Me and my good companion set forth on a lovely afternoon to Hackney's Pub on a crisp August night, some years ago. I had never been to this establishment and through some spontaneity it was decided that the evening would be best enjoyed upon the outdoor promenade of Hackney's, conversing and regaling in Hackney's bountiful potents. The night was a lovely one, and strollling to my destination I felt something close to the joy I had not felt since my youth, running through the greenest meadows with Nate, my boyhood labrador and giddily glaring at the sky, in awe as my kite soured!
Seated, I took in the menu, my eyes dancing from offering to offering, promissing to miss none. Finally, I spotted the Onion Ring Brick, and the mark was true! "We will have the Onion Ring Brick" I drooled, pathetically, to the serving man, "Oh why yes, good sir, a FULL serving will be in order" I roared, not thinking about my own bodily limitations, and after all we were two.
Hancock, my aforementioned companion, carried his slender, wiry frame in a gentle almost delicate manner, most like a lingering affect of his harsh childhood. His father's alcoholism was only surpased in cruelty by the vacant stare of his mothers blue eyes; as cold as the late autumn ocean spray off Marblehead Bay. I, was his only mate since the untimely, accidental death of Rosemarie, Hancock's nurse turned primary caregiver and only true friend.
Our conversation was a familiar one, I boisterously dishing my politics as Hancock attentively sat with contemptuous indifference. I recounted the legislature's gross negligence in meddling with a labour negotiation when a passing serving girl laid down a massive platter, pouring over with oily rings. The girl was a slight bit, and she hurried off shyly after indulging my ribald jest.
"How delectable!" I declared to my dear weasely Hancock as I lustly tore into the imposing plate. "I have never seen thsese rings match!" I exclaimed loudly, grease soaking my chin even as sweat began to saturate my brow. I plowed onward, breath coming slower, heavier, and more laboriously. Noticing, but not caring nor understanding why my good man Hancock was not joining my reverie, I polished off the remainder of the heavy rings.
I glanced up, unfocused, and noticed that Hancock's thin lips uncharacteristically favored a half smile. Unwisely, I did not dwell on this, and instead unbuttoned my pants and asked Hancock why he had not returned to his native New England since his faminly sent him to boarding school after Rosemarie's tragic demise. Before Hancock could respond our captain laid my Hackney Burger before me. Though sweat and light headedness obscured my vision I admired the 3/4 slab of rare meat encased in a hearty Dark Rye Bun. I downed another tankard of ale to quell my stomach's protest and bit in. Oh how savory this meat was! Feeling faint and and unable to hold a thought, I devoured all and sundry.
Moments later, I was through. Drifting in and out of consciousness, I laboured to reason why Hancock was standing above me, and the Pub staff scurried about me! Faintly, I heard the the ambulence bell ring out. It was then that I remember that it was good Hancock who had suggested we spend our evening here at Hackney's, and that too it was Hancock whose slight nod had encouraged me to request a full helping of the rings. The very rings he did not touch!
Here, as I lay immoble in my hospital carne many years past, I cannot close my eyes for rest without seeing the hook nosed, thin lipped and victorious smile spread across Hancock's face as they lifted me into the ambulence bed, my stomach torn assunder.
Last edited by
NAV MAN on May 28th, 2010, 10:33 am, edited 1 time in total.
Cheetos are my favorite snack atm.