Regular readers may have noticed that I’ve been gone fer awhile. Well, see there’s a funny story behind that. I’ve been gettin’ a lot a emails from fans askin’ me ta explain what’s happened ta me – okay, I got one email, but still I figger I owe ya. Okay, the last time I wrote I told ya ‘bout the big karaokee night we had at my favourite pub, The Silver Fish, an’ I guess that’s probably where this story begins.
The karaoke night was a bust. In fact it was a disaster. Ernie, the landlord, was barely able to stay afloat as it was; and after the karaoke night, well, he just lost too much money what with paying for the clean up after the riots an’ everybody suing him an’ all that. So Ernie ended up having to sell the joint. The thing was he didn’t tell nobody what he was doing. Him an’ his wife just up an’ split. So imagine my surprise when I go over there one evening an’ the place is all boarded up!
There’s these big, plywood boards across where the plate glass window normally is, an’ I thinkin’, well, maybe they were still cleaning up form the riot. But then I noticed chains an’ a big padlock on the door. I tried to open the door but it wuz locked. That’s when Tam Stewart, one a the old geezers from the bar comes up to me an fills me in…
“So the Silver Fish is closed fer good?”
“Aye, mate,” Tam says. “He sold it tae some Greek chap. Gonnae turn it intae a tannin’ salon or some sort.”
“Wow, no shit? So where’s Ernie?”
Tam shrugs his shoulders. “Nae idea, him an’ the missus just took off. Ah when tae his flat tae get him, ‘cos ah thought maybe he just forgot tae open tha pub; an’ after the fifth or sixth knock, ah looked through his window an’ his flat was completely cleared out, like nae furniture or anything; ken?”
“Really, no kiddin’? Ah, fuck! Where am I gonna go now?”
This really sucks. I mean, The Silver Fish is my hangout, my sanctuary, my home away from home. Whenever I ‘m havin’ problems at home, like whenever Joe or my sister threaten ta kick me out - like that time when I accidently dropped Joe’s camcorder inta the toilet right as I wuz flushin’ it an’ ended up floodin’ the basement, an’ I didn’t have anyplace ta sleep; or even just on days when I’m bored an’ don’t have nuthin’ else ta do, I could always go ta The Silver Fish. Now I had nowhere.
Well, the Silver Fish may be gone, but I figured there’s gotta be other pubs that are just as good, right? Problem was that I’d been banned for life from at least half the pubs in Glasgow - the Rhoderick Dhu even went so far as to ban any of my future children and grand children – so’s I wuz a bit limited inta where I could go.
I tell Tam that I wuz gonna take off an’ go hang out somewhere else. I ask him if he wants ta tag along but he says no, he’s just gonna stay here an’ cry. Oh well, his loss. So I wander around for a bit, then it hits me. My stomach starts growlin’ an’ it dawns on me that I ain’t eaten anything since I had that toast and bean ( yeah, bean - I spilt the pot a baked beans on the floor, an’ only managed to rescue one bean) fer breakfast this morning. Goddamn, I’m hungry. I sees a Indian takeaway across the street. It’s a bit dodgy lookin’, but I don’t care. I gotta eat something. So’s I go in an’ order two donner kebabs, chips with curry sauce an’ gravy, onion flavoured nan, an’ a Fanta. While I’m waiting on my order, I see the two guys that run the shop standin’ by the deep fryer an whisperin’ to each other. One of them points at me an’ they both start laughing. I’m startin’ ta freak out a bit ‘cos with these people, ya never know. They could be terrorists an’ at this very moment they could be planning ta kidnap me an’ cut my head off if the government doesn’t give inta their demands. Oh fuck, I gotta get outta here….as soon as they bring my food.
Anyway, one a them guys finally brings my order to the counter. I take my food, throw my money on the counter and get out of there as fast as I can. A couple a blocks further I find a bench ta sit on an’ scarf down my takeaway. Damn, them terrorists sure can cook. This is fuckin’ delicious. When I finish my supper I sit on the bench for a couple a minutes ta let the food settle then I get movin’ again, ta continue my quest ta find a new pub ta hang out in. There ain’t much here in this part a town. It’s mostly office buildings. I don’t even know where the hell I am at this point. Nothing looks familiar ta me. And everything over here is closed at this hour anyway. So I start walking an’ hoping that I’ll see somethin’ I recognize.
I’m walkin’ for a good 20 minutes, an’ my feet are killin’ me. Ta make matters worse, my stomach is startin’ ta feel a bit funny after that takeaway. I burp an’ taste a bit of that curry spice. Then, just as a couple a hot-looking chicks are walking by, I cut one. A loud one, too; the kinda fart that makes your ass cheeks sting.
“Oh my GAWD!” screams one a the chicks. “what’s that SMELL?!? It’s like someone set fire to a bag of dead kittens an’ then tried to put the fire oot by pukin’ on it.”
