ache1
chalked a white circle onto the Prussian blue carpet of her room at the hotel,
while Brother Skunk tried to distinguish... anything
in the electronic scree of the wall-mounted television unit, the channel digits
glowing a crimson “16” in the room’s
lowered lighting. The infrequent blasts of clean sound bracketing white noise
suggested to him two women simultaneously giving birth, moaning loudly with
only occasional and enthusiastic male encouragement.
cog:
yes, yes tha-
static
cog:
keep going keep going that’s i-
static
Skunk:
This sounds like women having babies.
ache1:
Huh?
Skunk:
This sounds like women giving birth. That’s hardly pornography, is it?
ache1
laughed and spilled out the content of a small leather pouch into the circle:
marbles.
ache1:
Do you want me to call down, it’s not expensive to have it decoded or whatever.
I d-, it’s not actually a porno channel per
se
nodding
her head sideside as she whined these last two syllables, an implication of
contempt held if not for the phrase itself, then perhaps at least for her own
current use of it
ache1:
it’s actually, as far as I can make out it’s just a video that someone, I guess
the porter or the receptionist, puts on at ahm, a certain time
crossing
the room to the dresser.
ache1:
See this?
handing
Skunk a printed card with a programme listing which repeated itself over a
three day period.
Skunk:
Right, right.
ache1:
And they just... It’s on a rota, so... I’m guessing it’s for the businessmen
who’re only here for a couple of days, say at a conference or something, right?
Skunk:
Right, right, so they can, it’s cheaper than them getting a prostitute, and it
serves the same kind of, ehm...
ache1:
Yip. And it it, it well, I guess it is to stop them bringing prostitutes back to the hotel.
The
groaning from the television reached a staggered crescendo still cut with
blasts of spat static hiss.
ache1
(laughing): Maybe... actually I hadn’t thought of it like that, yeah, I guess.
And just... the management probably ahm... absolve?
Is it absolve?
Skunk:
What, like their collective conscience?
ache1:
Yeah, that... they’re absolving, they’re, none of them really want a porno channel or video or
whatever but, well, “it’s better than the place coming down with whores!”
The
vague entertainment again swallowed in coded pixels, ache1 stood to
turn down the volume leaving just flickering pornography to complement the
bedside lamp. She sat down cross-legged opposite Skunk, the ring of marbles now
between them.
Skunk:
Marbles
picking
up two of the coloured spheres and enjoying their coolness in his palm and the
glassy clicking sound they made that reminded him of a Newton’s cradle he’d
seen somewhere, possibly just in a shop somewhere.
ache1:
Well, yeah. But one man’s marbles is
another man’s jazz chess.
Skunk
(laughing): Jazz chess? Jazz chess.
Laughter.
Skunk:
Riiiiight...
ache1
looked at him expectant, as if she’d been told only half of a joke that he’d
already heard, and he’d raced on to the punchline and the yuks ahead without
waiting for her.
Skunk:
What?
ache1
(handing him a medium-sized clear red marble): Okay. Right. Now that’s your shooter, okay?
Skunk:
Thanks.
ache1:
Right, now the... Are you sure you
haven’t played this before?
Skunk:
Well, no not in a circle, no. We... we used to ehm... The way we played it at school was one person
would throw their marble a bit away, then the other person would try to hit it
with theirs. If they missed, then you got to throw at their marble, and it went
on like that until the distance between them... until they were close enough
for one person to score. And then they got to keep that marble.
ache1:
What did you guys call that? Did you call it mar-
Skunk:
Yeah, we just called it marbles. I suppose every school has a game called
marbles that... you know, they’ll all be different, or just variations... ehm,
on
ache1:
Well, this is a bit different. The idea is that... in theory, we’re each supposed to put an equal number of
marbles inside this circle, right? But seeing as you don’t have any just yet,
we’ll just play with mine. So... our marbles are in the circle, witness
indicating
the arena between them
ache1:
and we use these
indicating
the clear green shooter bewteen her own thumb and forefinger
ache1:
to try and knock them out. And obviously you get to keep however many marbles
you knock out of the ring, and the winner is the person with the most.
Skunk:
Right.
ache1:
But! If you, if for some reason...
Say you don’t shoot hard enough, or you connect with too many marbles in the
circle, or whatever, and your shooter stays inside, then I get to play for your
shooter in my go, and you can only get it back if you
Skunk:
I have to use the smaller
ache1:
Yes. Exactly. You have to use one of the marbles you’ve already knocked out. Of
course that’s assuming that you have
knocked some out but ah
smiling
ache1:
if you haven’t, if you lose your
shooter in there on your first throw, then it’s game over for you, my
friend, and you forfeit everything.
Skunk:
Proceed!
