Dreams

          Ed got home this evening with a black eye.

            There was an awkward moment at first, we hadn’t really spoken since my outburst last night. I broke the tension by laughing at his eye.

            “Mate, no more bets involving Jane, alright? That’s a new rule. It’s now as good as inciting violence, which I understand is against the law.”

            It was my turn to laugh. “Fine,” I said, “but at least tell me you got the next song.”

            “Well, she wasn’t really in the talking mood.”

            “So?”

            “So, she punched me under a billboard. It was advertising The Game’s old album, The Documentary.”

            “How do you know it’s old?” I asked.

            “What do you mean mate? I’m as black as they come. I’m down with all that rude, sick shit.”

            “Right,” I said, “well ‘Dreams’ is clearly the best track on that album so…”

            “Mate! How the fuck do you know that?”

            “I too am down with the rude, sick shit, my nizzle. And further, dog, that song is clearly about following your creative dreams, alongside handing out the props to the most hippety hop characters of history. So, Ed, what’s your dream?”

            Ed had been laughing but this last question stopped him in his tracks. He looked suddenly pensive. He looked up at me. “It’s easy for you to have dreams Tom; you have means.”

            I laughed at him. It was all pure jealousy. “This is what I’m talking about Ed. Fine, I’ve had help, but mine are self-made means in the main, but all you do is destroy.” Though I didn’t say it, I meant that he destroyed both of us.

            “Right,” he said, ignoring my words completely, “I’m going to write down what I dream tonight and in the morning we’ll type it into Google.”

            At this moment I got another text from Fiona.

 

            Well?

 

            Shit. I’d forgotten about her text. I told Ed about it and he laughed raucously.

            “I can’t bring myself to fully reject her; it’d be like kicking a baby pony.”

            “Don’t then. I mean, mate, from what you said of your date the other night it looks like a guaranteed free shag. Make the most of it.”

            “Fine,” I said, dubiously, and replied.

 

            Sure, but I’m not free until next Saturday…

 

            Naughty, she replied, playing hard to get eh? I’ll make the wait worth your while! ;-) xxx