1. sAtUrDaY eVeNiNg
It was ma mam who put me ontae him initially.
He came endorsement-adorned via a couple ay contacts mam had made by way of sweeping the grime off ay rich cunts' Persian rugs and the suchlike and he turned out to be the genuine article. A real-life knab of the highest order.
If anything, the plaudits didn'ae quite do the chappie justice. There's nae airs or graces or any of that gash with him. He somehow casually contradicts expectations ay folks of his calibre or affluence with a clumsy and charming demeanour. He's eloquent, polite, as natural as snowflakes and sports wealth that's overtly obscene. The only (seemingly) self-conscious, awkwardness he ever displays is the occasional facial flush if he's forced to relay bullshit of an administrative disposition your way.
There's a real altruistic compassion tae this Sassenach. If possible, he'll utilize the less-privileged characters amongst you that may happen tae stumble into his opulent sphere. He'll undoubtedly give ye a leg-up - well, a hooning great hoist if the truth be known.
By a strange twist ay fortune, he happened to give a ne'er-do-well such as myself the opportunity to take some steps forward. So, with bitter determination and enterprising nous, ah smashed every challenge he thrust my way and before too long, ah wis striding towards being indispensable tae him, ken?
Very quickly, ma new residence unexpectedly became this colossal Georgian Manor House atop a provocatively homesick braeheid that rose quintessentially from deep within the Hertfordshire countryside. It was far flung from the reeking tenements that ah'd been accustomed tae north of the border and ah couldn't have possibly, in ma wildest dreams, envisaged inhabiting such a dwelling, let alone feeling like ah actually belonged there.
The mansion was situated remotely, somewhere way out beyond the sticks, encircled by sprawling broadleaf woodland that leant pryingly inwards towards our nucleus of activity from every direction. It felt a trillion miles away from ma birthplace and aw the better for it.
The mansion was situated remotely, somewhere way out beyond the sticks, encircled by sprawling broadleaf woodland that leant pryingly inwards towards our nucleus of activity from every direction. It felt a trillion miles away from ma birthplace and aw the better for it.
The proprietor rapidly became a firm friend of mine and he goes by the name ay Douglas Tempest-Sixsmith ay aw ridiculously-grandiose handles. Tempest-fuckin'-Sixsmith!
He's deep doon a family blood-line that've bequeathed their prosperity from generation tae generation before their story landed on his shooders fae further script-development. An' ah says good luck tae him. He's nothing like ah imagined this type of radge to be, despite a backgroond that dripped with wedge.
Tell ye the truth, there isn'ae a great fuckin' deal that ah widn'ae do for the man.
Tempest-Sixsmith's seen me safe, right from day uno - be it letting me claim hoosin' benayfit from his employees' digs when ah first began working on the estate (an' poortith was still ma main foe) to promoting me tae Head Valet or whatever-tha-fuck ma title currently is.
This was aw within six months ay conscientious, yet perfectly reasonable toil.
An' ye ken what?
There hasn'ae been too many people ay his calibre in ma life thus far. The kind ay upbringing that ah've always been accustomed tae has been largely contaminated by bad eegs caught in the loop ay thievin', tae skag, tae jail, tae brutality, tae a lick ah the rock; from hoose-breakin', tae savagery, tae bullpen, tae settling finally for extinction. Ye get the picture. It goes oan and oan as ye well know.
But that was never for me.
Tee-Ess, or Dougie as he prefers tae be called, is more than just a boss okay, he's a brethren. A cohort and a confident. He could so easily've told me tae sling ma fuckin' hook on countless an eve over the past months and ah widn'ae have questioned it but he never did.
He never would. Right from the off. Ah've always loved tae blether with him, a brandy or two to the good. Invariably, he's urged me tae digress aboot the sort ay exploits that've occurred in ma life up til now, before our paths crossed.
And cross they have and I suppose our hand was dealt long ago.
Jesus, ye know ah prayed ye wasn'ae real loads of times over the last decade-and-a-half. In protest mostly, admittedly. Now ah'm not so sure. But if you aren'ae the saviour we were promised, then undoubtedly we're fucked.
Beyond belief.
Shite began fuckin' up royally first thing this morning. Dougie had been planning and preparing tae host toneet's dinner party fae months now - it was always destined to be a significant one. We had an elite selection ay guests due to turn up fae some scran and let's just say, some ay them are more important than others, ken?
