Coleman and the Ciaran - Part one - The Room That Hath No Chairs

Anything written after this section is part of the intended humour. Any disclaimers or legal references are neither real or factual. Thank you.

Disclaimer;

The ideas in this story are not based upon any real persons and are intended for the purpose of entertainment only. Any similarities between real people and the characters in this story are coincidental and not intended by the author. Despite appearances and constant use of “he” and “him” the author originally intended the character of Coleman as a female. However, he would like to leave the gender of Coleman and his age up to the reader.

Coleman and the Ciaran:

Part One - The Room That Hath No Chairs

Tom walked into the room and was most displeased with what he saw. Upon the floor were no tables and a distinct lack of chairs. Despite these major setbacks he strived to find pleasure in learning with or without the support of vital furnishings. "My pencil and paper is all I need to create an atmosphere in which I can learn to the maximum capacity required of me in these stressful times". He donned his headphones and set to work, pencil in hand.

Tom spent the next few hours scribbling away until he could think no more; "is this an equation I see before me?" He cried out in despair. It was at this moment that the mysterious and reserved Ciaran entered the room that hath no furniture and declared his undying love; "Coleman, Coleman, where for art thou Coleman. I love thee" to which Coleman replied; "Push off Ciaran I've told you before, my only undying love is for the art that is mathematics." On hearing this Ciaran fell to his knees, his heart stopped and time slowed to a halt “how could this be? My one true love does not love thee in return” Ciaran thought to himself. It was as if a part of him had died and the terrific loss was too much for his small childish mind to take. Tears streaked from his eyes but his face showed no shame, just sorrow and longing, longing for a time when he and Coleman could have been at peace together. It was the realisation that this could no longer be that drove Ciaran slowly to the toxic devil that is; drink.

It was slow at first, no one noticed the great man that was once Ciaran slowly fall into decline, not even the man himself. But as the stench of alcohol slowly became the stench of Ciaran people started to talk; “Alchy” they would sometimes cough in passing, along with the cry of “wine-oh” maybe shouted down the corridor. This served to only push Ciaran into a deeper, darker and increasingly drink dependent depression.

Numerous days, Weeks and issues of Cosmo (all rights reserved) passed until light was eventually glimpsed at the end of a very, very drunk tunnel. This light came in the form of a woman. And she was not any woman, she was a Zoe woman. This mysterious blonde had many features of a normal woman but there was one thing that set her apart from the rest; her liking of tall, mysterious and drunkenly depressed men, (And many other incredibly nice and flattering characteristics, as not to offend her in anyway...she is not real…no…why would you think that?).

At first glimpse of this woman Ciaran turned to his closest imaginary friend and proclaimed; “A light, a most beautiful light, I love thee with much heart and with all my will I must woo she that steps before me” to this his friend thoughtfully replied “Fuck off you drunk”. “Banish thee, ye treacherous imagination for I shall drink no more!” he proudly proclaimed and was surreptitiously impressed by his capability to talk so clearly while being so incredibly inebriated.

From this day forth Ciaran was to never again to touch the drink (that is never in the comparative sense), for he hath sworn not to touch a drop until he hath wooed his beloved ‘Zoe’. Following this was a lot of boring material about how they fell in love and gradually grew closer together. However, this is not where the tale reaches its conclusion. . . . . . .

Read next whenevers issue for another instalment of; Coleman and the Ciaran.