Samson clocks off work around the same time today because its tuesday its tuesday and tuesday is every other day. He skips through the carpark a battered station wagon keys in the ignition a police car speeding off into setting sun in the rearview. Samson leaps four stairs forwards purposeful stride through the hotel foyer golden crystal chandeliers donated by the mormon church next door swaggers towards the bar. Stop. Soft white material centimetres from his nose smells like gin. Black tie and tuxedo jacket hangs off broad shoulders both have a series of bloodstains. Why cant i look up at his face?
"Excuse me sir."
The mans big voice fills the hallway thick with sound.
"Sir...Sir, I can't let you in here today sir."
Why cant i look up at his face?
Samson looks at his shoes black leather cracked and disintergrating he is a dead weight on his sole.
"Sir...they told me sir...they told me that youd know why sir. Said theres someone waiting at home for you sir.
In the car speeding home Samson tunes in lets the radio fill the blank space in his mind.
Its a christian talk show first caller is Paul from Burnside with a bible battle cry for patriarchy.
"Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord, because the husband is the head of the wife as also Christ is the head of the church--he himself being the savior of the body. But as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything."
Samson pulls in at a service station injects liquid life into the old girl buys a packet of cigarettes and a daily newspaper headline reads "Wife throws husbands penis from window of moving car."