The Bitch From Borlänge
By Ellie of Cameron & Smoothy
Where was I? On the sidewalk in Rosengaard with Willie The Rat. We’d just found a copy of Aftonbladet and he read a semi accurate piece about my sardine caper, before eating the rest of the paper.
“I can’t believe you did that,” I hissed. “I wanted to look for something about the kat show. We have no idea where the damn thing is.”
“My bad,” he said. “Swedish papers are some of the best tasting news. Der Spiegel is to die for, but hard to find copies.”
“So what do we do now?”
“We’ll go and ask The Hound,” he said.
“Hound of the Basketballs,” he tells me. “Used to be a player before he got into the beer habit. He knows everything that’s going on in Malmö. I know where he lives.”
* * *
We found him at a cheap saloon, the Dog Tired, on the wrong side of the street. He was hanging out a sidewalk window with what appeared to be a serious hangover.
“Hey basketballs!” I called. That seemed to wake him up.
“Huh? What?” he snuffed.
“We’ve got a couple questions you might know the answer to,” I told him. “Where’s the FIFI cat show held in Malmö, also when does it begin?”
“Questions are free. Answers cost bones.” He was looking straight at me—the deep pocket. Rats don’t carry paper money. Some say they eat coins.
I tossed him a crumbled twenty kroner note.
“Umm. Let me think.” He passed the twenty to a poodle who was tending bar. After a pregnant paws he said, “It’s at the Malmö Konsthall. It starts tomorrow . . . runs all weekend.”
“What’s the address?” Willie asked him.
“It’s on Johannesgatan. Not too far from Pildammsparken. Going to take the rat with you?” He asked. “Good luck with that.” The poodle brought a bowl of beer and he buried his nose in it.
“Catch your act later,” Willie told him as we left.
“We'd better go there now,” I said. “We need to find a good way in—and out.”
“It isn’t far, Smooth—fifteen or twenty minute walk from here.” We could get something to eat on the way. You called him Basketballs? He might have taken that the wrong way.”