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Drink And The Devil, Richard Clark

The Tuxedo Archives

When he was twenty-eight-year-old the man began to have a recurring nightmare. He was on the London Underground with his wife, a little before Christmas. Lunch at Simpsons on the Strand had been followed by shopping at Harrods and Selfridges. They carried big bags of gifts and tasteless tidbits wrapped in cellophane and colored ribbon. They were happy, not a care in the world. As the train trundled along the tunnel beneath the Thames, the wife said she could hear the sound of rushing water. “Don’t worry,” the man told her, “the train is watertight.” They sat quietly but the …