The forty-year-old American man we had met in the other establishment was now tied to a railing with a collar. We sipped our drinks as the man licked the barman’s dog that was eating from its bowl. ‘What are you guys looking a- Oh my God, what the fuck’ Serena’s jaw was about to pop out of her face when she discovered her tied-up fellow countryman on all fours. ‘What is h e doing th ere?’ ‘Well isn’ t that obvious?’ Jacopo replied ‘ he’s licking a dog. Can’t a man lick a d
‘Blasted’ Richard ticks with the nail of his index finger on his reading lamp. With two flickers and a little pop, the lamp dies. A deep grunt escapes from Richard’s beard, accompanied by a thick cloud of smoke. The old man closes his book and takes the pipe out of his mouth, lifts himself from his antique chair and ties his bathrobe, concealing his proud chest that is covered by a soft layer of grey hairs. Richard sighs and leaves the room with strong strides, his book in one hand, pipe in the other. Though the light is out, the room is not entirely shrouded in darkness. Outside, billions of stars cast their ancient light into the room, faintly lighting up the room. The vague shadows the Milky Way manages to project onto the floor slowly move in the same direction, staying loyal to their creator as the house turns at precisely one round per hour around its own axis. The house doesn’t do so in order to create artificial gravity, the gravitational generator already has that covered, Richard just likes it that way. He likes to have a new view every time he lifts his eyes from his book. Not that he does so that often, he’s a very concentrated reader. He only stops to eat or to do some repairing on his space house, like changing a lightbulb. Other than that, he has a fairly quiet life. It hasn’t always been like this. Back in his days Richard used to be a smuggler. At first, he would smuggle nothing more than cheap foods and materials from the regions outside the Galactic Federation. He made a good living at that time, but the big money started to roll in after he had discovered Nutrans and its addictive impact on the many species of the Milky Way. It took about five earth years to build his transgalactic drug empire. In his heyday, he would have the entire Federation in the palm of his hand. Party-people, labourers, politicians, physicians, merchants, stock traders, all would pay big money for just one drop of Nutrans. But empires rise and fall and Richard too had to make way. Luckily for him, he already felt the decline of his power and managed to flee before the barbarians stood at his gates. With the relatively little amount of money, compared to the trillions he had made in his life, he managed to take on his flight, Richard was able to buy this house on earth. He found a guy that would make the mansion more space-friendly and dragged it all the way outside the Milky Way, where the Galactic Forces are unable to find him to this day. After about fifteen minutes, Richard walks back in, book and pipe in one hand, lightbulb in the other. He places his book on the little table next to his chair and lights up his pipe. Thick smoke fills the room, obscuring the twinkling lights of the galaxy outside. The lamp is fixed and Richard sits back in his chair. He grabs his book and strokes his long grey locks back on his head. og when he feels like it?’
Photo by @iamspiderone (Instagram)
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