What the fuck are these Dianne – he paused to childishly shove papers into
my face – can ye explain how the fuck mae mobile racked up fifty quid in
the past week? Ah tried the maist I could, lookin all Doris Day-like, from
those old shag comedies, ken? Like everything else, I fail. Success was
never my fortay and Rent Boy, liein on the floor, kent that too well, the
cunt. Are ye goan answer me? –he inquired- or just stand there like a wee
daft bairn?. Aw fuck oaf I told that weasley arse. If I had my oan mobile,
Ah'd use it. But nae, cannae have a burd have a mobile, no with Sicky and
Beggar boy about I retorted. His drug riddled face turned purple from the
disgusting pale it had been prior. Dunnae ever mention them again, Dianne.
He cringed, showing newly polished teeth. Their whiteness was so unnatural
against the Scottish scum they were bound to. Those radge punters will kill
ye in yer sleep if ye keep on talkin. His shaky body moved past the bed
posts and towards the pile of papers at my feet. I stepped oaf, watchin
his body language surrender, and he snatched the crisp papers and shoved
them into a drawer already packed with my previous blunders.
Simon would nae hurt us. I said, hoping to god the silence wouldn't echo the whole night. I mean with Begbie thinkin you tried to make him a buftie, its well kent that he'll have yer baws I chortled. Mark shot me the evilest look you could get from a pished jackass at two in the morn. Ah'm goin to bed he said, slouching out of his junkie trousers and into a mass of pillows in bed. C'moan Dianne, ah've got wurk and I gotta sleep he moaned into the dim flat. I furiously clicked the lamp oaf and rolled onto the padding. Stoap movinnnn. God, how I wish I could backhand him sometimes, but here was already enough smack in his system. Stupid junkie, I muttered. There was stiffness in the air, as if an old mum had coated everything in the flat with starch. I heard rustling beside me and kept as still as possible. Silence followed. Pressure was on my shoulder, gripping painfully as I yelped in fright. Lips brushed my ear.
Excuse me Dianne. I did no catch that last bit. My torso turned and I saw his emaciated silhouette, swaying against the darkness beyond him. Jeezus Mark, ye scared the shit outta me ye wanker! I cursed into the blackness. You called me...a fucking junkie? Ah'm no a fucking junkie. Ah've no had no a fuckin hit in yonks and here ye are, telling me ah'm on the skag. Eywis telling me ah'm a worthless piece uv junkie spunk. And here ye are, in yer posh pajamas, on a nice fuckin bed tellin mae how ah'm no doin a good 'nuff joab. Little Marky looked as if he were about to burst into tears, but I don't think his immune system coulda handled a break down right now, so I trailed off to the sofa in the living room, grabbing his mobile from the expelled jeans. I clicked the yellow thing on, waiting for the pips before I entered in my favorite number. Hallo? A wired voice answered. Dianne, love? Is that ye? God I miss ye. Ah'm so lonely. Wanna run your pretty lil arse over here for the night. That's if Rents won't mind a lil borrowing. Kinda like what the wanker did with my money – there was a long, muffled pause. Fucking cunt, 'sides Nikki's been away – the handsome punter hinted. I giggled and said - Sure Simon, ah have no had a proper shag in ages.
Simon would nae hurt us. I said, hoping to god the silence wouldn't echo the whole night. I mean with Begbie thinkin you tried to make him a buftie, its well kent that he'll have yer baws I chortled. Mark shot me the evilest look you could get from a pished jackass at two in the morn. Ah'm goin to bed he said, slouching out of his junkie trousers and into a mass of pillows in bed. C'moan Dianne, ah've got wurk and I gotta sleep he moaned into the dim flat. I furiously clicked the lamp oaf and rolled onto the padding. Stoap movinnnn. God, how I wish I could backhand him sometimes, but here was already enough smack in his system. Stupid junkie, I muttered. There was stiffness in the air, as if an old mum had coated everything in the flat with starch. I heard rustling beside me and kept as still as possible. Silence followed. Pressure was on my shoulder, gripping painfully as I yelped in fright. Lips brushed my ear.
Excuse me Dianne. I did no catch that last bit. My torso turned and I saw his emaciated silhouette, swaying against the darkness beyond him. Jeezus Mark, ye scared the shit outta me ye wanker! I cursed into the blackness. You called me...a fucking junkie? Ah'm no a fucking junkie. Ah've no had no a fuckin hit in yonks and here ye are, telling me ah'm on the skag. Eywis telling me ah'm a worthless piece uv junkie spunk. And here ye are, in yer posh pajamas, on a nice fuckin bed tellin mae how ah'm no doin a good 'nuff joab. Little Marky looked as if he were about to burst into tears, but I don't think his immune system coulda handled a break down right now, so I trailed off to the sofa in the living room, grabbing his mobile from the expelled jeans. I clicked the yellow thing on, waiting for the pips before I entered in my favorite number. Hallo? A wired voice answered. Dianne, love? Is that ye? God I miss ye. Ah'm so lonely. Wanna run your pretty lil arse over here for the night. That's if Rents won't mind a lil borrowing. Kinda like what the wanker did with my money – there was a long, muffled pause. Fucking cunt, 'sides Nikki's been away – the handsome punter hinted. I giggled and said - Sure Simon, ah have no had a proper shag in ages.