I'm looking for my mate Rastus. We were close as only mates can be. We ate together, lived together and, dare I say it, slept together.
My younger sister introduced us in 1986 and it was love at first sight. You know how sometimes it just clicks? It was just like that. For weeks, I could only hear the choirs of angels and the musical whispering of the clouds as they magically brushed a perfect world. For a couple of months we were inseparable. Every morning he would wait while I showered and shaved and then we would read the paper together as the sun slowly rose, a match made in heaven. Never had I met someone so perfect. He wasn't just beautiful, he was brave too, he once ran into the road and caused a Capri that had been annoying the neighbourhood to screech to a halt only inches from his perfect body. No words were spoken, the driver, shamefaced and embarrassed drove quietly away, his head hung low, his lesson learnt.
It all ended one weekend. I left him with a cheery kiss, waved to his dark body as he stood at the window and left to join the TA. He wasn't happy and didn't want me to go, we had argued late into the night but my mind was set. I had to go, and I think deep down that he understood.
Sunday evening I returned, aching and tired, but proud that I had passed TA selection. Fewer moments in a man's life equal that heady moment when he is told he is entitled to wear a pair of lightweights. As I bounced through the front door I instantly knew that something was wrong, that the house was empty...
For days I waited. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. In my mind I replayed our final days together, searching for clues, for hints as to where he might have gone. I called friends and relatives, drove all day scanning crowds for a glimpse of his beautiful face and finally collapsed, exhausted, into my bed, our bed, as the clock struck midnight. For a week I cried myself to sleep every night, losing weight and becoming more and more withdrawn, my friends worried and my family worried, but how could they ever understand?
The terrible truth became clear two weeks later. As I rolled from the bed, and walked bleary-eyed to the door to pick up the paper, the headlines struck me like an express train...
I'm looking for my lost love, annie. She was beautiful, smooth skin, shaved pubic hair, she did anything I wanted to do to her, never complained if I was drunk, fell asleep on her, smelt of kebabs or beer
Last time I saw her was in my comfy box being sent out to Kosovo in 2003, if anybody finds a comfy box, with a stash of hardcore porn, 3 months supply of tissues and annie my inflateable friend PM please ASAP