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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 50 | volume IX | September-October, 2006



                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 50September-October, 2006

Pop's Drunk Again

– excerpt from the novel –

p. 1
Dušan Čater

    Žužemberk met me with countless lights. Literally. I mean, nobody counted them and all that, but who could blame them for not counting, there were that many they were countless alright, especially around the old town castle. This ruin greeted me from afar, beckoning to me to come to its rampart for a shot of rum with diet soda. But, fuck it, I had no time for things like that. For sentimentality, memories and innate loves that with time turn into habit. No time. I parked in front of the only apartment building I knew, cut a line, just so, for strength and courage, and dashed up the stairs to the third floor. I wasn't sure I'd find anyone in the apartment, and frankly, I didn't care one way or the other. I mean, I'd rather there was no-one there than find the blue ribbon with POLICE printed on it across the door and the lock sealed, or maybe even some crime scene detectives inside the apartment, the Holmes and the Poirots, looking through their magnifying glasses for possible prints left behind by the murderers. Well, at least there was none of that. No seal on the door, no detectives. They'd probably had enough time to turn the place inside out and realize yet again that it was another shot in the dark, that they had no single trace of evidence, except… Fuck it, that's why I was standing in front of the door to that apartment.
    I rang the bell. I knocked and rang the bell.
    Ring-ring. Knock-knock and again ring-ring. I heard movement on the other side of the door, and in the peephole, as D. calls it, I saw an eye watching me. Then the key scraped, and none other than she herself appeared in the door.
    “I've been expecting you,” she said. “Come on in!”
    She stepped back from the door, checking with a quick look up and down the hall that we hadn't been seen. She pulled me into the apartment and quickly locked up behind me.
    “Take a seat,” she said, motioning toward the kitchen table where I'd sat before.
    Confused, and not only because of the dope, I sat down and looked at her. I pulled my gun out from under my belt and laid it on the table.
    “I came to kill you,” I said.
    “I know, I've been expecting you!”
    I mean, she was fucking nuts. We looked each other

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