...Bouncing back at the Compressed Fest

Saturday 24th July · 18:00 Bounce Charity Compressed festival, The Miller Pub, 96 Snowfields, London

‘Hey, you there! you ain’t gettin’ in if you don’t know the password’

'‘I’m here to see Mr Pontiac’

‘What’re you crazy?! Marvin’s out. And if I were you I wouldn’t be mentioning that name round here more than necessary’

‘This is Pontiac’s casino right?’

’What does it look like, grapefruit?

‘Looks like Pontiac’s place to me’

‘Okay wiseguy, I told you already, he ain’t in. Now scram before I beat your teeth out and kick you in the stomach for mumbling. ’

That would be a shame, seeing as I’ve an important message for Mr Pontiac; concerns a certain Cimrman’

‘Oh, one of Jara’s mob. Sorry no can do. Leave. Now’

‘...’

‘Say, who are you anyways?

‘...’

‘you hear me? WHO ARE YOU? Stop standin’ in the shadows like that, come into the light so I can see what kind of an ugly mug i’m dealing with’

‘...’

‘You gonna say something or what? Watch out brother, this heater’s pointed straight at your heart’

‘My least vulnerable spot’

‘Wha!?... where’d he go?!

Having left the puzzled muscle at the door amidst a blaze of misdirected gunfire, Georges navigated the narrow, dimly lit corridors with ease. He knew he shouldn’t have come, but this was his last chance. He was at the bottom of the barrel and he was scraping it. He loved a challenge though, and never a better time to bounce back than in these compressed surroundings. Opening a heavy wooden door he found himself in a room he remembered well from happier days long past. The two men inside were sitting in big leather armchairs and had obviously been discussing important business. They turned to face him with thin smiles wreathed in cigar smoke.

‘Mr Pontiac; Mr Cimrman; greetings. What I have to say will fulfil your wildest dreams’

Their friendly expressions masked a glint of uncertainty which grew increasingly apparent as Georges’ story unfolded, accompanied as it was by the faint strains of a piano and saxophone rising from the gaming tables the floor below.

By the time Georges had finished though, both wore smiles stretching from ear to ear...