Home » Musings » Jim & the misty station

empty_platformFrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrridayyyyyyyyy the FRI of DAYS, the Fri-est, wubbly wubbliest peas in your gravy (YOUR gravy, no-one elses, not even Cats O’Reillly), you’ve WON a prize, hold on to the end of this post for your prize that YOUUUUUUU have won, that’s right; not ONLLYYYYYYY are you supersexy right now, not onlyyyyy have you received superb recognition for that thing you need this week, not only are you wearing new socks and pants that give you secret super powers not onlyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy all of that jazz, but you’ve won something too too too choo choooooooooooo.

But first a tale of mystery intrigue suspense more suspense, a litttttle more suspense more worDS in CAPTIAL LETTERSssssssss just to keep you occupied, because by diddlywiddly if there’s one thing we need more of in this world apart from torrential rains right when you haven’t got a brolly and are about to step into the cabonco caves of catastrophica, it is distraction (wha?) distraction from everything, from this from you from the barley stew, from Mr McGoo and Doctorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr who. Doc-tor?




The mist cleared.

It cleared some more, but it was still really misty, you know that mist where you’re not sure if it’s like mist or your eyes have actually stopped working, then you rub them and they go all starry-eyed, they do that thing where you can’t see properly for a few seconds, it was like that.

The mist cleared a bit more, and Jim could now make out the station platform. There was no train, there never had been, for this was Jim’s fate, stuck in a train station alone, with the mist, waiting for a train that would never come.

Jim whistled and kicked a lone can of Stella into the track, he hurt his foot, for it was a joke can filled with cement, before he had time to ponder why someone would go to such lengths to concoct this unfunny happenstance, he heard the train sound in the distance (imagine a train sound here, I said imagine it, right…..

….It’s your own time you’re wasting buster, if you’re not going to go with me here, I mean allllll I’m blimmin’ asking for is that you conjure up a train noise in your head it’s not like I am asking for a sonnet or for you to paint the Cistern chapel, wait no, the Sixteenth chapel?, well any chapel cistern, u-bend, 16th, 17th, or a castle moat filled with gasoline, look, wait, oh yes, the train noise that you couldn’t be bothered to conjure in your mind’s eye (did you look up inwardly in your head when I wrote mind’s eye? you did? weirdo).

Righty look here (here), think of a train noise then we can get to the good bit where Meredith (a Polar Bear) rides in on the ghost train, and just at the moment where Jim and Meredingomonthollajajones (that being her full first name) are about to kiss, well, wait ha noooo nooo nooooo you can’t get me like that.

DO THE NOISE, but now you’ve got to do it aloud. DO the train noise ALOUD don’t matter who’s around (or a Rhombus, a paralellogram, a clown with a frown dressed in brown going to town they may drown but whilst looking down they find a gown that’s slightly babbown.

Ahhhhh you did it did you? You did the noise, now we can wrap up, THANKK YOUUUUUUU and it only took you 50 years two bypasses and a trip to the BTWA Bulgarian Traffic wardens association to make it finally happen.

As Jim kissed his sweetheart as she alighted from the train he opened his eyes (misty again) to see Meredith evaporate into a concrete mush that then flew into an empty can of Stella, Stellaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa well that solves that little mystery then thought Jim.

How long did he have left in his train station eternity? Forever, that’s how long, and forever is a mighty long time. He found a starbucks, ordered a quad americano (a never-ending one), and began drawing the mist in his notebook (that is he tried to draw a picture of mist, not that he drew the mist that was already in his notebook, cos like, duhhh that would be weird.

Poor Jim, he’s still there now, oh, and I lied about the prize, it’s actually a competition, whoever can come up with the best drawing of mist wins best mist picture, so get cracking mist-lovers.

My beard is prickly, my heart is chock full of love the real love kind, my head is confused as to why in my belly there are many different fermented vegetables dancing together, they shouldn’t mix, but they are, they did, and they will continue to do so until the sofa of FRIDEE calls me, it is merely a matter of time BUT FIRST let us share our FRIDAYness togerher, go to Argos (or similar), buy a comedy outfit, a stethoscope, surprise someone by rocking up in it, do a dance in the rain, or the mist, and DO THE FRIDAY DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. U R so great, peace in.

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