Oh it gets dark, it gets lonely / On the other side from you

Now the birds in some bizarre pre-feasting ritual were hurtling themselves vertically out of the trees.  The spaces between the trees began to fill up as though there was a black lake silently rising from below. The scent of the Spur became a desolate one, the scent of pine boxes or rooms cleaned out after someone has died there. At this point it became obvious to me that we were in a pretty bad fucking way, and all the bad words that could have been said, screamed or spat at that fucking gent and all the fuckwits like him the world over simply got swallowed up in the dark, echoed back thin and tinny. But I could not find the words to swear. In fact all I could really think of was the ‘Wuthering Heights’ song,

Oh it gets dark, it gets lonely / On the other side from you 

I pine alot, I find the lot /Falls through without you …

Too long I roam in the night 
I’m coming back to his side to put it right 
I’m coming home to wuthering, wuthering 
Wuthering Heights

Heathcliff, it’s me, Cathy, I’ve come home– 
I’m so co-o-o-ld, let me in-a-your-windo-o-ow

Heathcliff, it’s me, Cathy, I’ve come home– 
I’m so co-o-o-ld, let me in-a-your-windo-o-ow

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In fact since I was basically dead and had no care for the good opinion of my sickly-looking companion I may even have sung and danced it along the wiley road according to the 1970s pseudo historical-floating sleeve fashion, while the wind did, in fact, go wuthering around the pines, it got dark, it got lonely, and I was so fucking cold that my voice wavered on the word.

Finally – finally – finally – another vehicle appeared, probing headlights first, from around the bend. It was an old beat up panel van with white-walled tires; two young guys in front.

“We need a lift.”

“Sure,” said the guys. “Open it up.”

There were six Indian guys packed inside it, on a carpetless floor, with a slab of Budweisers open. It would have been a rollicking ride back down the spur except that I felt so tired, and Chip, in his lunacy, was pushing his scabby knee against my leg.

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