I wrote this story about Billy who was a friend.
Very flawed but still a friend.
He once took some guys he knew, just over from Ireland, up to see me, in my new apartment in Copenhagen.
He had told them about this crazy guy, who had never smoked dope and had never been in trouble with the cops.
Who was basically and amazingly for them, honest.
These guys were hard men, pushers to the Stars.
Thin Lizzy was in town and they had VIP tickets to the backstage, as they were supplying the band and all the entourage with social enhancing sweeties.
The reason they wanted to see me, was to find out, what was the magic buzz that kept me honest.
I mean there must be something.
You couldn't be doing it for nothing.
Nobody done nothing for nothing in their murky world.
I met Billy when we washed dishes in The Peder Oxe Restaurant.
An Oasis of fun in the middle of a busy Copenhagen.
We had a lot of fun for the brief time we were there.
Image Courtsey of Peder Oxe
But we moved on. As one does when you start getting older and wiser.
But Billy never really got any wiser and paid the penalty in the end.
He loved David Bowie, and I thought of him every-time I heard the Star Man sing.
And the day Bowie died I could still hear Billy, (in my minds eye) busking for beer money and charming the ladies with his Spider from Mars ballad.
The story was written as part Tale part Poem part Long Free Streaming Song: Enjoy!
Image Courtsey of Pixabay
Another Billy the Kid - By Frank Sonderborg (Updated with Fantastic Pics)
His flashing teeth hit you as soon as you saw him. Laughing happy a twist of the head.
A smile black jacket tight jeans Nike's. A red scarf mischief in movement. Eyes big alert alive.
He played guitar. So where were the spiders? Ziggy classics a Billy specialty.
Borrowing a guitar to busk. Generating cash for beer to smooth talk easy girls.
All girls came easy to Billy.
Saw him in a restaurant with twelve girls and he still left them to check out some-more.
Confident. So sure always so sure.
I warned him about stealing from a restaurant we dish-washed in.
Rat-faced on expensive wine. Piss-eyed on cheap kitchen brandy.
There we worked long happy hours exhilarated by the warm afterglow.
He moved down South got married. Had a kid and thought he was happy.
No money no happy. Too young to die young.
Fell in with the Gallic wrong crowd. Smoked pot dropped acid got bitter.
Owed a living by someone. You perhaps.
Said he did not mean to shoot. It was the cops fault.
Image Courtesy of Pixabay
Spoke on the phone to him about his trial. Murder is so final. But life is not life.
Laughed and said he would be out in five. Guilty not him.
Prison was easy. A bad-boyzz club.
Free every weekend to catch the latest Movie.
Yes he did drive the getaway car. He liked fast cars.
Yes he did have a shotgun.He liked guns.
The cops had stitched them up. Waiting.
Like Dirty Harry. Are you feeling lucky?
Yes a gun went off and somebody died. But it was not his fault.
Image Courtesey of Dirty Harry
How could it be? He had gotten away. Driving fast.
Dumped guns in a river. Buried cash in a forest. Went home to a wife.
He would never work with Frenchmen again.
I asked him who could he trust.
His guitar. It played true every-time.
They bugged our meeting.
Knew our every move. Could have stopped us at any-time.
So whose fault was it really then? Not his.
The jury loved his teeth his smile his logic.
Misguided getaway driver for thieving murdering Johnny foreigners.
Stupid yes.
Promise it would not happen ever again.
Please let me go back to the bad-boyzz club.
Billy got away with it. This time.
The body on the stretcher coming out of the woods had his favorite Nike's on.
I saw it on TV. I knew it was him. He just had to go back and check on his pension plan.
Image Courtesey of Pixabay
Never trust a Frenchman. Are you feeling lucky punk?
He laughed he dropped acid he sang Ziggy songs he smoked pot he died.
Blown away by an avenging Gallic Garrett.
Never cross a Frenchman.
Billy told his Mum he was an entertainer on a Cruise-Ship.
I stood with her as they lowered him down.
I said at heart he was a good person.
But I knew the lie.
At heart he was just Another Billy the Kid.
Challenge 30 is a 30 day writing challenge issued by @dragosroua to write and post every day in January.
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