You, my fine feathered friend are in trouble.
I said as I entered the beer shop, pushing the door closed with an audible click behind me.
A wha'?
Grumbled the Bear-Man in puzzlement behind his little wooden counter.
Big fucking trouble.
I said, approaching his counter and leaning on it with my knuckles so that I was face to face with the beast of the beer.
In obvious terror at having incurred my furious wrath, he leaned back and eyed me with a placid gaze.
What yer on about, ya mad coont?
He asked smoothly as if we were two otters grooming each other on the banks of a wide river rather than two roosters circling one another, preparing to peck each other to the bloody death.
Those fucking beers you recommended last week were gash. I would literally eat my own shit with a spoon than drink them again.
I said turning my head downward and to the side slightly as if I were going to ram him goat style.
That's a bit harsh, isn't it? I thought they were awrite? Well, one of them was a bit limp right enough... Were it that one? The french soundin one?
He asked.
Aye, the French-sounding one. Something something baws, it was called.
I grunted.
He nodded. As did I, as we took a moment or two to rue the French.
Aye, that were a bit shit.
He grudgingly conceded after the French pondering.
Sometimes though... Bad things happen in this Dark and Wild City.
He cocked an eyebrow like it were the eighties, I was a bit of crumpet and he a sideburned Footballer fresh from a multi-million-pounds signing.
Dark and Wild city? Glasgow? I made a face. It could be. I mean, it was a bit rough at times and you were never more than a bottle throw from someone wanting to fight you.
It was a bit melodramatic though, Dark and Wild City... Like something from one of those comics that grownups read whilst pretending they aren't children.
Do you trust me?
The Bear-Man sidled out from the counter and came round so that there were nothing between us.
My reply was an arched eyebrow.
Go on, do you trust me...?
He said in a low voice that suggested all sorts of horrifying and brutish boaby actions under a wet gorse bush.
I stepped back.
Erm, maybe?
My voice squeaked out in a manner which did not impress me and I vowed to have a word with it later on.
The Bear-Man leaned down and pulled something out from a dark recess. As he stood, I let out a sigh of relief it wasn't a syllabub and two spoons.
Instead it was a couple of cans of beer.
Mint Choc chip or Chocolate Sundae... Or both?
He smirked.
I wanted to say no after last week's recommendation.
I wanted to refuse.
He held out one of the cans. At the top of one of the cans was the text:
Dark and Wild City.
I nodded and gave in.