JOE GARDNER

THE LIFE AND LOVES OF JET TEA
Being a memoir of the extraordinary circumstances lived and endured by an earnest young Romantic.

Sample No. 2 Half a mile away, Maurice slowly and shakily lifted his face from the cushion of his living room sofa, like a turtle being born. He turned to face the wall. The words 'I AM A CUNT', in two-foot high letters, took pride of place above the television. Maurice recognised his handwriting.

Sample No. 1 Elsewhere, Jet Tea was eagerly marching to and fro amidst the hot, bumpy crowd, wiggling his fingers excitedly and jolting his head from side to side in an attempt to locate Gemma. He thought he spied the back of a blonde head leave the room toward the beer garden and gasped embarrassingly. Fortunately the music was so loud that nobody heard. When the possible Gemma had completely disappeared he pounced into a short jog through the pub to catch up with her. It was cut short by a powerful collision with the sweaty, outstretched arm of a large man. The next half-second was obscured by an almighty downpour of lager over Jet Tea's face. An unfortunate outcome of the collision. Jet Tea blinked with alarm and looked up. There, he found the furious stare of a man recently bereaved of his pint. 'You prick' exclaimed the man, loudly. 'Sorry' said Jet Tea with partial disinterest as he attempted, unsuccessfully, to sidestep his new adversary. 'You spilt my pint' continued the man, angrily. Jet Tea wiped the beer from his face and looked about the gentleman. His arm was outstretched among the crowd and had been when the collision occurred. 'Sorry' he said again, 'but you did have your arm out mate.' The man screwed his face up at this. 'What?' 'Well' said Jet Tea, 'its well busy in here and you're waving your arms about. It was bound to happen.' Jet Tea had adopted his slightly exaggerated cockney tone when saying this. 'Fuck you. Are you gonna get me another one?' The man's arm remained outstretched. Whereas before it was likely positioned so as part of a dance routine, it was now spread in a threatening manner, accentuating his superior stature over Jet Tea. 'I don't think so' said Jet Tea, defiantly. 'I can't afford it. My mum stopped giving me pocket money because I kept knocking people's drinks over.' 'Don't try and be funny with me, you prick' the man shouted back. At least he recognised the attempt at humour, thought Jet Tea. Jet Tea wasn't sure why he was being so brave in the face of spilt beer, given his size and (for the time being) sobriety, but either way, he now realised that, if his new foe wanted to hurt him, he would have done so already. Jet Tea continued to prod the beast. 'It was your fault' he shouted. 'You can't go around with your arms out like a bull in a candy store. And look, you're still doing it.' The man would not lower his arm. He continued to try and intimidate Jet Tea with his wingspan, clutching a near-empty plastic pint cup. 'Buy me a new one' he said. 'If I knock your beer over again and its my fault I promise I will buy you a pint and a new hat' replied Jet Tea, before ducking under the arm and darting outside, followed only by the begrudging gaze of his victim.

Tea Tone / Joe Gardner