Raphael #13: Things about London

by Raphael the Contradiction

Now I don't know how many people know this, but in London the bars close at 11. But the Internet Cafe stays open all damn night it seems, so I'll be writing with the help of my good friend Jose Cuervo. Well, it would be Jose Cuervo, but he's not here. I walked into a bar and asked for a shot of tequilla, I have no idea what they gave me but it wasn't Cuervo. The British truly know nothing more than beer. They didn't even have a lime to give me, but none the less I had a few more. I thought I would take in a little of the local flavor here when I was at a museum and buy a chocolate candy bar. I looked at the ingredients to see if there were any sweet, sweet, almonds in it and there wasn't, but something seemed missing so I looked a little more and figured out the missing element was sugar. Now I pose the question: What the hell is the point of chocolate without sugar?

Damjn I'm hot.

Something else strange is that Pizza Hut here isn't a joke, it's an actual two story restaurant with waiters and menus it's weird. Like the Twilight Zone with a red roof, but they don't even have red roofs just signs of red roofs. I was drinking in a bar when I noticed a group of people that could use the table I was at so I said, "You guys can use this table if you like" Then out of the group stood a tall and imposing man with a deep black beard and oddly enough a Viking helmet he told me that I could use the table for as long as I'd like. What a nice Viking. Today was cool, I was going to London Bridge on the subway. I think I landed in a religious car because on one side was a bunch of black Muslims preaching the Koran, on the other side was a group of black Christians preaching the gospel, then one of the Christians came over and gave me a leaflet and asked, "Do you know if you'll go to Heaven when you die?" I looked into her huge eyes and said "I don't know, maybe I'll stop in and have a beer." Then I put on my headphones and listened to Bob Marley. I wish people would stop speaking to me in Italian, and the people who aren't are too busy asking me if I speak English. I hate these people because they ask me like this: "Dooooo yooouuuu speak Enngglisshh, Enngglishh?"

"Yeah I'm an American, do you always speak that loud, or just when your insulting someone?" Well, I'd like to say I learned something deep and meaningful here, but I didn't. I miss my George Foreman grill. And Dwarf, I had a rum and Coke for you tonight, and a shot of tequilla for anyone else who wanted a dedication.