Eyes crossed with ecstasy

Don’t know why, but hangovers always make me feel horny.

On my way back from Sugarcane's last eve, I decided to drop in unnanounced at Zosia's.

She's been working at some big exhibition in town for the last few days, dishing out leaflets, so I haven't seen her.

Zosia was tired, but pleased to see me. Her flatmate Suzie was there and had cooked a wicked pasta, which we all ate together in candlelight. Afterwards, Suzie went out to meet her boyfriend. As soon as she was gone, Zosia and I adjourned to the sofa in a hot sex frenzy. Dirty.

Zosia was up with the lark this morning and back off for her last day at the exhibition. I stayed in bed and let myself out around midday for the drive home.

Some freak in a blue boiler suit was waiting by my front door. He'd come to hydrovac my carpets. On a Sunday???

I informed him I don’t have any carpets.

He was all a-furrowed brow and pulled out a scrunched up piece of paper for consultation.

"It says here, Robert Mercer? 35 Glycena Avenue, Haringay."

"It's my upstairs neighbour you're after."

"Ahh."

I left the carpet cleaner freak on the doortep, let myself in and banged on Weird Bob's door. Weird Bob came down in his grotty pants and vest.

"Hey man."

"There's some guy outside wanting to clean your carpets."

Weird Bob squinted down the hallway suspiciously, observing the large shadow of the carpet cleaner freak looming through the glass in the front door.

"Right, yeah. Must be Micky, back from America."

"I dunno."

"I've been trying to get him to come round for a few days now. The phone rings but Micky doesn't answer. No one does. Not even Micky's mum. Or dad. Or brother, if he has one. Or any friends, if he has any, which I know he has because I know a couple of them, but they still don't answer the phone for him."

"No?"

"Well, they wouldn't would they? Not unless he'd specifically employed them to, which is unlikely 'cos they already have jobs."

"Right."

"Maybe the friends of Micky that I don't know who don't have jobs might answer the phone for him, but then it's not very probable that they would be employed by Micky just to answer his mobile phone. He's only a carpet cleaner, for fuck sake. He doesn't earn enough money to be able to afford a personal mobile phone answerer. Or answerers."

"No."

"Besides which, if they were answering Micky's phone in exchange for money, then technically they'd have a job and so couldn't be included in my 'Micky's friends that don't have jobs that might or might not answer his phone for him category' and, what’s more, if they were answering Micky’s phone for a living, they’d have answered the phone when I rang, wouldn’t they? Unless of course they were crap at their job."

Weird Bob rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know. Something seems to be seriously amiss."

Weird Bob stumbled down the hallway and opened up.

Micky the carpet cleaner freak struggled upstairs to Weird Bob’s with his Hyrdovac machine. He struggled back down minutes later as I brought my drums in from the car.

"That was quick," I remarked.

He'd attempted the front room, apparently, but given up. Weird Bob's carpets were far too filthy for his machine to cope.