She was selling raffle tickets in an opium den when I first met her.  Me? I was there for my peace of mind, a little rest and relaxation following my exertions at a less than agreeable house of ill repute. Nothing more.

My mistake?  My first mistake would be more accurate! Whatever, that blunder being an over generous purchase of a whole book of draw tickets, whereas the painfully skinny Chinaman, the one she had poked in the stomach with a sharp stick to awaken from his sweet dreams told her to go forth and multiply – at least I think that’s what his flurry of audible gesticulation conveyed.

To buy a ludicrous quantity of raffle tickets could mean but one thing. She, even through my gossamer eyes of opiate stupor, had the mark of sensuousness about her. Ever the fool for a pretty face and all that! Didn’t even ask her what my donation might, if lady luck smiled, gain me. I hardly cared anyway.

Ah, I almost forgot! My second gaffe. That was, albeit with the narcotized slurred tongue of one who has over indulged, that of engaging her in idle chat. Well that’s a lie; my desire to ‘chat’ with her was not without obvious motive as any lascivious fool would understand.

She told me she collected unicorns and moreover that I had the makings of a fine unicorn myself. I, even in my current state was taken aback.

“How so?” 

“You see Sir, and although it may be hard for you to acknowledge in your current condition, have all the hallmarks of purity and grace associated with unicorns.” 

“Madam, by the way what is your name?”

“I don’t have one Sir.” 

“Well nameless one how you see ‘purity and grace’ in me I cannot fathom yet you overlook the indisputable evidence before you, namely that I am of human construct.” 

“Even so I can see into your very soul and from my vantage point I see a unicorn. Furthermore I am Sir, a virgin and you are no doubt aware that only the untouched can charm, capture and claim as her own one of your kind.”

“Did you say ‘charm’?” 

“Oh yes.”

There, that one bloody word, there you have my third error of judgment. I fell for her ‘charm’, well ‘charms’ to be a little more precise and asked (politely I stress) for a kiss. She acceded to my request with some fervour, indeed I supposed a cheap hotel room – one near the old railway sidings would serve my purpose – and an afternoon of unbridled lust would be on the cards. I certainly thirsted for it. However that was not to be for the very instant she unlocked herself from our embrace I turned quite literally, no false manifestation I stress, into a fucking unicorn! Believe me for I speak the God’s honest truth.

What next? Well these days I spend my wretched life chained to a pomegranate tree surrounded by a barbed wire fence, in a field of wild poppies. The girl with no name feeds and grooms me that is all. There are none of my kind that I am aware of in the vicinity although I suspect she spoke the truth when she said she was a fancier.

I live in the unlikely hope she plans to deliver me, the prized stallion of supposed purity and grace, up to a unicorn stud farm!  Other than that I lead my solitary life as a putative legend from antiquity to those who will never know for sure that I ever existed.


      1. I did that once, loaned myself out to a stud farm to be “studded”. Ya get REALLY sore after a few weeks, and the appeal of the whole thing losses a great deal of its luster quickly thereafter.

      1. Listen, it is fabulous. Start to finish. I personally like things that bit off centre that do not take the traddy hearts and flowers route. I don’t do it myself. If I’d to seriously write that I’d pack it in. SO that bit about ‘Well these days’ had me decking myself. I am not just saying that. I loved this piece.

      2. The blog thing will not let me reply to your comment re ‘hamsters’ for reasons unknown hence I’ll reply here! So you’re telling me that your hamsters are like my Svetlana then…mere figments of our respective musings. I bet Svet would like a hamster though!

      3. Best kept secret I don’t have one. My younger girl did at one point. A relationship had burst up and she phoned in floods of tears. I told her to come home but she started about this hamster she and her partner had –yeah— so I told her to bring it. Anything to get her home you understand cos at that time this was a bad relationship, though I tell you I was conflicted re that hamster! ‘Oh Dad won’t let me,.’ says she.
        ‘Of course he will. he will love Sly.’
        WELL. He went to get her and when he returned he went titz about did I know she had a thing in a cage and there was sawdust and straw all over the bleeping car seat. HIS car of course. She comes in the house behind him howling Dad didn’t want Sly. SO I put my arm around her and said ‘Of course he does. Abso. But I see or smell that hamster and he is out, have you got that?’
        Sly was a delight, I have to say . But the blog hammies happened by mistake really. Hamsters have such expressive faces.

    1. The odd thing is – and this is true; my son showed me the internet link things – there are grown men out there who actually have a My Little Pony fetish! A weird old world!

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