It is a typical weekday evening in the Salisbury. Outside, rain harries passers-by, badgering them from office to railway station. Sharp gusts of wind lash the unwary with surprise sprays, turning umbrellas inside out, causing momentary staggers as they attempt to hold their footing. Inside, a group of goth-rockers silently gaze through the window as dark clouds shroud the city in gloom. Stultifying boredom, that’s how they like it, that’s why they choose that particular corner to escape the downpour. Alfie Hoole is sitting at his usual place at the end of the bar. Five pints into the night he looks up from his paperback. The fat bloke on the fruity has dropped the jackpot at last. That should keep him on there for another twenty minutes at least. Lemuel Cullen and Persephone Skink sit at the table by the fire cradling their drinks. Not much is said, they have had a minor falling out again. Lemuel rises from his chair and feeds the jukebox with ten pounds worth of coins; he look
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In the bar at the end of the world
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‘ Uuuh ! My head hurts’ ‘Welcome back to the land of the living Alfie’ said the Nick Cave lookalike barman with a smile. ‘Just in time for breakfast’. ‘Wha- … what’s going on here? Why am I here?’ groaned Alfie. ‘The eternal question my foppish friend, why indeed are we all here? Is there an ultimate meaning to our existence?’ ‘Knock it off mate, not that.’ Alfie sits up and perches on the edge of the pool table, feet dangling, he winces as he rubs the back of his neck. ‘I’m sure your beer is getting stronger.’ Alfie screws his bleary eyes and peers through the dusty window. ‘ Bejeepers !’ He opens his eyes wide. His mouth forms an ‘O’. ‘What’s happened out there?’ ‘You’ve been out for three days Alfie. Sit in that comfortable chair near the bar, eat this breakfast and we can talk’ said Nick Cave. ‘You have a bit of catching up to do.’ Alfie climbs down off the pool table and shuffles across the bar room. The pub looks similar to normal for the most part; dar