Bernard is at the bar, drinking and smoking as usual.

There is not much else to be said for him.

Oh, except for the fact that his usual black suit is now white. He didn't clean it; the crazy people must have.

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" 'Is your deductible income -- subtractible from your -- if you live in a--' "

Bernard crumples the sheet of paper into a ball in a sudden, violent move, and he viciously hurls it, not caring where it goes so long as it's away from him.

"What the fuck does that mean?!" he bellows after it, wherever it's gone.

[This post is open for tagging ( Read more... )

It's half ten in the morning, and Manny, dressed in shorts, sandals, and a brighter-than-humanly-necessary Hawaiian shirt, shuffles downstairs to make breakfast. After putting the kettle on, he picks his way past a general assortment of clutter and rubbish and slips through the pair of curtains in the doorway that led to the bookshop ( Read more... )

Every so often the inner machinations of the macrocosm that is the universe align in such a way as to bring tears to men's eyes and make him wonder at creation ( Read more... )

There's no telling how Bernard Black wound up slouched in the armchair at Milliways, or how long he has been there. Bernard certainly couldn't tell you the answer to either question, though this may have something to do with the fact that he is utterly dead to the world with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, and has been that way for some time now ( Read more... )

There's an irishman sitting on the couch in his bookshop, doing exactly what is shown in the icon.

Yes, his lollipop is frozen wine.

Go ahead, bother him.

I dare you.