Black Books Fan Fic, not slash!

He lounged, the stalk draped elegantly between his second and third finger, his hand gently cradling the bulb of the glass as he swirled it�s contents around and around, usually wine experts do this to enhance the flavour, although Bernard�s sense of smell and taste had been greatly influenced by the 300 plus glasses of corner shop piss he drank each day, not to mention the 10,000 Marlborough fags. Which further served to remind him that he was off people, his lack of sense of taste and smell, had only caused to anger Manny, who had spend three hours dashing between Bernard�s emptying wine glass, and making coq-au-van out of half a glass of mouldy lambrusco. Bernard was also off women, and not just Fran, who was annoyed at him for poisoning her cousins (which Fran was admittedly rather pleased about) but her as well. No, not just Fran but women he was actually attracted too, the trouble was it was warm, and in between eating his special lolly and inventing new ways to send Manny�s apeoid body temperature soaring he had began looking at women again.

He�d never had much experience with women, and judging by the fungus in his hair, he wasn�t going to have anytime soon. Absentmindedly he began to chew on the mushroom and mused about his past loves. Emma, was it? Who had one day got a friend to phone up and tell him that she was dead, and if It wasn�t for Fran who met her at that bloody circucise class in the giant shoes then he could have lived a happy life, alright the love of his life was dead, but it gave him something to be miserable about, which although he felt it was his god given right sounded better if you had a miserable story. Then their was that women who lived next to Fran, who he�d tried to lovingly serenade with an accordion, however upon reflection she was a boring old fart, and then their was the summer girl, until Fran has scared her away with all this reclusive genius stuff. Come to think of it, Fran was a central part of running his love life, and strangely enough there was that one time, although only Fran is allowed to think of it.

So, Bernard was off women, and men for that matter, not that he was ever �on� men, although according to Freud, if every time Manny and he had an argument they had sex, they should be at it like rabbits. He rather suspected that Manny was gay, the Hawaiian shirts, obsessions with cooking and cleaning, not to mention the pony tail. In Bernard�s opinion pony tails were nearly always situated on top of horses arses.

Bernard was agitated, and running out of Fags, he only had one more, and Fran would be coming over later, and so he�d better get in another 10 bottles of wine. It was a wonder the little bookshop stayed afloat, Manny was over keen to the customers, and Bernard was a grumpy old fart, so it was a wonder anyone shopped their, and a definite wonder anyone came alone, if Bernard and Manny weren�t enough, the aroma of milldewey, dank dark space suffocated you, and you spend 10 weeks trying to get it out.

Bernard walked out of the shop, and surveyed Russell Square, this was his land, and he was king, sure other people like the government claimed to own it, but to Bernard this was his kingdom. It had everything he needed, and so he never ventured out of it, apart from when he had his occasional visits to Nick the fugitive accountant but that was before Manny came anyway, it has a pub, and an off-licence which also sold cigarettes, Bernard loved it so much he thought about building a retirement home their, but then quickly dismissed the idea, he knew that he would die in the shop, cold and alone, after Manny had left him for the 1,000th time, of the plague, or some other horrid disease. He chuckled to himself at the thought of Manny all dressed in black, crying and moaning that it was all his fault and that he could have saved him, and the cold faced girlfriend �Roweeennna� standing their trying to comfort him while Manny declared his undying love for Bernard. Not to mention Fran getting drunk at the wake, and potentially getting a date out of his death, he couldn�t die though It would bring total anarchy to the shop, the might get rid of the limpets, and Bernard didn�t trust Manny after he ate his bees and drunk the full bottle of Absinthe. Dying didn�t scare him, most writers were only discovered after their deaths, and he could leave the shop to Manny and Fran, and they could stuff him, or have him brought back to life by Disney animatronics, and he could still sit in the shop and swear at the customers, and no one would forget him.
Absentmindedly he reached into his breast pocket and, after fishing around he found his fags, he drew one out and then fumbled for his lighter, �shit� he exclaimed after he had spend around 10 minutes delving around in his pocket for said lighter, he contemplated asking one of his �subjects� for a light, but looking around saw no one.