C.U.N.T

The bar has furniture and other belongings affixed to the ceiling. It reminds me of a place in Dresden where you reach the loo through the back of a wardrobe. Here you push through plastic curtain flaps. A sign in each cubicle tells you in default font to place toilet paper in the bin. The bins are empty. There is a bedside table on the ceiling of the bar. Upon the bedside table is a lamp and a book. Upon the book is a pack of aspirin. The book is Céline, the aspirin unbranded. Each week I tell Caroline she has left her shoes behind. I point to the trainers above. They are 80's style basketball trainers suitable for a male with large feet. She doesn't laugh. I do. The quiz interrupts the hilarity, we're sitting on crates. We strain to hear the song intro. I tuck my hair behind my ears. Someone shouts the answer after three seconds. For the first round we are shy, we drink several beers labelled with a man's face. Caroline thinks he looks like Grandpa from The Munsters, I think he's more akin to Jim Broadbent. Whatever, we now feel like shouting. We shout loud, we stand up, we punch the sky. The host flinches. The winners acquire a bottle of red wine. No one feels like a winner when drinking the wine, I've had worse. We tell the host 'C U next Tuesday'. The quiz is on a Wednesday.