Antigone has a plan

Antigone lights a fag and glances at Seneca. She says ‘It’s in the little things, the devil is’. He gulps down his beer and says nothing and then says ‘You know, the tv is too loud in this rub-a-dub’. Somewhere, in the middle of some woods, some monkeys fuck like rabbits.

She turns to Plato, on her left. ‘It’s in the lack of consideration of people on the streets, their pushing , their stares, their unsubtle analysis’. He strokes his beard, lifts an eyebrow and says nothing and then says ‘I’m sorry kid, but if you pay peanuts, you get monkeys’.

Socrates is in the corner, counting his money. He picks a coin from the pile. ‘It’s in the weather, in the shrillness of the voices, in the beer taste’, she whimpers. He snaps his fingers and the coin is gone. He smiles and says nothing and then he says ‘Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.’

Antigone gives up and tries to stay quiet . The door opens, she doesn’t see the boys that enter but feels the winds that carry the flashbacks. ‘I’ve lived this before, I’ve felt this chill, I’ve just found a fiver and bought a coffee and, oh gosh, I’m so happy…’. As quick as it comes it is over.

Antigone has a plan, and nobody is gonna like it.

‘It’s in the water baby, it’s in the pills that pick you up’.