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Friday Short Story Time: "Threesome At Dead Rock"

A strange title this week. And it came together slowly over the course of the week, I’m not sure if it’s any good or not, but I’ll let you decide for yourselves.

Oh, I saw Harry Potter last night. It was pretty fun, especially the actiony bits, although some of the big emotional moments were a bit flat for me, and that epilogue is as silly on film as it was in the book. Still, fans will love it.

Now, on with the usual. More stories available around here if you want them.

Threesome At Dead Rock

By Nick Bryan


‘Okay, so what are you drinking?’

Jake didn’t know. It was their first pint since arriving here, so he should try not to appear wasted. But he didn’t have a clue what was on offer, as he’d never been here before. It was going to be some stupid lager, wasn’t it? All the colour and taste of sharpened wee, packed into a glass.

‘Who cares, mate?’ Covered it beautifully, Jake thought. ‘We had enough at the last place, it doesn’t matter what it is anymore.’

His friend didn’t look convinced at all, though, so he started pointing at their surroundings. ‘Isn’t this place amazing?’ He gestured around the dark spaces, weird cuboids and sticky walls, then kept going. ‘I mean, I’ve been trying to get us into Dead Rock for ages and we’re still here.’

Some menacing bass came at Jake from a nearby speaker and stirred the food in his stomach. The other guy looked equally nauseous, so Jake guided them over to a tall, silvery table.

There they perched, facing off across a floating tacky discus. One blaming the other for their presence, the other blaming him for blaming.

‘So,’ people were dancing nearby, and Jake wasn’t drunk enough for that yet, ‘what do you think of the place?’

Politely, he was told that it was a bit loud and did they need to keep drinking so badly that they had to go to such lengths?

‘C’mon,’ Jake shrugged, ‘I don’t wanna go home yet, that’s no fun. We’ve got time, neither of us has work tomorrow, let’s enjoy it! Yeah?’

Still no positive reaction. Christ. Jake sighed. They’d definitely need to drink more if he was going to make this work.


As the second drink sloshed towards its base, Jake sighed. Some prick had put a slow song on, and the response from the other side of the table remained lukewarm.

‘Okay, look, I’m sorry I dragged you here,’ he sighed, as his over-cheerful bullshit was not working, ‘I guess I was a bit too determined to stay out.’

And why was that? Well, it was a perfectly reasonable question.

‘Guess I’m still a bit down about breaking up with Jill, I mean,’ and he inhaled more conspicuously than he’d have liked, ‘I’ve tried a load of drugs and shit to get my head off her, but…’

This was more emotion than he usually disaplayed whilst drunk. If he cried into his pint, Jake would have to castrate himself right there at the table, and no-one needed to see that either.

To give the other guy his credit, he was trying empathy, discussing his last break-up and how he used to sit alone in his room, listening to sad songs, imagining they were all about him, but it was torture and Jake wasn’t sure what to say other than “me too!”, but even that would be a lie.

So he let his eyes wander across the bar and quickly managed to find a pretty brunette, perched on tall seating and playing with her drink. But before he could point her out as a male bonding topic, she tried to clamber down from her bar stool, only to hook heels on the frame and crunch her face into the floor.

At which point, they exchanged glances and burst out laughing. Jake hoovered up the final dregs of that drink, and was immediately offered another one. His benefactor dismounted his stool, with more grace than the brown-haired puddle over there, and fled before Jake had even finished nodding.

Clearly mutual laughter had not stopped it being awkward. Jake considered texting Jill while he had a few minutes to himself, but the queue at the bar was too short.


‘Y’know what I always wanted to do?’

No interruption, so Jake just kept talking, alcohol propelling him.

‘I mean, I’ve never been arrested, but y’know how they say “You have the right to remain silent” when they grab you? Didn’t you always want to reply with “That’s not what your mum said last night”? I mean, isn’t it obvious? Yeah?’

After he finally ran to a halt, there was no response from the other side of the table for a few seconds, until they both burst out laughing again. But this time his heart seemed to be in it.

‘I mean, fuck it, you’re going down anyway, you might as well.’

This was quite cynical wasn’t it? Was he not normally the upbeat motivational one?

And Jake sighed. ‘Maybe. But I’m here instead of being stoned for once, we may as well try and have fun. I mean, at least we’re not so drunk we’re falling off our chairs, yeah?’

They shared another laugh, but before either of them could continue, there was a commotion over by the entrance. The darkness and flashing lights kept going, but the music cut off. Another two drunks fell over, but neither of them were at Jake’s table.

Instead, they were shoved off their balance by the police, storming in and barring the doors, denying anyone who tried to leave. Instead, they grabbed them indiscriminately and ordered them to hold their arms apart while they were patting down.

Soon, they were picking through the rest of the crowd, every so often grabbing a small packet or bag out of their pocket and hauling them away.

Jake’s friend made eye-contact. All he could do in response was shake his head sadly and begin muttering. ‘Sorry, dude. I must admit, I brought some stuff out in case the night was shit. But, if it makes you feel better,’ he smirked, ‘I didn’t have to use it. And hey, at least I know what I’ll say when they read me my rights, know what I mean?’

Funnily enough, neither of those cheering facts seem to do their work, so, finally, Jake threw in an apology. After a fashion.

‘Look, sorry about this, yeah? Don’t think I can ditch them now. The cops are pretty close.’ And they were. ‘But couldya do me one favour? Text Jill later and tell her this is all her fucking fault.’

Copyright me, don’t copy, email for permission to copy. I’m going to Belgium next Friday, but since I’m not leaving until lunchtime, it doesn’t really count as an excuse to skip doing the story. Sorry if I end up using it as one.


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