Gah! So sorry, forgot to post this the other day. Here's another chapter written by Jon.
We're now on Day 2.
PART SEVEN
Tuesday 15th May
Craig
I'm dead… I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I've died I'm dead.
Or is that just wishful thinking? Wait, of course it is. I'd never be lucky enough to escape the living hell that is my life that easily. I'm not opening my eyes though, I daren't. My mouth is drier than a nun's tit, my whole body is vibrating in the worst possible way and if none of that bollocks was enough, I can feel a nice vomit breakfast brewing.
Urghh, this is all reminding me of that song. You know, the one about waking up after the night before and not having a clue what happened. Except in the song she wakes up and there's a stranger in her bed, and there's definitely not one in mine. I'm pretty sure she remembers having a threesome as well, and I'm damn sure that never happened to me last night. I'd happily have a twosome though, with Joh… actually, lets not go there yet. It's too early. So in this song, they all go out, get trashed, dance on tables and break the law, then bugger off for a bit of skinny dipping. Nope, none of that happened neither, although I can totally relate to the 'pounding head' part, cos mine is fucking throbbing. Damn you Stella, DAMN YOU!
I let out a solitary groan…
"Urghhhhhh."
…feeling totally sorry for myself. It's not as if it's my fault that I'm in this state anyway, is it? It's John Paul's fault for snogging his stupid fat-headed… no, NO, it's still too bloody early in the morning to think about all that. What time is it anyway? I'm gonna have to open my eyes for this bit, aren't I? Damn it! I move my face to the side so that I'm facing my bedside drawers, keeping my eyes firmly shut for as long as I possibly can as I reach out for my alarm clock and…
"OWW! You fucking absolute twat of a tit! Ouch, arghh!" So I didn't quite reach the alarm clock, I ended up thumping the God damn wall instead. How the hell did the wall swap sides during the night? Did it hop over my bloody bed and plonk it's arse down in front of me?
Oh my god, wait! If the wall is now on that side of my bed, does that mean that I'm now outdoors? Fuck, what if everyone can see my arse? Shit, now I really am gonna have to move, I can't have John Paul coming here and seeing me sleeping on the roof, he'll think I've gone crazy! Right, take it slowly Craig, sit yourself up gently, nice and steady, your not gonna throw up… there we go. Now, swerve your legs around and see if you can get a grip of the slate tiles, you don't wanna slip, do you? That's it, lower your feet, find the tiles and… Christ these tiles have gone soft. How the hell are these frigging things supposed to keep the rain out? I must remember to tell Darren about this when I've climbed down, otherwise he'll have the shock of his life when there's a downpour. They aren't slanted either, since when has the pub had a flat roof? Oh this is just too confusing this is, I mean as stupid as it sounds, it actually feels as though my feet are touching… "Carpet!"
I fling my eyes open, taking a few seconds to adjust to the dull English daylight before realising that I am, in fact, still in my room. Well thank fuck for that! I must have slept back to front on the bed, phew! That could have been embarrassing. I take the opportunity to check the time, 10am, which if I'm honest may as well be middle of the night for me if the last month or three have been anything to go by. I look around the dump that I call my bedroom, random clothes lying about the floor, empty bottles and screwed up notepaper littering my desk, my diary lying open and abandoned, and... oh no, I did it again didn't I?
I stand up cautiously, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I take a moment to get my balance. 'Stig of the Dump' springs to mind as I take in my dishevelled bed hair and rough stubble, my eyes widening as I notice the huge yellow patch that covers the front of my white boxers. No, no I couldn't have, surely not... or have I? Wasting no time at all I quickly shove them down my legs, leaving myself completely naked as I eye the stained underwear. Very slowly I lift them towards my face, giving them the quickest of quick sniffs as relief fills my body... it's beer, thank Christ!
