LENNY
Marc Canham
The Woodstock Arms
70 x 45 cm
Deserted. Quiet. Trash swirls around. A used mask blows down the street and settles next to a discarded blue rubber glove.
A figure appears from the shadowy alleyway alongside the Post Office, rapidly followed by an Exocet Border Collie – darting around, sniffing every available corner.
No cars. No people. Deathly silence.
The figure walks across the road and stares at the four benches that mark out the square – carefully analysing the merits of each one. The dog races across the road to join – off lead – looking for guidance.
It’s hard to get run over in a ghost town.
Marc: Which bench tonight?
Lenny: Can I check… you did you bring my treats tonight – not just yours like
yesterday?
Marc: Yup
Lenny: I like that bench then – it’s got the view.
Lenny points to his preferred bench. They sit down facing a deserted pub.
Marc: Do you think I’m drinking too much at the moment?
He takes a large swig.
Lenny: Definitely!
Marc: What?
Lenny: You’re taking that hip flask with you everywhere. Not
to mention the wine! You’ve got a problem. Oh… and you’ve
definitely put on weight mate.
Marc: Bloody hell. Wasn’t expecting that. Bit full on. What do
you recommend then… mate?
Lenny: Daily exercise. Works for me.
Marc: That’s different.
Lenny: Well… not really.
Time passes. Still empty and quiet around the streets.
Marc: You know we’ll be able to go into a pub soon. That’ll be
nice.
Lenny: Brilliant. My sensitive hearing loves the random loud
noises in pubs. Can’t wait. I much prefer lockdown.
Marc: Jeez… we’ll sit in the beer garden then… anyway, it’ll
be nice to speak to humans again over a pint.
Both sit in silence pondering the return to a type of normality. They’ve grown accustomed to the simplicity of a repetitive daily routine and quite enjoyed it. But it’s lacking chaos and randomness. It’s not normal.
Lenny: Maybe you should take up a hobby… you know… an exercise
type hobby.
Marc: Fishing?
Lenny: Not really exercise is it?
Marc: It’s defined as a sport!
Lenny: It’s really not. Maybe get a paddle board?
Marc: That’s not a sport either.
Lenny: Let’s change the subject. I sense anxiety.
Marc: Pot. Kettle.
Time passes. Then Braaaaaaaaapappppapap. An underpowered over noisy car
driven by an inexperienced driver at warp speed breaks the silence. Both glare at the driver menacingly as he circles the square – he stares back with pride.
Marc and Lenny: Twat!
The car disappears as quickly as it arrived. More time passes. Marc takes a final swig from his hip flask and hands Lenny a treat.
Lenny: Cheers!
Marc: Right then. Same time tomorrow?
Lenny: Why change a winning formula.
They both get up – both synchronise stretch with accompanying noises – no one will hear – and retrace their steps down the dimly lit hill. As they stroll…
Lenny: Any plans for when we get back home?
Marc: I’ll probably feed you… send a couple of emails,
and I think I’ll follow that with some intensive google-research.
Lenny: You do too much of that too.
Marc: Got an idea… gonna get me a paddle board.
The End
Marc Canham