CC 88: My Train Station is Better than Yours

The music took another turn inside.  The psychedelic rock was replaced with something even spacier, slimier, more electronic.  It sounded like Gene Kelly in Singin’ in the Rain was doing his thing in a muddy farm instead, splashing around in the thick brown slop. 

‘Looks like they’re getting down and dirty in there now,’ I said.

‘Getting off their heads, more like it,’ said Emer.

‘Right.’

‘Francie goes the whole hog.  Serves the smorgasbord.’

‘Really?  I see – before I only glimpsed.’

‘I’ll take it easy.’

‘I’m surprised to see you doing any of this stuff.  It’s been years.’

‘A lot more recently.  But I’m getting bored of it.  Thought that was all behind me.  Not twenty anymore.’

‘It’s not too bad.  Shouldn’t worry so much.’

I was showing a façade of strength to hide what was a very real fear of losing my own grip on reality, weak though it was already. 

‘I don’t know,’ Emer went on.  ‘There was a time there when we were together that I was happy simply because we were behind all of that nonsense.  Even though things weren’t the best between us, there was something soothing about maturity.’

‘I agree.  But all we wanted to do at the time was go back to the days when we didn’t have anything hanging over us.’

‘Yeah------’

The doors slid across, and Paidi came swaggering into the kitchen.  I’d been warming to him earlier, lowering my loathing, as he’d been friendly, and charming, but now he was acting the prick again.  Easy to tell. 

‘Yo, yo, yo,’ he said.  ‘Have yiz made up yet?  Only jokin.’

‘Good joke,’ said Emer.

‘It was, wasn’t it?  So what are you two talking about?’ he asked, while taking another beer from the fridge.

‘We were talking about Pascal’s book.’

‘What?’

‘A book, really?’ said Paidi.  ‘You’ve done a book.’

‘No,’ I said.

‘He’s been working on one,’ said Emer.

‘Nice, what’s it about?’

‘Don’t pay any attention to her, she’s having you on.’

‘Don’t lie – you’ve been working on a book.  You might not have written anything yet, but it’s there.’ (jabbing her finger into my forehead)

‘That’s cool,’ said Paidi.  ‘Tough thing, I’d say.  I always wanted to write one myself.  Come on, what’s it about?’

‘Well, if I ever get around to it,’ I said.  ‘It’ll be like a puzzle book.  Crosswords, things like that.’

‘A puzzle book,’ laughed Paidi.  ‘Excellent.’

‘Crosswords?’ said Emer.  ‘I thought you were going to do something like Harry Potter only with kung-fu in it.’

‘Nah.’

‘Why a book of crosswords?’

‘I’ve always been shit at puzzles.  Crosswords and anagrams.  I thought it might be a good way to practice them.  And it should be easier to make them than it is to solve them.’

‘You think so?’

Yeah, because you’re solving the answer with a question; not the other way round.’

‘That doesn’t make any sense.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, if you have problems getting the answer from the question, you’ll have more problems fitting the questions to an answer.  The question is the most important thing.’

‘I thought you could find a way to fit both of them together if you worked hard enough.’

‘I don’t know, I’d imagine the people who design puzzles have to be pretty good at solving them too.’

‘I never really thought about it, to be honest.  It’s all half-baked.  I’m just a four-letter word for idiot.’

‘Tool?’

‘Nah.’

‘Dope?’

‘Nope.’

‘Plank.’

‘That’s five.’

‘Fool?’

‘That’s a good one, but I was thinking of dodo.’

‘That’s not very common though, is it?  I don’t hear people being called dodo so much anymore.’

‘That’s true.  Not many dodo’s left.  I’m the last one.’

‘Well, good luck to you, anyway.’

‘Thanks, I’ll go back to the drawing boards, and have another think about the whole thing.’ 

The three of us decided to return to the sitting room at that point and take in some of the squelchy acid mood that was now there.  Geary and Serena were in the middle of a full-blown row about train stations when we went in, and I noticed that new paraphernalia had appeared and the hint of new narcotics was certainly there, Francie in mid-snort as we stepped through the doors. 

‘The Dundalk train station beats the shit out of every train station in the country,’ yelled Serena.

‘I’ve seen better out west,’ responded Geary.

‘Where?’

‘I don’t know, Westport.  Mayo.  Though I haven’t been there in years.  That was a beautiful train station.  Sticks out in my mind far more than Dundalk.’

‘Fuck you, Dundalk has the best one.’

‘Why do you say it’s the best?’

‘It’s fucking romantic and beautiful and you’ll never forget the experience.’

‘Come on….’

‘The town does have a lovely train station,’ added Francie.  ‘I’m with Serena on this one.  It’s a pleasure to wait around in it.’

‘I find no pleasure in waiting around anywhere.’

‘There you go,’ said Serena.  ‘You admit there’s not a fucking ounce of poetry inside you, you impatient shite.  Next time you’re in the train station, I hope someone robs your bags.’

‘Someone did once.’

‘Really?’

‘Yep, I’ll never forget that.’

‘Just because someone robbed your bags in it once, that doesn’t subtract from the beauty of the train station.  Too many people are quick to smear the town like the way you’re doing.  There’s style and grace in that place, and you fucking know it – so next time, watch your bags more closely, ya dopey cunt.’