There's this lovely wee missy called Geraldine on the guesty and the boss man's had his eye oan her fae as long as ah can remember. She's a pretty, petite sort and from an aristocratic lineage which suites Dougie's clan right doon tae the shiny marble flooring. But it isn'ae just about that fae him - he truly loves this lassie. And ah'm pretty sure it's reciprocated. Ah've seen the way she looks at him, aw sparkly-eyed and star-crossed. Or aw cross-eyed and stark - it's one ay the pair, anyhow.
Preparations began with the meat, neeps and tatties searing and steaming life into the kitchen. There was maself, head chef Stewie and a couple ay the cooks who've been workin' fae the boss frae time-immemorial manning the stations. Now, due tae the relaxed business practices around here, unsurprisingly, the veggies hadn'ae been stocked up sufficiently to cater fae all attendees, so ah scanned about fae the big man tae rectify the situation.
He was on the front lawn spraffing away to Jay, the lazy-arsed garden-slouchin' motherfucker as usual, so ah opened a window, menu in hand, and interrupted them:
'Someone needs tae scoot down to the market fae, er fennel, Jerusalem artichokey-type things, um, Kohlrabi (or whatever) and the suchlike..'
Dougie raises a hand and says nae bother, he'll shoot down there himself.
Before long, a V8 Vantage roar followed by a clood ay gravel announced his departure as Douglas Tempest-Sixsmith span doon the driveway towards Bovingdon Open Air Market and into a tornado of trouble.
So we're dancin' aroond the kitchen tae Katy Perry's Teenage Dream, an aam singin' obstreperously intae Heed Chef (and lifelong Reds fan) Stewie's simpering an' ruddily-peeved coupon. Aam changing the lyrics freestyle-like, tae aspertions about Liverpool Fitba Club as they've been laughably troonced by the fuckin' Cobblers frae Nurthampton Toon in the week. Oblivious tae this pish, the houghs ay lamb are roasting away happily in the ovens.
'Useless bastards,' I willnae let up, aw sing-song like as Dougie comes unexpectedly crashing through the double doors and slumps ontae one of the chopping surfaces lookin' nae too braw and greener than the mortared mint leaves.
He isn'ae fuckin' aboot.
'What the fuck?' yawps Stewie, dropping his tongs as he scampers over tae the main man. 'You okay boss? What's happened?'
Douglas disn'ae answer. He just stares beyond the kitchen walls, his eyes nae blinking and his hands shaking violently.
'Dougie, chap. Dougie, what the fuck's gone oan laddie?' ah plead. For some reason a sinking feeling starts tae consume me. It's that thoosain-yard stare plastered across his face, coupled with the unholy colour ay his cheeks that are starting tae unsettle me. He's in a bad way and I get the feeling it could mean trouble for us all.
'Dougie, it's me Leighton. Yer auld mucker. What the fuck chap? You're okay now... You're okay now.' I try tae sound assured, rubbing his back and shooders but I've never seen a bodie look this scared or defeated. Never once.
Eventually, away from the others, Douglas breaks his silence and confides in me the events that occurred while he was busy procuring brussel sproots:
'Leighton, I'm in big trouble.'
We're sat consuming an exquisite (and much needed) Cognac in the enduringly-dusty, antiquated study. He's pleading:
'You have to listen to me very carefully and I swear that every single word I relay is the gospel truth. Please believe me.'
'Of course ah fuckin' will Doug, Jesus. You've been ay the bunemaist order tae me since I've known ye. Like a brair ma friend and ah'd never doubt yer word oan anything. What's occurred laddie? Aam behauden to ye - you know that. Aam always here for ye, ken?'
Douglas closes his eyes for a juncture that goes oan fae far too long and then he starts talking:
'When I arrived at the market everything seemed as charmingly agreeable as usual. I strolled past the jewellery rotunda and exchanged the obligatory jolly prattle with Derrick - is it Derrick? Oh you know the chap I mean? Portly fellow who runs the Frogmore Farm Shop stall - him with the auburn sideburns and that radio-mic thingy?'
'Ah, ye mean Barry,' ah laugh. Huge ginger chops oan the side ay his heed!'
'Yes indeed, that's the chap. A good fellow - supplies us with prime cuts of venison when the occasion demands. Well anyway, we exchanged a few pleasantries and he teased me a little about this evening's events and whether Geraldine was attending and then on I pottered to the fruit and vegetable stall.