I dump the boxers and fetch the diary, really not wanting to see what I've wrote again but at the same time not being able to stop myself. Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, I start to read, cringing at myself before I've even finished the first line. Why do I always do this to myself? Gah! I don't exactly get very far down the page though before my wonderful stepbrother comes barging in unannounced, panic consuming my body as I hastily shove the diary under my pillow before he sees what it is.
"Do you ever think to bloody knock? This is my room, you can't just waltz in here when you feel like it you know!"
"Well I didn't know you were having Tommy Tank did I? I was only checking to see if you were still alive."
"What! I wasn't having a wank!" What the fuck gave him that idea? I've only just woke up.
"Oh come off it Craig, you've not got a stitch of clothing on mate." FUCK! I forgot about that. I quickly pull my knees up in front of me, suddenly feeling very self conscious as I attempt to cup my dick and balls from his view as best I can. "And I totally just saw you shoving that porno mag under your pillow. Busted mate, well and truly!" He's barking up the wrong tree here big time, but then if I tell him the truth he's going to wanna know what's really under my pillow and to be honest, I'm happy to let him think I was playing with myself rather than have him see my diary. "But hey, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, so I'll leave you to it."
"Err, yeah, yeah your right, that is what I was doing. You got me!" Ok, did that sound convincing enough do you think?
He's still grinning to himself as he turns to leave, but doesn't quite make it through the door before he's facing me again. "Oh yeah, and get your arse out here quick as you can yeah?" He's suddenly turned all serious on me, wonder what that's all about? "I want a word with you about last night." Oh, it's about that. Bugger it.
When I'm finally alone again, I quickly find myself the only clean pair of boxers I've got left and pull them on. Maybe I shouldn't have got up off the bed so fast though, seeing as the sickly feeling I woke up with has now returned with a vengeance - along with the sharp pounding in my head. I wonder if I'll make it to the bathroom this time?
DARREN
I'm breathless and sweating, my knees burn against the carpet as my body rocks back and forth. "Oh fuck!" This is too much, this is too much, I'm gonna explode everywhere in a minute! I keep going though, my thrusts unrelenting as I screw my face up, trying desperately to hold back the inevitable release. "Shit, oh shit!" My pace quickens, thrusting uncontrollably until I can't take it anymore. Then just as I'm on the edge, pushing myself to the point of no return, I quickly jump up and rush to the sink… and proceed to hurl my guts up!
"Fucking hell Craig, you absolute twat!" I say to myself as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Ten frigging minutes I've been scrubbing at that carpet, trying to remove all traces of the sick that he left behind last night. The smell was so strong and I tried to hold back as long as I could, but there's only so much heaving your body can take before you end up with your head stuck in a bowl emptying the contents of your stomach into it. He's a dick, and I still can't find Frankie's frigging Febreeze!
Walking back over to the crime scene, I mop up the last of the foam with a tea towel before chucking it straight in the bin - something tells me we ain't gonna be drying no dishes with that anytime soon. Figuring I've got as much of it up as I can, I head to my room and grab a can of my exquisite Deluxe Leopard deodorant off the side to spray instead, and I literally soak the carpet in the stuff. I've got the place smelling like The Perfume Shop, but it's a damn sight better than the smell I woke up to this morning. Three quid this stuff cost me an'all, and I don't expect I'll get any thanks for it from that fanny in there.
Speaking of which…
"Oh here he is, about time too. Come to mop up your little art exhibition have you, eh?" I raise my voice slightly, knowing full well the havoc it'll be causing his head. I watch him visibly wince in front of me as he practically crawls towards the settee in nowt but his boxers - I'm starting to think he's ran out of clean trousers and can't be arsed to wash them. That'll be something else that I'll end up doing for him no doubt. God I can't wait for Frankie to get back so she can take over again! He slumps himself down and curls up, looking at me pitifully.
"Darren, please will you just keep it down. I'm not well, just… just stop shouting, yeah?"