“Ewww, aye, it smells terrible,” says her friend.
“Laura, I think it’s coming fae that ugly, fat bastard over there,” says a third chick. “Let’s go.”
With that, the girls take off…fast. I didn’t even know anyone could run that fast in high heels.
My stomach’s really starting get queasy by now. I burp again an’ taste more kebab an’ a bit of Fanta. I’m wonderin’ what the hell I ate that’s making me sick. Maybe those terrorists guys at the takeaway poisoned my food. Or it could be the gravy and curry sauce. Fuck, I’m really startin’ ta feel ill. I’m prayin’ that I can find someplace that’s open so’s I can use their toilet.
Finally I see a joint down at the end of the block – an’ it looks like a pub, too, so maybe I’ll be able to find a new hangout tonight after all. I run as fast as I can. I go through the doors and fart again – this one louder and wetter than the last one. This chick points me in the direction of the toilets and I race back there, barely making it to the stall in time.
Ahhh….there’s nothin’ like a good dump. Just the relief ya feel when ya hear that splash a the water in the toilet below ya. Yer body just instantly starts ta relax, know what I mean? Yep, there ain’t nothin’ in the world that can beat a good shit. Unfortunately this ain’t a good shit. Seriously, I musta been in the stall a good forty minutes. My stomach’s rumblin’ like crazy. An’ the smell’s is enough ta embarrass even me. All the time I’m in there, I’m hearing people walkin’ inta the john, then immediately turnin’ round and walkin’ out. I even hear one person scream. Thank Christ, nobody can see me in here.
Eventually my stomach starts ta calm down, which is good ‘cos my ass was startin’ ta really feel numb sittin’ on that fuckin’ toilet seat. I go through nearly an entire roll of toilet paper tryin’ ta wipe myself. Then I walk outta the bathroom.
I start headin’ to the bar, thinkin’ I might get a pint a Carling instead of my usual Stella, but then I notice all these chicks are starin’ at me….an’ not in a good way either. They’re lookin’ at me like I just ran over a box a puppies.
“What?” I ask ta the crowd. “Is it the toilet? Sorry ‘bout that. I ate some really bad curry, so it wuz kinda a emergency? Know what I mean?”
The crowd just stands there starin’ at me; no glarin’ at me, like they wanna kill me wit’ their bare hands. An’ lookin’ at the size of some a these babes, they could easily do it, too. I ain’t got no idea why these chicks are so mad at me. I’m waitin’ fer one a them chick’s boyfriends ta step up an’ take a swing at me. But then I notice there are no boyfriends. In fact there ain’t no other guys here period. I’m the only dude here.
What the fuck? Where am I, I’m thinkin’. Then this one chick, the biggest, meanest one in the joint pushes her way to the front a the crowd.
“Brad, ya arsehole, what the fuck do you think yer doin’ here?!” she bellows.
She’s got a shaved head, a tattoo on the side a her neck, an she’s got this huuuge hooters. She looks familiar but I can’t quite place her. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a drinks menu sittin’ on the bar an on it the bar’s name –‘The Lumberjack.’ Oh fuck, I nearly got killed the last time I wuz here. I look back at those massive boobies again and then it dawns on me who this chick is.
Oh fuck, fuck, FUCK, I’m thinking.’ it’s Sharon, my ex-wife’s girlfriend. Then this other chick walks up to her – it’s my ex-wife, Brenda. Sharon grabs her by the waist an’ pulls her towards her. They start kissin’. Sharon rams her tongue down my ex-wife’s mouth. Then they stop an’ look at me. I’m feelin’ horny, jealous and repulsed all at the same time.
“Brad, just leave us alone,” Brenda says. “You’re not allowed ta come within’ 200 yards of me, remember what the judge said.”
“Yeah,” Sharon says. “I outta kick yer arse.”
“Look, erm, this ain’t what ya think it is,” I try ta explain. But then that Sharon butts in.
“Why can’t ya just accept that it’s over. Brenda’s with me now?”
“Seriously,” I says. “This ain’t what it looks like. I just came in here ta use the crapper. I didn’t even…”
“Hey, ya tosser,” Sharon interrupts. “Stay away from my Brenda, ya hear? If ya even go near her, I’ll kick the shite outta ya.”
Sharon moves towards me, an’ backs me up against the bar. I start tryin’ ta explain ta her again about the curry, but I can’t get the words out. My stomach starts actin’ up again. I quietly burp an’ taste gravy, curry sauce and a cheese omelette I ate two days ago.
“Seriously, don’t you dare go near her, ever again,” Sharon says. . Sharon’s got her finger an’ jabbin’ it inta my chest. Her finger is the size of a Gregg’s sausage roll.
My stomach is really hurtin’ now. I fart an’ seriously think I shit my pants; but no one else seems ta notice. But what’s worse is that I keep feelin’ like I need to burp an’ there’s this awful fuckin’ taste in my mouth. I gotta get outta here. I open my mouth ta say somethin’ ta Sharon an’ that’s when it really gets bad.
