a unique sensation in eating. At least in my narrow experience of food. He stopped it though as I had to answer his flaming questions. He'd bought and cooked the stuff after all.
'So, I'm standing, right?'
'Where are you standing?'
'Just standing. Anywhere. It doesn't matter - just I'm standing. You with me?'
'Okay - suppose so.'
'Right. So, I dig a hole. Let's say ten metres deep and jump in. I fall down right?'
'Eh?'
'Come on. I fall down, right?'
'Yes. You fall down.'
'Good. So, if I dig a whole one hundred metres and do the same, I fall, right?'
'Well, yes you do.'
'Good. You've got me. Anyway, so on and so on. I keep digging the hole. I go thousands of metres, climb back up, jump in and I fall. Whatever happens I fall?'
'Jesus! Yes - you fucking fall.'
'Excellent! So, I've fallen and I'm here. What about a guy in Australia?'
'You what?'
'The guy in Australia digs a hole the same and he falls, right?'
'Sure - a hole is a fucking hole. He falls.'
'So, this is what kills me. He falls and I fall. If I dig a hole all the way to Australia, I jump in, do I fly into the air like some kind of super fucking hero when I get to Australia?'
'What! What in the name of twenty cunts are you talking about? Shut the fuck up! You've made me eat my egg wrong already.'
'Okay. Okay. Calm down. I just don't know what happens. That's all.'
I felt my knuckles shake under the anger-thinned skin on them. If his collar had been a dog's ear, you'd have heard the bastard yelp for miles the way I grabbed it.
'Listen. Fucking listen Dave. You'd jump in. The Australian would jump in. And you'd get stuck in the middle. Stuck in the middle with no way of getting out. Hot, squashed, suffocating and stuck - just like me and you in this fucking kitchen. In this fucking flat. In this fucking town.'
I stood up. Dusted off something which didn't exist on my arms and thighs.
'So, you're doing the dishes too today Dave?'
He shut up. I didn't hit him. I've never hit him. I always just feel like it sometimes.