And that's when things took, well, something of a turn.'
'A turn?' ah offer, puzzled.
Then he drops this oan me:
'As I turned the corner, between the mobile phone stall and that curious New Age trinket stand, a tall shadowy figure of a man clattered straight into me with the most forceful of intent. I almost crumpled to the cobblestones. I promise you, it was nothing like an accident. This peculiar individual unsettled me of the like I've never experienced before. There was just something wrong about him, very wrong. I couldn't really discern the features as his face was obscured, cloaked beneath this long inky-black capuche. A vague rasping sound oozed from his mouth in my direction and my eyes were momentarily dazzled by the glint of what I was certain was some kind of blade he was carrying that glistened in the sunlight. I was overcome with nausea and momentarily, I found my breathing had ceased. I was in shock Leighton. My whole field of vision became a swimming blur of colours. I guessed that he must be one of these 'hoodies' that one's been reading about, hell-bent on perpetrating their knife-crime, with no intent but to ruin.'
Ah interject, 'Look Dougie, this isn'ae a reason tae freak out. Chap, yee've been workin' far too har-'
'LISTEN TO ME LEIGHTON!' He's bellowing, shocking me intae silence fae the rest of his twisted tale:
'Listen to me carefully, please. You must take heed of what I tell you. I'm begging you.'
Ah just nod.
'Immediately I scurried away, veering and skewing before taking a couple of disconcerted wrong turns in an attempt to regain some vague level of composure before hurtling towards where the greens stall stood.
And there he was again.
This sinister, downright fucking malevolent looking hoodie was a mere foot away from where I'd stumbled to a halt. He was facing slightly away from me, in profile against the waxy moon. His stature was incredibly intimidating as he towered above the red and white striped canopy.
Then, very slowly, he rolled back the long hood from the concealed face and finally revealed his identity.
It was Death.
Death himself,' Dougie avows. 'As in the personification of death. It was the Grim Reaper, Leighton.'
Ma eyes widen. Has this cunt actually lost his fuckin' mind? Aul' Grim Reaps? I dinn'ae say shite though 'cos tears are rolling doon his cheeks and he's traversing precariously close tae the threshold of hyperventilation. This gadge clearly believes what he's saying:
'I stopped stone-cold in my tracks. I just couldn't move. Death was over seven feet tall and shrouded in a hooded cloak, scythe leaning against his shoulder, betwixt his upper left arm and ribcage. He was rummaging through a tray of what looked like spoiled peaches with his spindly skeletal fingers.
And then slowly, spine-freezingly, he turned towards me.'
Dougie pauses briefly and fixes his eyes directly intae mine. Then he leans in at such close proximity that ah can blurrily smell the fear emanating from his very being:
'Death bestowed upon me the most threatening and peril-filled glare that I've ever been met with. I have no doubt that this icy stare will be the most poignant vision I'll ever have on this beautiful spinning sphere. And very very soon Leighton, and I'm certain of this, the last. This is the end. This is my demise and it's so terrifying. Oh God, that look was so devoid of mercy.
So grave. So full of menace.'
With this, ma dear friend begins tae weep ay the like that I've never heard from anyone before, be they man, woman or snared animal.
After a time, he coughs, then sobs:
'I ran and ran and ran. I didn't think I was going to make it to the car...'
Finally, almost inaudibly, he croaks:
'Please tell Geraldine that I love her. I always have. I don't think I'm going to be afforded the opportunity.'
Ah have tae concoct a plan. We cannae accept this kind ay fuckin' shite. Oaf ay any cunt. Jesus Fuckin' Chri -
And immediately a scheme is devising itself in ma heed.
Ah try tae shake Douglas intae some sort ay sense that all is far from lost:
'Now, listen tae me,' ah implore to him. 'Ye take ma Corsa and ye drive tae ma mam's hoose up in Edinburgh. An' ye fuckin' joyride it swift-style ye hear, like a methed-up ram raider. Ah ken it isn'ae an Aston Martin but it will fuckin' shift if ye hammer yer foot tae the floor. Ye wear ma clothes, ye drive ma car and ye get as far away from this latent ambush conspiracy as is humanly possible, okay? Ah'll call ahead and forewarn the aul' dear that you're on yer way and tae ready the spare room. Just get oot ay Hertfordshire, get oot ay England and get oot ay this fuckin' grisly, culling Mictlantecuhti anathema's path. If he's still doon at Bovingdon now, ah'll stall the cunt for as long as possible so's ye can skedaddle -
QUICK TIME. MOVE YE DAFT CUNT!'