The next thing I know, the front of Sharon’s denim work shirt is covered in puke. My puke. This orangey –brown stuff drips down her boobs an’ onto the floor. I can see bits of meat an tomato in it. She doesn’t say anything at first; none a them do. They’re all too shocked at what just happened, Sharon most of all. Then Brenda brakes the silence.
“Oh, my Sharebear – baby, are you alright?” she shrieks.
Then Sharon looks up from the mess on her shirt an’ her face just starts gettin’ reder and more reder.
“Ohhhh, ya bastard, I’m sooo gonna make ya pay,” she hisses.
She leaps towards me and I run out the door as fast as I can. I think I may have even knocked over a couple a them chicks on the way out. Behind me I can hear the entire joint spillin’ out onta the street in one massive wave, ready ta chase me. I run a couple a blocks, hopin’ ta lose them, but it ain’t any use. I can hear Sharon right behind me, yellin’ and swearin’ at me. Oh fuck, I’m gonna die!
Then I hear this dude shoutin’ at me, “Hey you…hey buddy, c’mere.”
Outta the corner of my eye I see this guy standin’ next to this big black limo. He’s got the passenger door open an’ motioning for me to come over. It’s a bit weird ‘cos I don’t even know this guy. But seein’ as how I’m ‘bout ta get beaten ta death by 200 very angry lesbians, I take my chances.
Inside the car, it’s real fancy. It’s got real pleather seats, an’ everything. It’s even got those snazzy locks an’ windows – the ones that have those switches to open an’ close the windows and lock the doors. This guy was one lucky son of a bitch, he didn’t have to roll his windows up and down like the rest of us poor fuckers. Nope, if he wants some fresh air, all he’s gotta do is push a switch.
The guy jumps onto the seat across from me and taps on a glass window behind him, tellin’ the driver to go. He’s wearin’ a dark green suit with a orange shirt an’ a bolo tie an’ a large pair of sunglasses, even though it’s night time. He pours himself a can of Pepsi into a plastic cup an’ offers me one. I take it even though I don’t really like Pepsi all that much.
“This is a swell car ya got,” I tell him.
“Thanks, but it’s not mine,” he says. “It belongs to my boss.”
“Really, who’s yer boss?”
The guy sips his Pepsi. Then he pulls out one of those flask things from his pocket, uncaps it an’ pours the contents inta his Pepsi. Then he takes another sip. Satisfied, he puts the cap back on the flask and returns it to his pocket.
“Listen, buddy, before I get into that, let me ask you something?” he says. “How’d you like a job travelling around the world?”
“Doin’ what?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he says. Very casually, he starts pickin’ his nose. He rubs the booger into a little ball using his thumb and forefinger, then cracks the window down a bit and flicks the booger out of the window. “Let’s just say that my boss is very interested in acquiring your services.”
I’m startin’ to regret gettin’ in this car now. This guy’s really makin’ me nervous. What if he’s a fag or something? I’m thinkin’ that I’d almost rather be mauled ta death by a herd a dykes than take part in whatever weird shit this weirdo has in mind. Sorry, but I ain’t no homo. The Brocker is strictly fer the ladies.
Very politely, I tells him no. He just smiles an’ shakes his head.
“I don’t think you understand,” he says. “I said my employers are veeerry interested in hiring you. And they won’t take no for an answer.”
The guy cracks open another can of Pepsi, pours it into a plastic cup and offers it to me, though I’m not sure why because he just gave me a drink five minutes ago.
“Here drink this one instead,” he says. “It’s fresher.”
“Nah, I’ll stick with the one I’ve got.”
“No really, I insist.”
“I’m okay, really.”
“Seriously, drink this one instead,” he says, pushing the cup into my hands. “ It’s been in the in the fridge longer. It’s much cooler, much more refreshing.”
“I’m okay with this one,” I said. “I like warm Pepsi.”
The guy’s startin’ ta pissed now, I can tell. He rolls his eyes and sighs.
“Ahh, fuck it,” he mutters. Then he pulls this syringe out of his coat pocket and jabs it inta my neck.
“Hey, man! What the hell? I…outta…b.b.b.ea…., “ I don’t get a chance ta finish the sentence because I start feelin’ all funny an’ shit. An’ the guy, his face starts gettin’ blurry. I go ta take a swing at him, but suddenly my body feels all rubbery. Also, I’m real tired. I can barely keep ma eyes open. I blink an’ look at the guy again. Not only is he blurry, it also looks like his face is startin’ ta melt. One a his eyes suddenly swells up ta the size of a toilet seat, an’ his nose slides down the side a his face. He says somethin’ ta me, but I don’t really catch it. Next thing I know, everything goes black.
To Be Continued.
Munzly
Oh boy, it's a long time since I had a day like that.....
Welcome back!