Bromford Below - Part 09

»Is that treasure map still showing arrows?« I ask Professor Sideburns.

The Professor nods.

»And are the arrows still pointing to the front of this train?« I ask Professor Sideburns.

The Professor nods.

»And do you still think the treasure map will lead us to the fabulous sunken island of Greenlion?« I ask Professor Sideburns.

»That is hard to say«, the Professor says, »given the unpredictable circumstances we are in at the moment.«

And the llama gives me a punch on the arm.

»Go on with this story, dude«, the animal says, »or we will all fall asleep at once.«

Story? I don't know what the llama is talking about. There is no story. Only another inhabitant and apartment owner of 666 Whitaker Lane trapped in a subway waggon.

»Did you notice that somebody stole one of the golden sixes from the house numbers next to our great entrance door?«

It is George McCartney speaking, George, the trombone, the musician from Apartment 9.

»We are living in apartments at 66 Whitaker Lane at the moment«, he says.

»Last month somebody stole my newspaper from my mailbox while our concierge had to go to the restroom. Strange times these are. We don't live in a good neighborhood anymore.«

»What's the name of his hobby band again?« Kylie whispers in my ear.

Nigel is standing near-by.

»Wasn't the name something like The Beetles, The Bugs, The Bucks or The Bungles?« he asks.

»Who cares?« the llama spits out. »It's a long time ago since they were fab.«

Shouldn't everybody be absolutely fabulous, no matter how famous they are?

»We were The Buggles, John, Paul, Ringo and me«, George McCartney says and starts to blow his trombone with shorter and longer breaks for talking and taking deep breathes. »Looks like I am going to miss another band rehearsal tonight.«

»When I was young«, Professor Sidesburns says now, »there was a beat-club in the basement of the skyscraper on 666 Whitaker Lane. I went there once or twice when I was a student. And I think I saw your band there.«

Is he who we used to call Professor Burnside when the llama called him that rewriting history now? A beat-club in Speedy's Bar and Café? Is that confirmed? Is that canonical?

»And the native Indians used to bury their ritual llamas by the bend of the river on that exact spot«, the animal predicates. »That's history, baby!«

Whoa, what's the point? What's the point?

One last trombone howl and Nigel has opened the doors to the next waggon.

🎄🎄🎄🕯🎄🎅
🎄🎄🎄

"Bromford Revisited"

As I wake to a sunset
The light dances on the Mersey
And I think of the 96
As the tears fall down on me
And there is courage
There is pride
You can see it in your eyes
Fight for justice fight for life
There are angels in these skies

As the night falls around me
I see joy and devotion
These times will never leave
Like the rain on the ocean
There is dignity and pride
There is poetry and life
There are ghosts within these stones
There's defiance in these bones

And all the hatred they tried to throw at you
But you stayed so strong
Yeah all the hatred it never was the truth
So keep keeping on
This is forever
We'll never leave you now
This is forever
We'll never leave you now