She shut th' door in me face, after all I done f' 'er! She shut th' fuckin' door! Me Jackie what I carries on me own back in a fuckin' blizzard down th' middle a' I-70 has th' bloody cheek t' shut th' door in Cass's face f' thank yehs!
So there I sits in me motel room all pissed off, curtains closed first thing like always, wi' one paper thin wall between us, me boots soaked, an' me arse half frozen, watchin' fuckin' MTV on teevee while finishin' off last a' th' raw steak I'd stashed in me kit, listenin' to her showerin' next door.
Jaysis! A woman needs her space, but one "Thank you, Cass.", just one wee "Thank you."
...well, she di' say that: "Thanks Cass, but I need to be alone right now. I've just had a very bad day and you're a little too much for me to handle right now." Fuck this shite, not even a 'alf arsed snog f' thank yeh?
What's wrong wi' Cass?
Is it his attitude?
Is it his breath?
Is his highly lovable workin' class charm a wee bit too rough?
Ahhh fuck this shite! Seh what if Cass ain't dainty 'nuff by half, maybe our Jackie be one a them what pines after queers after all!
She don't act like no fag hag.
But she did live w' one...?
So I lights up a butt, takes off me boots an' tries to watch teevee while me feets thaw out an' me toes finish healin' up after Big Mamma what stomps 'em inta jelly. Jaysis but it hurts!
Wonder why Cass's feets take seh long to heal when they's not all that big compared t' rest a' Cass?
Wish I'd saved th' last a' tha' bottle a' vodka an asprin!
Fuckin' MTV - all bolliky reality shows, not all music like it used to be!
Wonder why Cass's feets hurt seh bloody mean healin' up when there's not all that much t' hurt compared t' rest a' Cass?
Ahhhhh, fuck, now MTV's runnin' bollicky game show? Wi' wankers in easy chairs? Fuck! I turns the shite off when I really want's to toss fucker out th' bloody winda! Instead, I punches holes in th' wall by bed wi' me fist; which makes me feel seh much better.
Jackie turned off the water.
I hears her movin' 'round th' place an' me only steady friend in all th' world stands up an' takes notice. "Don't bother mate, frigid bitch ain't interested in the likes a' yeh." I says an' opens me last bottle a' Jack an takes a pull, me feets an' me dick both throbbin bad. Fuck, should never ha' got involved wi' her, 's too much crazy shite f' one lad t' take!
Aw hell, I hear me Jackie climbs into bed an' start cryin' t' herself again, real soft. Which makes Cass feel like a day old bucket o' shite f' sayin' what he just did. Some things yeh just need to do in privatelike, yeh know. Maybe I were a wee bit too hard on wee lass? I mean, yeh lover's yeh lover, even if he's a bit of a prick! Would it make 'er feel better if she knew that bugger be dead now an' runnin down' sewer after good owd Cass's last righteous shite?
Prolly not!
Seh, to give 'er privacylike, I puts me hands over me ears, an' start's singing summat loud to drown 'er out.
But it don't work, seh I says, "Fuck it!" an' takes a shower. A real long shower, which quiets me feet, but not me dick.
When I shuts off the water, I notice that me Jackie's quieted down. Th' snowstorm's still goin' though, blowin' 'gainst the buildin' makin' it shake.
Funny thing is, when I steps out inna room, dryin' mesel' off, th' door what connected our two rooms were open.
Not much, just a little bit, mind yeh.
Ahhh, Cass, I says to meself, is this wha' yeh've been waitin' for? Or is it just the storm knockin' th' door loose a wee bit?
I stands there, dryin' mesel' off, wonderin' wha' open door meant.
I could hear her breathin' regularlike.
I don't know if she opened it f' me, or if I'm just askin' f' a thump onna head.
I catches sight ah mesel' in th' mirror by the dresser and says, "Take a chance Mr. Cassidy, yeh've been wantin' this f' a while."
And I replies, "Well Doctor Cassidy, yeh spot on as always. What does yeh recomend?"
"Don't be a wanker an' ruin it like yeh usually does, is all!" Doctor Cassidy replies, "An' by the way me old son, has yeh taken a right honest look at yehself in mirror lately?"
I takes a real good look in th' fuckin' mirror again. Aye, all th' legends are pure shite about that bit, also about garlic an' crosses —and replies, "Cass, lad, yeh's dead sexy as always, but maybe yeh's a wee bit scruffy about the edges. When's th' last time yeh even bothered t' shave?"
"Last week maybe?" I digs around in me carry-all and finds razor case wi' strop wrapped 'round it. Bruises what Big Mamma gave me on me manly jaw were gone anyway; no use hidin' what ain't there. "Doctor Cassidy, yehs dead on like always! How much do I owe yehs for this consultation?"
"I'll put it on yeh tab, boyo, I'll put it on yeh tab."
Surprised I know how to use one a' them these days when everybody uses electric or safety? Fuck, it's not hard! 'S what me dad an' me big brother Billy taught me t' shave wi' - I still uses straight razor what I got in pawn shop back in '17 after some bastard stole me belongin's th' first night I was in America - never did get hang a' them so-called safety razors. Sliced mesel' up s' bad I passed out first time I used one —never mind I woke up an hour later on boarding house washroom floor stuck fast in a patch a' me own dried blood with nary a scar to show for it with th' landlady screamin her fuckin' head off because she thought I did meself in! "Aye Cass, that's the way." I finishes and then I says to mesel', "Why stop halfway?" an' trims me sideburns an back a' me neck f' first time in weeks.
Dead sexy! Seh I uses whiskey on me face cause I never did like th' stinkwater yeh s'posed to use. Who do yeh think I am, fuckin' Paolo? I take that back, aftershave does well enough when yeh's run outta good shite an' the fuckin' D.T.s is crampin' yeh guts - doesn't burn like Lyesol goin' down neither.
Then I goes an digs roun' me kit an finds me good trowse what I been savin' f' special occasion. Yeh know, th' grey ones wi' black specks what I usually wraps 'round bottles to keep 'em from smashin'!
An' me braces, suspenders to yeh Yanks.
Always did like braces bettern' belt, even though me dad used to take his regular-like to me an' Billy's backs when we was wee lads f' stealin' shite on Market Day an' shamin' our ma. Braces lend a man a bit a' class, nothin' like a belt do, shame only Amish wankers an' owd geezers wear 'em nowadays.
I got these back in '42 I did, an I take right good care 'f 'em, real leather an' brass! I rubs 'em wi' neatsfoot whenever I remembers to, though I rarely wears 'em now.
Maybe today were the time to wear 'em. I mean me Jackie's a class bit o' fanny and maybe Cass ain't been class enough f' e'r to take Cass an' 'is wooin' seriously.
So, I digs around a wee bit more in me kit and finds me good turtleneck, the one wi'out too many fag burns in it.
I shakes it out an dusts off th' lint, lint shows somethin' fierce onna black turtleneck.
Then I finds an e'spensive hand knit Irish sweater on the very, very bottom and I says, "Cass, the yuppie wanker what yeh pinched this off'a won't mind if yeh uses it f' a wee bit a class wooin' in his garment. Never mind th' fucker were passed out face down inna gutter outside Clooney's Pub when yeh borrowed it from him last St. Pat's!"
Door still be open, a good sign, aye?
I looks me'sel' over one more time, "Killer, real killer!" an' then runs back an' brushes me teeth again wi' whiskey.
Now Cass is ready. Will it be "Bless ye Cass, I've been wantin' yehs since I first laid eyes on yeh?", or will it be "Get the fuck out or I'll scream!" while she caresses me tenderly over th' head w' chair?
