The encounter wih pong wiffy

I got away from thirty Australian pensioners, its a break.To them its a break from walking, to me a break from them. I sit in a cafe, order a liter of water to quench the thirst that this summer is, and which is forming sandstorms on my skin, and just as the first swallow of the lush cool enters my mouth, a man sits right next to me, and such a mans as can only be described as pong wiffy..

The sudden abruption of the long awaited hydration moment, forces me to smash ice cubes with teeth. He smells of alcohol, and is not leaving.

I slide the chair a little to the left and away from him, whilst he slides to the left and into me.

"Heeey" goes he.

He is familiar as a sort of a stencil for a type of a million similar unknown seaside bar poltergheists, and the only name that seems to be surfacing up in my mind is " Whiskey" . He defiantly smells of the beverage. What is his name for god's sakes," Golden Grouse" "Bell's" is the most I can squeeze out of the brain post having recounted the entire history of StariGrad from palaeolithic to barley mobile grandmas making the city tour twice as long alas the need of facts needed to fill it being double.

" You are familiar,"I simile and apologize, "but I can not at all remember as of where I know you from". I had hoped that was going to defend me from the uninvited, and allow for a quick gossip with a colleague.

Mr Pong stinking wiffy,however, continues to sway his alcoholic corpse towards at me forcing my to pursue guessing where do I know him from, further more his vaguely familiar face seems to be vaguely suggesting that i buy him a drink, but I am not giving in.

"Where were you last Friday" he asks half winking as if he where about to reveal a great secret of ours. " On the Island" I reply. " Yea" He nods me on, " But where on the island?" " I was working. Do you work in a restaurant? I make an attempt . " No i don't work in a restaurant" He sniggers whilst a cloud of alcohol evaporates from his body killing all he flies which had until than buzzed around him.

"Where else had you been that day?". " In town. Do you per chance work on the ferry? " No" He replies waving a grimace of deep offense at the suggestion." And where else have you been" He continues to strum at my patience .

" Just tell me where do i know you from i really can remember" I offer my last offer of politeness." The stinker is not giving up, he is mimicking my movements as a bush does the wind. I decide to give him treatment worthy of a boring dog, i turn my back to him, as rudely as i can.

" On Friday. You where driving around with me." The words he's been very obviously dyig to say splutter out" In the bus"

"Oooh." I answer. " And you are, the, bus driver?" " Yes " He proudly squeezes out the last gush of whiskey stained steam. " I am a bus driver ".