Following a brief embrace, the plan is in action.
Now it was just doon tae me to try and stonewall this hoodied Spectre ay Deeth type from sculling his way ower tae the fuckin' sticks oot here. And if possible, avoid getting intae a swedge wi' the bastard.
As ah turn the key in the ignition of the V8, ah must admit, despite the bleakness ay the situation, ah have a wee moment of satisfaction at its moody purr before barrelling it doon the driveway and towards this bony atrophied Angel ay Abolishment amid the aubergines, asparagus and annihilation.
On arrival at the market, ah hotfoot it past Barry's amplified jocular abuse emanating from the butcher's stall with a holler ay 'Ginger cunt!' Then ah skid roond the New Age bullshite stand, tearin' dreamcatchers an' medicine wheels with me in ma wake as ah belt towards the fruit and ve-
CRUNCH!
He wasn'ae sifting through the onions any more. Or the okra.
Ah smashed reet intae the Demon ay Doom's emaciated frame in front ay the mobile phone stall. In a bedeviled effort, he'd been prodding his oversized distal phalanges unavailingly at the unforgiving keypad of the latest BlackBerry before ah almost upended the bastard.
Beneath an ominously purple crepuscular sky, Deeth glowered at me, rouge-drenched and rusty scythe raised high above his cowled cranium. He hissed:
'Just what in the Hell happens to be your boggle little man?'
Suddenly ah got brave:
'Now you listen tae me Mr Reaper 'cos aam not gonnae take shite oaf ay any cunt, ye got that? And especially not oaf ay gadges that fuck with ma friends, be they human or sentient entities. The perpetrators ah mean, not ma mates, obviously.'
This wicked and Godless Santa Muerte hunched doon towards me, belched a blasé yawn intae ma face an' sneered:
'I'm afraid I don't really follow, Leighton. And frankly, as uninterested as I already am, I happen to be doing my shopping and would prefer not to be disturbed, so if you would just kindly shuffle off this er...'
Danse Macabre's choreographer didn't bother to finish the sentence as he gestured vaguely towards the direction from which ah'd arrived. He surreptitiously slipped the phone he'd been casting an empty eye socket over into his Sainsbury's Bag for Life before beginning tae glide away.
'FUCK YER SHOPPING!' ah roared belligerently. Ma voice was splinterin'. 'Ma best friend was doon at this here market this afternoon daein' HIS shoppin' and ye took it upon yourself tae ruin his fuckin' life, what with shooting ill-boding and fuckin' menace-filled glares at him. He's terror-stricken now - convinced that his existence must be over.'
A look ay confusion briefly blackened Deeth's barren grimace and then he raised his left supraorbital foramen, stuttered and then scorned:
'Meh..? Menacing..?' He slowly shook his bony dome. 'Cretins. That was nothing like a menacing stare you pair of simple fleshwastes.
What that was, was simply an expression of surprise.'
'Surprise?' Ah shuddered.
'Yes - shock, amazement, etc. Surprise,' he hollowly breathed back.
Ah was confused:
'But..? Why..? Why were ye, surprised? I don't get it.' It was about aw ah had left.
Then the revelation:
'I was surprised Master Leighton, because the very last person I was expecting to stumble into whilst shopping in a Hertfordshire marketplace this afternoon was your snivelling friend Mr Tempest-Sixsmith as I have an imperative appointment booked with him for later tonight...
Three hundred miles away in an Edinburgh tenement.'
And with that he was gone.
He's deep doon a family blood-line that've bequeathed their prosperity from generation tae generation before their story landed on his shooders fae further script-development. An' ah says good luck tae him. He's nothing like ah imagined this type of radge to be, despite a backgroond that dripped with wedge.
Tell ye the truth, there isn'ae a great fuckin' deal that ah widn'ae do for the man.
Tempest-Sixsmith's seen me safe, right from day uno - be it letting me claim hoosin' benayfit from his employees' digs when ah first began working on the estate (an' poortith was still ma main foe) to promoting me tae Head Valet or whatever-tha-fuck ma title currently is.
