Children

Sadly this week Sally, the new girl at a small shop that I have so far neglected to mention, a long standing corner shop that nudges right up to the edge of the right side of the café had an accident. She slipped inside the café during her lunch hour and twisted her ankle and I am to blame because it was I that had waxed the floor that morning. I had been thinking of other things, I had been thinking about Classic Doll and Alma Halmstrom. Alma had a small house in an area not all that far from where Toni is living at the moment. He had wrist charms that gave out far seeking symbols that rose to occasions of danger like engorged nipples and inspiring a sort of tremulous dodge that threatened a decent day, that’s what it says on the side of the doll box at The Softest Persons web.

The box that embalms Classic Doll, until the seal breaks to that first gasp of obsolescence, is slightly more attractive than the case that Newt Sublime arrived in. Classic Doll is an earlier pearl born of fine technique, steady hand spirit and that lotion totemness that so refines all that bleeds from the aching womb of the Softest Person. Classic Doll inspired Molly Doll, but and this is only rumour, hearsay, gossip and the uncontrollable variant of evolving whisper, Molly Doll enforced an exile upon herself some say of unfathomable humility. Molly, and there is so much assumption and creative writing here, sought to find her greatness equalled through experience above the vulnerable mask of aesthetics that her skitty form scorged mythically from her predecessor. Alma Halmstrom? La,la,la, I’ll get there later.

A flyer came by today that said ‘Shoes’ on the front in 36pt emboldened Arial. Outside there was a scattering of these flyers as they’d been discarded by limited interest all over the street outside.

“Brim, you wanker!” A car zips by with Nambo hanging out, wailing and giving me the appropriate gesture. GERDING! He cracks his head on a lamppost. The car stops and Nambo rolls out whilst Helium, who’d been driving shoots out from the other side and around to cup the mans' head with a little irony.

“Fuckin' hell, you alright Nams'?”
“Ne…” He was fine, just a little wound above his temple, a borderline machismo gash, and a wound of little beneficial credence.
“You find my shoe Brim?”
“You called me a wanker.”
“I hit my head.”
“No shoe. Are you responsible for the flyers?”
“Flyers?” I held up a flyer to his face. Nambo rose with a little rise from Helium (Jesus)
“These.”
“Not I.” He said. So, I thought, not he. I gave a long, slow and thoughtful look of conspiratorial subterfuge out over the South London horizon and thought…

Alma Halmstrom is on the side of the Classic Doll box because he stumped up much of the lolly for the Softest Person and this is all in the small print of course. Alma is related to a king and “ah…” you say, “ah, The King, King Kallarackel III?” Indeed, the great doll financier himself.

“So then...” I say, “Who is responsible for the flyers?” Helium, Nambo and Brim look around them whilst the camera rises above in a circular motion, the scene fades to black.