Atomic Dog

But Charles didn't sleep. He spent the next four hours listening to the snoring of his new friends and thinking about why he came to Glasgow. And also about if he's found what we wanted.

His thoughts were running riot.


"Am I just living life? Surely I'm banging on the door, surely I'm trying to change things. I do talk about it a lot. To my students, to my friends, to anyone really, but I also act. I'm acting now! Well, not now, but I came here, I got reassurance. It's my plan. Change will return success. Where did he quote that from anyway? But it will, and if it doesn't, I can at least say I tried. I stood up for what I believed in, I banged on the door. Hell! I don't really do anything else but bang on the door, and this door will, at the very least, open and then it will have to listen to me. Damn, I've gotta go, I have to start this thing!"


And at that, Charles scribbled a note to his friends.


I've had to leave. Thank you for your time, words and drugs. You both have helped and I've left you the remainder of the beer as a parting gift.

Until next time.



Charles practically jumped into his car, double-dropped to perk him up a bit, put on some Parliament-Funkadelic and sped off into the night. During the drive, his thoughts, thanks to the occasional acid shiver and the two pills, were back in overdrive.


"I'll get back late Sunday afternoon. I can get something ready for Monday. It doesn't have to be the big picture yet, just a scratch on the surface. All I need to do is put questions into their mind, and without the bloody answers, they need to decide what is right themselves. They need some self-reliance, especially when it comes to this. This is their subject, this is their project, this is them. I'll think of someway for them to start the slightest of change. Perhaps their questioning will start questions higher up, that's the essence of change, change creates change creates change. Let the unknown happen!"


And with this enthusiasm, Charles was racing down England, back to London. Unfortunately, for his friends in Glasgow, they woke up to find their parting gift wasn't as good as their guest had thought.


"Two feckin' beers?!?! The southern ponce!"

The End

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