~ There was a takedown on Agricola Street yesterday, just around the corner from our house. I was walking home and this team of black-clad cops was charging up someone’s front steps. There were cops with guns drawn everywhere, and all these crazy science-fiction-looking rifles. Cool!

I ran home to get my camera. Mark Black headed up the block with the mini-DV but by then it was all over. I guess with that much firepower you expect to get results pretty quick.

Then everyone quit milling around and went back inside the bingo hall on the corner of Agricola and Bloomfield, where they were probably setting up for their stupid flea market when all the excitement broke out.

~ Faith got rooked at that crummy flea market. She bought a jigsawrr puzzle and there wasn’t a single edge piece in the whole box. Not one. Bingo players are all a bunch of smelly cancer-laden bastards.

And yes, that includes your Aunt Hilda. I know you love her but sorry it’s the truth.

Faith is our roommate from New Zealand. She was living in Williamsburg before she moved here, so she’s got some of that Brooklyn sass in her too.

Then the Americans got all American on her, and she wound up here in Halifax, in laid-back, friendly Canaduhrr.

Anyways, it’s awesome to have a roommate who drinks 100-proof vodkuhrr and who says “Fucking hell” all the time.

We’re going to glue all these puzzles pieces on a piece of cardboard and make a little collage, and then take it into the bingo hall and set it on fire with a Bic lighter.

3 thoughts on “bingo

  1. This weren’t no modern jigsaw puzzle. This was a ratty old flea market jigsaw puzzle, with a box that promised 1000 pieces and probably delivered around 400.

    And soon it will be a smouldering pile of ashes, and so will the bingo hall.

  2. Heard today that the Bingo hall closed after “2 bingo sessions a day for 50 years”.
    Is E V E R Y T H I N G in this city closing?

Comments are closed.