This was aw within six months ay conscientious, yet perfectly reasonable toil.
An' ye ken what?
There hasn'ae been too many people ay his calibre in ma life thus far. The kind ay upbringing that ah've always been accustomed tae has been largely contaminated by bad eegs caught in the loop ay thievin', tae skag, tae jail, tae brutality, tae a lick ah the rock; from hoose-breakin', tae savagery, tae bullpen, tae settling finally for extinction. Ye get the picture. It goes oan and oan as ye well know.
But that was never for me.
Tee-Ess, or Dougie as he prefers tae be called, is more than just a boss okay, he's a brethren. A cohort and a confident. He could so easily've told me tae sling ma fuckin' hook on countless an eve over the past months and ah widn'ae have questioned it but he never did.
He never would. Right from the off. Ah've always loved tae blether with him, a brandy or two to the good. Invariably, he's urged me tae digress aboot the sort ay exploits that've occurred in ma life up til now, before our paths crossed.
And cross they have and I suppose our hand was dealt long ago.
Jesus, ye know ah prayed ye wasn'ae real loads of times over the last decade-and-a-half. In protest mostly, admittedly. Now ah'm not so sure. But if you aren'ae the saviour we were promised, then undoubtedly we're fucked.
Beyond belief.
2. mOrNiNg
There's this lovely wee missy called Geraldine on the guesty and the boss man's had his eye oan her fae as long as ah can remember. She's a pretty, petite sort and from an aristocratic lineage which suites Dougie's clan right doon tae the shiny marble flooring. But it isn'ae just about that fae him - he truly loves this lassie. And ah'm pretty sure it's reciprocated. Ah've seen the way she looks at him, aw sparkly-eyed and star-crossed. Or aw cross-eyed and stark - it's one ay the pair, anyhow.
Preparations began with the meat, neeps and tatties searing and steaming life into the kitchen. There was maself, head chef Stewie and a couple ay the cooks who've been workin' fae the boss frae time-immemorial manning the stations. Now, due tae the relaxed business practices around here, unsurprisingly, the veggies hadn'ae been stocked up sufficiently to cater fae all attendees, so ah scanned about fae the big man tae rectify the situation.
He was on the front lawn spraffing away to Jay, the lazy-arsed garden-slouchin' motherfucker as usual, so ah opened a window, menu in hand, and interrupted them:
'Someone needs tae scoot down to the market fae, er fennel, Jerusalem artichokey-type things, um, Kohlrabi (or whatever) and the suchlike..'
Dougie raises a hand and says nae bother, he'll shoot down there himself.
Before long, a V8 Vantage roar followed by a clood ay gravel announced his departure as Douglas Tempest-Sixsmith span doon the driveway towards Bovingdon Open Air Market and into a tornado of trouble.
3. aFtErNoOn
'Useless bastards,' I willnae let up, aw sing-song like as Dougie comes unexpectedly crashing through the double doors and slumps ontae one of the chopping surfaces lookin' nae too braw and greener than the mortared mint leaves.
He isn'ae fuckin' aboot.
'What the fuck?' yawps Stewie, dropping his tongs as he scampers over tae the main man. 'You okay boss? What's happened?'
Douglas disn'ae answer. He just stares beyond the kitchen walls, his eyes nae blinking and his hands shaking violently.
'Dougie, chap. Dougie, what the fuck's gone oan laddie?' ah plead. For some reason a sinking feeling starts tae consume me. It's that thoosain-yard stare plastered across his face, coupled with the unholy colour ay his cheeks that are starting tae unsettle me. He's in a bad way and I get the feeling it could mean trouble for us all.
'Dougie, it's me Leighton. Yer auld mucker. What the fuck chap? You're okay now... You're okay now.' I try tae sound assured, rubbing his back and shooders but I've never seen a bodie look this scared or defeated. Never once.
4. tEaTiMe
'Leighton, I'm in big trouble.'
We're sat consuming an exquisite (and much needed) Cognac in the enduringly-dusty, antiquated study. He's pleading:
'You have to listen to me very carefully and I swear that every single word I relay is the gospel truth. Please believe me.'
'Of course ah fuckin' will Doug, Jesus. You've been ay the bunemaist order tae me since I've known ye. Like a brair ma friend and ah'd never doubt yer word oan anything. What's occurred laddie? Aam behauden to ye - you know that. Aam always here for ye, ken?'
