Three o’clock in the morning, party time, and all that jazz. Having an average weekend, head like a hole, drunk in the morning. He stopped loving her today. 

Jimi: “I need a hot girl. I need love!” 

Gloria: “Are you lonesome tonight?” 

“Oh yeah. I could write a book.”  

“Tell me why.” 

“It’s the same old song, love hurts. She’s tuff, she’s a bitch! She’s out there somewhere.” 

Gloria: “Where’s the girl?” 

Jimi: “She’s leaving home, I don’t know why.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Do you wanna dance?” 

“Ten cents a dance. Let’s do it!” 

Two sleepy people, twisted, on the rebound. Tonight, is there any chance? Disco inferno, boom boom, tempted. Rum and coke, tequila, blurred lines. Looking for the perfect beat, time, waiting for the miracle. The waiting. 

Gloria: “Are you gonna kiss me or not?” 

“Just kiss her!”, shouts come clean out of the blue. 

Hand in hand, they leave the club. Back home, making love out of nothing at all. Loud noises, kissin’ and twistin’, sweating bullets. Explosions, climax, and the green grass grew all around. 

Head on, eye to eye, naked… 

Jimi: “Do you believe in magic?” 

Gloria: “What difference does it make?” 

“I think I love you.” 

“You better leave now.” 

“But I love you.” 

“Get up and go, bye bye love.” 

“You don’t have to be so cruel.” 

“What’d I say? Get up, stand up, go!” 

“Fine, I’m leaving. Don’t tell me again.” 

All Alone, a long walk home. Nothing to regret, except for Monday. And the band played waltzing Matilda, in the cold, cold night. 

Christopher Frew emerged into a world devoid of internet and cable TV, a time when imagination thrived in the absence of digital distractions. This era shaped his creative spirit, laying the foundation for a unique perspective on the world. His worldview expanded as he ventured across six continents, with Antarctica remaining the elusive seventh. Chris finds fulfillment in translating his thoughts onto paper, inviting those adventurous or perhaps just bored enough to immerse themselves in his creations. His works have graced the pages of anthologies such as Phobias, Vernacular, LFG, Adding Just a Minute, Unheard Phantoms, Soulful Verses, and found a home online at Mortal Mag. With joy as his guiding force, he pledges to persist in the art of writing.