Silas Jones: The Gang Fight

11

Silas awoke with a start. Something was off. It was too.. "QUIET THAT'S WHAT'S WRONG!"

Reano groaned beside him. "Not anymore."

"WHAT? WHY?" Silas was confused, he still couldn't hear the usual cacophony of traffic noises, screams and sirens.

"You woke up Silas.. That should be all you need to know right?" Silas scratched his head, dislodging a few stray earthworms that lived in the dirt encrusted all over his head. Absentmindedly he picked them up and popped them back into place. Reano stared open mouthed at Silas. "D.. D... Dude... you know you have worms... in your hair?"

"YEAH I KNOW. I HEARD SOMEONE SAY THAT WORMS ARE GOOD FOR THE ENVIRONMENT, AND THEY EAT DIRT. SO I CAUGHT SOME AND PUT THEM IN MY HAIR. I FEED THEM DIRT EVERY DAY. LAST I COUNTED I HAD 13."

Reano's jaw dropped and literally hit the floor, throwing his back out in the process. "DAMMIT THAT HURTS!" he shouted, as much as one can with their jaw on the floor. Silas was bewildered at this. Most people he had seen didn't drop their jaws. "SORRY MATE, I NEED TO GO PEE, SO I'LL JUST BE LEAVING NOW." and with that he walked out the pub door into the daylight streaming down between the tall street lamp posts of Ipswich.

Silas was filled with wonderment. He had never imagined that Ipswich would be so different, that the sun would shine at night. A feral child ran past his feet and growled at him. Silas returned this obvious Ipswich greeting with his own greeting from Logan, middle finger waved. He then left the entrance way of the pub. He thought he had only been in their for a few hours, which is why he thought the sun was shining at night. However, the truth was he had passed out drunk and slept till 10 the next morning. As he walked, his mind turned to the many things he had experienced since entering Ipswich, but mostly just on trying to remember Bill Tate's receptionists name. He finally came to the conclusion that she hadn't told him. His smile spread from ear to ear. He always told other people he was smart, and now he had just proven that to himself. He could remember some things. His thoughts were rudely interrupted as he walked straight into the side of a building.

"AWW SORRY MATE, I SHOULD HAVE BEEN WATCHING WHERE I WAS GOING." he shouted to no one in particular. From the window above a man stuck his head out. He psst psst'd until Silace looked up. "OH NICE PLACE TO LIVE!" he shouted. The man put his finger to his lips and whispered back "Buddy, you need to keep it down. People are still sleeping till 11. It's a thursday."

Silas hadn't heard one word of the man's whisper but he understood what a finger to the lips meant. Full of righteous indignation he shouted. "I'M NOT A FAG MATE. NO WAY I AM KISSING THAT!"

The man in the window sighed and shook his head. Some people never learn. He stuck his head back inside for a second, returning with a shotgun. With a pained look on his face, he said just above a whisper. "Shut the hell up!"

A look of comprehension dawned on Silas' face. Nodding his head he gave the logan greeting and walked away. He started to whistle but stopped himself. He had to be quiet. The homeless pigeons sitting on the lamp posts sighed with relief. Today was throwback thursday. Everyone honoured this timeless tradition, remembering when their ancestors from Uzbekistan used to get up at 6 every morning. All of Ipswich got up at the same, which accounting for the time zone difference happened to be 11 o'clock. Peace was restored and the pigeons,along with everyone else, went back to sleep.