Bromford Below - Part 02

 

»Where is Mrs Whitaker?«

We have just gone through the sliding doors to the next waggon.

Mrs Whitaker is gone, just like the previous waggon we landed in. Where did she go to? Somehow I have got the feeling she went to San Malo.

Looking back I can only see tracks disappearing in the darkness behind the train.

'Waggon 24' is written on the door that leads nowhere now but to the tunnels. But there is no waggon 24.

»And Mrs Whitaker owned and lived in Apartment 24? « Kylie asks. »Now our apartment on the fifteenth floor?«

»No«, I say kind of confused, »back in that December Jesus lived in your apartment.«

»Jesus?« the llama says. »That's so cool.«

»Well, I thought he was Jesus«, I admit. »But maybe I ate too much or drank too much the previous twenty-three days. The whole house was filled with egg-nog then.«

»And nobody wants to drink that«, Nigel states.

»So, do you think this is waggon 23?« Professor Sideburns asks.

And again I spot a familiar face now standing up from one of the plastic underground seats. He is a bearded man now in his late fifties wearing some kind of uniform.

»You are really doing this flashback thing, aren't you?« The llama is whispering in my ear.

»Bromford Bibble?«

The uniformed man is Frank Lapidus from Apartment 2 on 666 Whitaker Lane. He is an air craft pilot who has just overcome a drinking problem after some really troubled times as he told me when we last met near the washing machines in the basement of the apartment house lately.

»Where are you going, Frank?« I ask.

»I was about to ask you the same thing«, Frank says. »Where are we?«

»I hoped you could tell me that.«

But the pilot is shaking his head.

»Last thing I remember is me leaving 666 Whitaker Lane. I was on my way to the airport and scheduled on flight 815 of Oceanic Airlines to Sydney, Australia, and back. Next thing I know is being here in this … train?«

»Lost, all over again«, the llama remarks.

🎄🎄

"Bromfordian Candles"

It’s been a battle just to wake and greet the day
Then they all disappear like sugar in my coffee
(Sugar in my coffee)
A hint of sweetness but the bitterness remains
The acidity devouring my body
(Devouring my body)

But I am learning to let go
Of everything I tried to hold
Too long ‘cause they all explode
Like Bromfordian candles

I used to feel everything like a flame
But now it’s a struggle just to feel anything
(To feel anything)
I watch the world from a window on a hill
Everyone moving as I’m standing still
(I’m standing still)

But I am learning to let go
Of everything I tried to hold
Too long ‘cause they all explode
Like Bromfordian candles

Ah-woo, ah-woo
Ah-woo, ah-woo

But I am learning to let go (ah-woo)
Of everything I tried to hold (ah-woo)
Too long ‘cause they all explode
Like Bromfordian candles
Like Bromfordian candles