"Shouting? You think that was shouting? Oh no, that weren't shouting mate… THIS IS BLOODY SHOUTING!" I think I just gave him a mini heart attack judging by the way he's now clinging on to the arm of the chair for dear life, having very nearly fallen off it… again. "What's up Craig? Sore head?"
"Yes, actually!" He sits himself up, glaring at me as he huffs. "Really bloody sore! So quit with the sarcasm already, I'm not in the mood!"
"So you remember whacking your pretty little head off the coffee table then?" Confusion passes across his face as he looks at the offending table, trying to piece together the unmade jigsaw puzzle of last night. "I'll take that as a no then. How about painting the carpet?"
"What?"
"Sick, Craig, all over the fucking floor again!"
"Oh, yeah… err, sorry about that." He leans his head back as his eyes close, trying to put an end to the conversation probably. I don't bloody think so!
"Sorry for what? You're not sorry Craig, cos if you were you wouldn't keep doing it!" The tosser's just ignoring me now. Maybe now would be a good time to bring up our little chat about John Paul last night, but I stop myself before I even start. There's no point going down that route while he's like this, if anything it'll just confuse the hell out of him even more and then where would I be? If I'm gonna find out more about this then I'll have to wait until he's recovered a bit, at least he won't be able to run away from me when he realises he's already said too much… sort of. "Do you even remember anything that happened yesterday?" Again he stays silent, but I do see his eyes open briefly as he swallows hard, looking over at me for a second, contemplating whether or not to say anything, me silently hoping that he does. But of course, he doesn't, he just shakes his head at me, uttering a quick 'no' for good measure.
"Fine, whatever." I give up… for now at least. "I'll leave you to wallow up here for a bit then, shall I? I'd best go and check on Freda anyway, make sure she's not got her grubby hands on my nuts again." I head over to the door, but turn back to him just as I'm about to walk through it. "I want you down there at 12 on the dot Craig, no excuses this time, right?" This silent treatment is becoming so, so boring! "Craig, did you hear me?"
"Yes" he mumbles.
"So I'll see you down there at 12 then? And you'd best grab a shower as well, you smell like one of Freda's farts… no offence."
"Yeah, ok." I don't think he's even listening to a word I'm saying now, I at least expected a 'fuck you' for the fart comment. God help me!
So I leave him to it, opening up the bar and hoping to Christ that the smell of salmon has gone. That's the last thing I need after the morning I've had, and there is no way in hell that I am using up anymore of my Deluxe Leopard. Thankfully it's all clear though, so clear in fact than I can't even see my frigging cleaner that should have been here half hour back. Jesus, do I have to do everything around here? I am SO sacking her fat lardy arse when she decides to turn up next, I can't be doing with her wasting my time and money anymore. Besides, Myra McQueen was in here not last week looking for a cleaning job. 'I'll do anything me, bogs, bins, the lot. I'd want a decent wage though, I'm not getting muck in me nails for naff all!" That's what she'd said to me, hardly the greatest of first impression is it? But anything's gotta be better than what I've got now. Oooh, maybe she'll know something about the on going Craig / John Paul saga! Well that's it then, Freda's definitely a gonner now. I'll call Myra later, tell her she's in.
I spend the next half hour cleaning the bar up, my brief uplift in mood slowly deteriorating with every empty crisp packet and pint glass I pick up. By half eleven I've finally got things ship shape, I can enjoy a nice hot cuppa now before Leo Valentine starts banging me door down. I watch as the kettle boils, taking out a couple of custard creams for a nice bit of dunking before I pull up a stool and breathe a sigh of relief. Oh that's nice, I've not stopped all morning, so this is like heaven. Heaven, that is, until my peace is disturbed just as the cup's rim touches my lips.
"Oh you have got to be kidding me, who the hell is that now?" I shout, fully expecting Leo to start his usual routine of 'open up, I'm gagging out here'. What I don't expect to hear is the Irish lilt of Kris, I thought his shift was tonight? I put my tea back down, hoping to God I can get rid of him before it goes cold. I'm looking forward to them Custard Creams!