Douglas closes his eyes for a juncture that goes oan fae far too long and then he starts talking:
'When I arrived at the market everything seemed as charmingly agreeable as usual. I strolled past the jewellery rotunda and exchanged the obligatory jolly prattle with Derrick - is it Derrick? Oh you know the chap I mean? Portly fellow who runs the Frogmore Farm Shop stall - him with the auburn sideburns and that radio-mic thingy?'
'Ah, ye mean Barry,' ah laugh. Huge ginger chops oan the side ay his heed!'
'Yes indeed, that's the chap. A good fellow - supplies us with prime cuts of venison when the occasion demands. Well anyway, we exchanged a few pleasantries and he teased me a little about this evening's events and whether Geraldine was attending and then on I pottered to the fruit and vegetable stall.
And that's when things took, well, something of a turn.'
'A turn?' ah offer, puzzled.
Then he drops this oan me:
'As I turned the corner, between the mobile phone stall and that curious New Age trinket stand, a tall shadowy figure of a man clattered straight into me with the most forceful of intent. I almost crumpled to the cobblestones. I promise you, it was nothing like an accident. This peculiar individual unsettled me of the like I've never experienced before. There was just something wrong about him, very wrong. I couldn't really discern the features as his face was obscured, cloaked beneath this long inky-black capuche. A vague rasping sound oozed from his mouth in my direction and my eyes were momentarily dazzled by the glint of what I was certain was some kind of blade he was carrying that glistened in the sunlight. I was overcome with nausea and momentarily, I found my breathing had ceased. I was in shock Leighton. My whole field of vision became a swimming blur of colours. I guessed that he must be one of these 'hoodies' that one's been reading about, hell-bent on perpetrating their knife-crime, with no intent but to ruin.'
Ah interject, 'Look Dougie, this isn'ae a reason tae freak out. Chap, yee've been workin' far too har-'
'LISTEN TO ME LEIGHTON!' He's bellowing, shocking me intae silence fae the rest of his twisted tale:
'Listen to me carefully, please. You must take heed of what I tell you. I'm begging you.'
Ah just nod.
'Immediately I scurried away, veering and skewing before taking a couple of disconcerted wrong turns in an attempt to regain some vague level of composure before hurtling towards where the greens stall stood.
And there he was again.
This sinister, downright fucking malevolent looking hoodie was a mere foot away from where I'd stumbled to a halt. He was facing slightly away from me, in profile against the waxy moon. His stature was incredibly intimidating as he towered above the red and white striped canopy.
Then, very slowly, he rolled back the long hood from the concealed face and finally revealed his identity.
It was Death.
Death himself,' Dougie avows. 'As in the personification of death. It was the Grim Reaper, Leighton.'
Ma eyes widen. Has this cunt actually lost his fuckin' mind? Aul' Grim Reaps? I dinn'ae say shite though 'cos tears are rolling doon his cheeks and he's traversing precariously close tae the threshold of hyperventilation. This gadge clearly believes what he's saying:
'I stopped stone-cold in my tracks. I just couldn't move. Death was over seven feet tall and shrouded in a hooded cloak, scythe leaning against his shoulder, betwixt his upper left arm and ribcage. He was rummaging through a tray of what looked like spoiled peaches with his spindly skeletal fingers.
And then slowly, spine-freezingly, he turned towards me.'
Dougie pauses briefly and fixes his eyes directly intae mine. Then he leans in at such close proximity that ah can blurrily smell the fear emanating from his very being:
'Death bestowed upon me the most threatening and peril-filled glare that I've ever been met with. I have no doubt that this icy stare will be the most poignant vision I'll ever have on this beautiful spinning sphere. And very very soon Leighton, and I'm certain of this, the last. This is the end. This is my demise and it's so terrifying. Oh God, that look was so devoid of mercy.
So grave. So full of menace.'
With this, ma dear friend begins tae weep ay the like that I've never heard from anyone before, be they man, woman or snared animal.
After a time, he coughs, then sobs:
'I ran and ran and ran. I didn't think I was going to make it to the car...'
Finally, almost inaudibly, he croaks:
'Please tell Geraldine that I love her. I always have. I don't think I'm going to be afforded the opportunity.'
5. eArLy EvEnIng
And immediately a scheme is devising itself in ma heed.
