Bleary Eyes

It's cold. Bloody hell it’s cold! Shit! Really fucking cold. Blow on your hands and rub your palms together cold. I feel the chill in my lungs as soon as I breath it in, like a chill on the inside of me. I can nearly feel it all the way down to my lungs. The air is grey, the sun hasn’t broken through as yet. The stillness of the half-light is breath taking enough in itself. Breath in! Gasp!

“It’s really cold,” I say.

“Brass monkey’s,” says handsome Rolly Gregson. 

Then he shakes his leg and there is a clank, clank, and two large testicles roll out of the bottom of his jeans leg.

Rolly stares at me with his handsome face.

“It’s really cold,” I say.

“Brass monkey’s,” says handsome Rolly Gregson.

And as soon as he says that, there is a chattering and a squealing in the trees as a gaggle of primates runs through the canopy.

“You don’t see that every day,” says Rolly.

“No,” I say.

“It’s really cold,” I say.

“Come over here and I’ll hold you to warm you up,” says handsome Rolly Gregson.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” I ask.

“Come over here and I’ll make you a hot drink to warm you up,” says handsome Rolly, stepping sideways to show me a fully equipped kitchen just behind him.

“It’s really cold,” I say.

“I’ve got a jacket in the back of my car, mate, I can get it for you,” says handsome Rolly Gregson.

“That would be great,” I say.

He points to his white Alfa Romeo GT Junior, parked a few car lengths down the street.

I rub my gloved hands together, as he heads to the car.

Rolly returns with the jacket.

“I don’t see you drive your Alfa Romeo GT Junior very often.”

“No, I don’t drive it nearly as much as I expected to,” says Rolly. He tosses the jacket to me, and the two of us head off on our walk.

“If I rubbed your nuts, do you think you’d feel warmer?” I ask.

“I’m not sure, but I’d understand,” says Rolly.

We both laugh.