The Crow Road Monologue
|The Crow Road by Iain Banks|
Eventually, the noise stopped. I was about to suggest we run away very soon and to some considerable distance before anyone discovered what had happened, when Marion grabbed both my buttocks with a grip like steel and snarled those words, which I, in common with most men I suspect, would eventually become relatively familiar in similar if rather less dramatic circumstances. DONT STOP! It seemed only right to comply, but my mind wasn't really on what I was doing. Marion seemed to have some sort of fit. It coincided with, or perhaps was the cause of, the rear window falling in. It showered us both with little jagged lumps of glass, green under the tarpaulin light, like dull emeralds. We both stayed like that for a bit, breathing heavily and laughing nervously. Then we started the difficult task of disengaing and trying to dress in the back of a tarpaulin-covered car full of gravelly glass, shaking bits out of our clothes and hair. We continued dressing outside the car in the garage shaking more glass out of our clothes onto the garage floor. I had the prescence of mind to put these back on the back seat, there was, I noticed, with small pride and considerable horror, a small stain on the cracked green leather. Probably more Marion than me to be honest but there was nothing I could do about that than wiping it with my hanky. We closed the garage doors behind us, grabbed our bikes and headed for the hills. It was a week before Dad discovered the disaster scene in the garage. He never did work it out.