"What do you want?" Ok, I know I'm being a bit of a prick, but this morning is fast becoming a great big joke at my expense.
"Well hello to you too gorgeous, get up on the wrong side of your boudoir this morning?" He chuckles as he passes through, standing in front of me as I keep a hold of the door - he's not going to be staying long.
"You're not due in till seven, what you doing here?" And then I see it, the look that passes over his face that tells me I'm not at all going to enjoy hearing what he's here to say. Fuck it!
"Ahh, yeah, about that…"
"Oh no, no you don't. Your not doing this to me, not today of all days. You can sodding sod off!"
"But I've got a hot date!"
"I couldn't give two monkey's shites if you're on a hot date or burying your dead dog! I'm short staffed, I need you here tonight!" He's taking the absolute piss, talk about short notice.
"But he's fit!" As if I care? "And according to Nancy he has got the biggest…"
"STOP! Stop… right there. I don't wanna know."
"So you'll let me have it off then?" Well he can wipe that grin off his face for starters!
"No I said. Look, if you had asked me last week, last night even, then maybe I could have found someone to cover for you."
"Yes I know that, but see the thing is…"
"But coming in here, just hours before your due to start, on possibly the most stressful day of my entire life, is seriously bad timing."
"He's got a REALLY big cock!"
"Oh my God! Images, Kris, images! I've got 'em in my head now… oh God."
"I'm having it off… in more ways than one hopefully, LOL!"
"Did you just say lol?"
"Whatever. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow then, yeah?"
"No you bloody will not!" I jump in front of him as he tries to make his escape. Screw the custard creams, this is more important. "You are not having it off! I'm sorry Kris, but I'm putting my foot down on this one."
And so he proceeds to look down at my feet. "So I see."
"Oh hardy har har." His shoulders have slumped, he's looking defeated, hurrah! Finally, I've got through to him. I always knew I'd make a good manager, never let it be said that Darren Osborne doesn't have great auth… authori… autherm… oh bugger it! "Right, so I'll see you tonight then?"
"No you won't, I'm having it off." WHAT? And the twat's smiling at me as well, cheek!
"NO. YOU. ARE. NOT."
"I am."
"You're not."
"I am."
"You're not!"
"I am!"
"Oh for FUCKS SAKE! Fine! Fucking fuck off then! You may as bloody well, everyone else has today! I've got Craig feeling sorry for himself upstairs… AGAIN. Freda's fucked off to Timbuktu which means I'VE had to do all the cleaning, and as far as I'm concerned she can stay there now an'all. And now I've got you swanning off to go and play with Big-cock Billy…"
"His name is Spaniel, actually."
"Eh?"
"Spaniel… I think it's a nickname, or at least I hope it is. Err…"
"…which means I'm gonna be left sweating my bollocks off behind that bar tonight with absolutely no help whatsoever! So thanks for that Kris, thanks a lot!"
Ok, breathe Darren, breathe… and now he's looking at me like I've grown a third eye, great!
"O-kaayy. Sooo, I'll be seeing you then." He's backing away slowly, holding on to his man purse for dear life. What, does he think I'm gonna shoot him or something? Which actually at this moment in time ain't such a bad idea, right? "Tata then." And with that, he turns away and skips down the road.
I slam the door shut and make my way over to my tea, which by the way is now lukewarm, DAMN YOU KRIS! Nevertheless, I sit back down and tell myself to calm, my soothing inner-voice settling me as I finally, FINALLY take a hold of my delicious custard cream. Man have I been looking forward to this! I'm going to treasure every moment of this, really I am.
I lower the cream to the tea, giving it a good few dunks, just the way I like it. Then I lift it up, my mouth salivating as it awaits it's prize, and then… PLOP. The fucking thing snaps off and nose dive's straight back into me brew.
"AAAARRRRGGGHHHHHHHH!"
Thank you for reading x
