Living life wild and free in Malta

As soon as I got the cheque from Betsson, my heart missed a beat.

I still had moneyleft from my last payment. So i waited a few days to get it cashed in. In the meantime I got so drunk you can’t imagine. I went on new hights on what you may call a bender.

Two days later, I was standing at the counter looking at a bulging envelope of euro bills just for me.

Wondering what to do next. I called my frined Stephane and told him what just happened. I still feel that the bastard was corrupting me a bit, not giving two tugs of a dead dogs cock on what my job was all about just 5 days earlier.

And the heat was starting to get to me. I needed a woman and a trunk of drugs, and a vatful of absinth.

The next day I went for a drink. I met with an ex. colleague of mine from Belgium. We got drunk, and I lent him 750 euros for a meeting he would have with the Freemasons. I told him tha if I should just give him this cash, he’d better tell them about me, and what I might do to them if given half a chance.

That night I went to Paceville, drinking more of my share of absinth, scaring the living shit out of half its visiting population. Hell! I even met with some countrymen working for Betssons competition.

During that night, I was stalked by some young local punks, not knowing if they were fans or or pricks who wanted to pick a fight. I told them off and promised them a worlof hurt if they wouldn’tstop from pushing my limits.

I went into a taxi, got home and didn’t wake up amongst the living for two days.

My Belgian friend went to his meeting with the freemasns with a suit bought for my money.

Stephane soon got in contact. We went out for drinks. He kept nagging me about his lost love. Living just a few blocks away, I can understand his worries. So close, yet so far away.

Frank and I went to a stripp joint once… twice, thrice… Multible times…

He was Stephanes house mate at the time. Stfania couldn’t stand the bloody French bastard. He was into cocaine. Spending money like it was no tomorrrow. He used to be one of the dogs for Betsson.

He went on the mild mannered Stephanes nerves on a daily basis unless I wasn’t there to crank things up with booze, humor and drugs. All in the name of freedom and political incorrectness.

After the first sniff of snow white, I was ready for a good hard time in a strip joint just 50 meters down the street. I fucking love Malta!

the lapdancers were ready and avaiable. As if they were waiting for me personally. And I had money to spend.

Drink tonight as if it is no tomorrow.

Write poetry as if all was already done and said

Write and live as old dead poets and writers would be proud.

Because tomorrow we are gone

And the only thing that we will be remembered by

is lines once written

In a drunken state

of a memory of a love long lost

That will be our traces on this earth

and nothing else…

More to come….

3 responses to “Living life wild and free in Malta

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