The Boar/ Emily Neville
The Boar/ Emily Neville


Night-time was shining.
Two of us had just finished eating in the park;

A moonlit dinner of hummus and cheese bread,

An unusual and dedicated delicacy.

We met all of you – our friends – in the road next to the restaurant.

Happy hour was over, in theory perhaps.

While the rest laughed and screamed and stuck their faces to the window,

The last of our group finished clearing the tables.

Then we all went to yours.

The restaurant had been designed

As a treat pre-cleaning.

There was lots of cleaning to do.

A year’s worth of damage

And memories, pots and pans filled with the grime

That had fuelled five bodies for eight months, and

The floor had stains where we had, with our best and most seductive smiles,

Welcomed faces to the darkened room of a party,

And on the wall hung a banner for a birthday dating from October.

It was June now.

I cannot remember what started it exactly.

Something innocent perhaps

We were slouched on the couch in our wrinkled wonders of clothes,

Two were drinking beer,

One spilt it.

Instead of getting up and grabbing a wet cloth, He laid there comfortably for, after all,

They were going to clean anyways.

Thus started pandemonium.

Oil was thrown out of the window so as to not clog the sink.

A spider was vapourised with deodorant, and as a long trail of liquid made its way down the white wall,

The friend who had spilt the beer and killed the spider (finally) grabbed a cloth in an oiled

filled pan laying in the unclogged sink. Someone else got up.

They took the kettle and threatened to throw it on various individuals.

The kettle opened and water sprang Our baptised friend was drenched and, in retaliation,

Took the oiled-filled pan laying in the unclogged sink

And blew its contents on the owner of a sacred (and light yellow) t-shirt.

On the other side, two of us replenished with hummus and cheese bread,

Took it upon ourselves to play cricket with the mop An entertaining game where one of the principal objects (a sponge)

Had the unfortunate desire to aggressively wipe out the tacky glasses on the glass table.

Then one of us really surprised the others.

He grabbed the one and only broomstick And shattered the pouf.

Eager to participate, after a few seconds of thoughtful silence and observation,

Banshees yelled and wrestled on said pouf. It was fun. Then one of us got up and headed to bed,

Promising to clean tomorrow, after a good dinner.


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