Ah try tae shake Douglas intae some sort ay sense that all is far from lost:
'Now, listen tae me,' ah implore to him. 'Ye take ma Corsa and ye drive tae ma mam's hoose up in Edinburgh. An' ye fuckin' joyride it swift-style ye hear, like a methed-up ram raider. Ah ken it isn'ae an Aston Martin but it will fuckin' shift if ye hammer yer foot tae the floor. Ye wear ma clothes, ye drive ma car and ye get as far away from this latent ambush conspiracy as is humanly possible, okay? Ah'll call ahead and forewarn the aul' dear that you're on yer way and tae ready the spare room. Just get oot ay Hertfordshire, get oot ay England and get oot ay this fuckin' grisly, culling Mictlantecuhti anathema's path. If he's still doon at Bovingdon now, ah'll stall the cunt for as long as possible so's ye can skedaddle -
QUICK TIME. MOVE YE DAFT CUNT!'
Following a brief embrace, the plan is in action.
Now it was just doon tae me to try and stonewall this hoodied Spectre ay Deeth type from sculling his way ower tae the fuckin' sticks oot here. And if possible, avoid getting intae a swedge wi' the bastard.
6. iNtO tHe AbYsS
On arrival at the market, ah hotfoot it past Barry's amplified jocular abuse emanating from the butcher's stall with a holler ay 'Ginger cunt!' Then ah skid roond the New Age bullshite stand, tearin' dreamcatchers an' medicine wheels with me in ma wake as ah belt towards the fruit and ve-CRUNCH!
He wasn'ae sifting through the onions any more. Or the okra.
Ah smashed reet intae the Demon ay Doom's emaciated frame in front ay the mobile phone stall. In a bedeviled effort, he'd been prodding his oversized distal phalanges unavailingly at the unforgiving keypad of the latest BlackBerry before ah almost upended the bastard.
Beneath an ominously purple crepuscular sky, Deeth glowered at me, rouge-drenched and rusty scythe raised high above his cowled cranium. He hissed:
'Just what in the Hell happens to be your boggle little man?'
Suddenly ah got brave:
'Now you listen tae me Mr Reaper 'cos aam not gonnae take shite oaf ay any cunt, ye got that? And especially not oaf ay gadges that fuck with ma friends, be they human or sentient entities. The perpetrators ah mean, not ma mates, obviously.'
This wicked and Godless Santa Muerte hunched doon towards me, belched a blasé yawn intae ma face an' sneered:
'I'm afraid I don't really follow, Leighton. And frankly, as uninterested as I already am, I happen to be doing my shopping and would prefer not to be disturbed, so if you would just kindly shuffle off this er...'
Danse Macabre's choreographer didn't bother to finish the sentence as he gestured vaguely towards the direction from which ah'd arrived. He surreptitiously slipped the phone he'd been casting an empty eye socket over into his Sainsbury's Bag for Life before beginning tae glide away.
'FUCK YER SHOPPING!' ah roared belligerently. Ma voice was splinterin'. 'Ma best friend was doon at this here market this afternoon daein' HIS shoppin' and ye took it upon yourself tae ruin his fuckin' life, what with shooting ill-boding and fuckin' menace-filled glares at him. He's terror-stricken now - convinced that his existence must be over.'
A look ay confusion briefly blackened Deeth's barren grimace and then he raised his left supraorbital foramen, stuttered and then scorned:
'Meh..? Menacing..?' He slowly shook his bony dome. 'Cretins. That was nothing like a menacing stare you pair of simple fleshwastes.
What that was, was simply an expression of surprise.'
'Surprise?' Ah shuddered.
'Yes - shock, amazement, etc. Surprise,' he hollowly breathed back.
Ah was confused:
'But..? Why..? Why were ye, surprised? I don't get it.' It was about aw ah had left.
Then the revelation:
'I was surprised Master Leighton, because the very last person I was expecting to stumble into whilst shopping in a Hertfordshire marketplace this afternoon was your snivelling friend Mr Tempest-Sixsmith as I have an imperative appointment booked with him for later tonight...
Three hundred miles away in an Edinburgh tenement.'
And with that he was gone.
Quality mate brilliant idea, hard to read at first but you kinda get in the rytham after a bit!
ReplyDeleteNice use of 'phalanges'...
ReplyDelete