Wednesday, 28 March 2007

Pub Crawl Massacre: Part Six

Well Meaning Flatmate was getting sweaty palms. He had run out of tobacco. A combination of stomach acid and crap television had prompted him to hunt this bounty at whatever cost. He was going to get a cigarette. Michael smoked. Well Meaning Flatmate quite logically reasoned that there would be tobbacco in Michael's room.

Nicotine withdrawals made him feel edgey as he oberseved Michael going down the road to the shop.

"Now's my chance" he thought to himself.

He considered himself to be Michael's mate. He had spotted Michael numerous cigarettes and reasoned that Michael shouldn't really be that bothered.

This was true but he was aware he was breaking and entering. Afterall your room is private. Nonetheless he opened Michael's door. Stale tobacco odour met his nose.

He scanned all obvious surfaces. No tobacco in eyeshot. Being a sparse room he reasoned that there couldn't be many hiding places for the desired to be stashed. Ignoring the wardrobe and the desk he instictively made for the top draw of the bedside table. He opened it. A laminated spread eagled princess greeted him.


He wasn't expecting the porn stash. Still, nevermind, he could drops subtle hints later and maybe borrow one.

No tobacco. Damn. He was about to open the next draw when he noticed them.



The implications of not taking medication could be enormous. That was why Michael was living there anyway. Well Meaning Flatmate had heard about the last time. Astonishment was replaced by panic when he heard a key in the lock of the front door.

Quickly he slunk out of Michael's room, bending his knees to absorb sound, tip toeing over the carpet. He quietly shut his bedroom door. He thought quickly. He should inform Joss but without Michael knowing.

What if Michael found out? He grimaced. Concentrate on the matter in hand. Surprising himself with his acting abilities he called out from his room;

"Oi Michael! Have you got a fag? I'm screwing."

"You what?" came the reply from the hallway. Footsteps and a few seconds later Michael's head poked round his door.

Casually "Bruv, you got any tobacco? I've run out."

Michael rolled his eyes, grinned and said "Aright you pikey!" and fished some out of his pocket.

Well Meaning Flatmate nervously laughed and took the rollie being offered.

"Fanks bruv. Er, I gotta shoot. Meeting a mate in town." He left abrubtly without looking at Michael. He ran down the stairs and slammed the front door.

Michael shook his head. Slightly bemused by the aggitated behaviour of Well Meaning Flatmate he began to make himself a cigarette. Cheerily he remebered that he had just bought milk and so tea was imminent. Mmmmmm.

Then absent mindedly he looked out of the window at the Star. He could see that the 'Sloan' student girls from the taxi were sat right there in the window. What the hell. Tea could wait. As he caressed himself his eyes glazed.

Well Meaning Flatmate had jogged down the street and collected his thoughts. He jabbed at his mobile. He swore. He jabbed more carefully and correctly dialled Joss.

"Hi yer. Yeah it's me. Ummmm.... Look there's something you need to know. I've just looked in Michael's room.... No, no.... I know I shouldn't be in there. Look this is important; I found a load of his pills. Yeah tonnes of them...."

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