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But she’s mingin, man; she really has shat herself.

Well, ah’m pretty like bleary-eyed because naw, ah’m no much ay an alcohol cat these days. That heavy, sludgy beer, man. Chizzie’s takin control but, n ushering us oot ay the pub and we’re back up tae Johnston Terrace n intae the nicked car again. Chizzie nearly reverses back intae this parked motor but sorts it oot n wir drivin doon the cobblestones tae Holyrood Park as darkness starts tae faw.

This lassie’s sortay well dodgy, likes. She’s been swearin fir the USSR n now she’s exposing ehr ginger pubes n climbin ower us fae the back intae the front seat, sortay sittin between us. Chizzie curses cause she’s oan the gearstick n eh cannae git it n wi make a racket fir a bit gaun doonhill. — Look at this then, ya cunts! Whae wants thir fuckin hole then? she roars at us. Ah mean, ah’ve no hud it offay Ali in yonks, but ye’d need tae be nutty tae go near this burd.

Chizzie laughs and nearly crashes the motor intae the big black gates ay Holyrood Park, but eh swerves in time n wir in. Eh pills up n wi git oot intae the park. Ah looks around at the big hill ay Arthur’s Seat. Thirs load ay buildin work gaun oan behind us. Some sortay government gig, fir the votin n the Parliament n aw that, likesay. It’s goat a wee bit nippy wi the sun gaun doon.

— Whaire we gaun, she slurs once in a while, as wi follay Chizzie roond tae the back ay the site. Wi git behind this big fence, away fae the road n facin the hill. Thir’s naebody roond, though ye kin hear ower the waw thit thir’s still builders workin overtime, but they cannae see us.

— Findin somewhaire cool tae perty, eh, Chizzie winks. It’s gittin a bit dark now. Ah finds a jelly in ma poakit n neck it, pure through nerves, man, pure through nerves.

— It’s time you goat the fuckin message now, hen, Chizzie laughs, n the radge jist unzips ehs flies n pills it oot, likesay ehs cock, a fat rubbery thing. Other gadges’ cocks look pure ugly, man. — Hi, you, c’moan, eh says tae this lassie, wi real menace in ehs voice, — git thum roond that.

The radge lassie sort ay looks a bit puzzled; it’s like she’s realising for the first time what it’s aw aboot. But then she shrugs aw hard n gits oan her knees and starts sucking oan Chizzie’s dick. Chizzie just stands and looks bored. After a minute or so, he’s gaun: — Fuckin rubbish. Dinnae even ken how tae dae it, eh sais. Then eh looks ower at me wi a grin n goes: — Ah’m gaunnae have tae teach this daft slag how tae suck cock here, Spud.

He stoaps n grabs her hair n pulls her ower tae they taped up piles ay bricks. — Awright . . . ah’m comin . . . ah’m fuckin comin, she screams, hittin ehs wrist.

Eh’s right oot ay order here. — Chill oot, Chizzie! Fuck sakes, ah shout, but the jelly’s kickin in n ma voice jist sortay tails away.

— Shut yir fuckihn mooth, Chizzie snaps at ehr, ignorin me, n she looks aw that petulant wey back at um. Eh forces hur back onto ehr knees by the side ay the bricks. — Stand up oan that, Spud, eh says. Ah’m pretty wasted now so ah jist climbs up ontae the bricks.

— Right, Chizzie goes, — git yir fuckihn knob oot.

— Aye, right! Git tae . . . fuu . . . ah slur as the Dynamic Earth Dome pure sortay shifts fae the side ay ma vision . . . then ah starts laughin ma heid oaf.

— Aye, yuh fuckin crappin bastard, the radge lassie shouts at ays, n her face is aw nasty, man, like it wis me thit wis pillin hur hair n ah nivir did nowt.

— Naw . . . it’s no likesay that, ah goes, — ah’m jist tryin tae be pals, likesay . . .

Chizzie’s laughin n shoutin: — Goan, ya cunt! Ah’m jist tryin tae fuckin well prove a point tae this fuckin hing-oot here . . .

The lassie’s sort ay loast it n ah’m losin it. — Raymond sais tae me, ye’ll be able tae git the bairn back, the lassie mumbles, drunk, in a world ay her ain, like me . . .

— Moan, you, ya cunt, Chizzie goes as ah look at ehs weird face n start sniggerin like a daft wee laddie as eh sortay unzips ays n takes ma dick oot. Ah cannae feel a thing but Chizzie’s goat a hud ah ma knob. Chizzie! Eh looks doon at this lassie. — See, burds n blow jobs? eh says back at ays. — Nivir met one whae could dae it right. Then eh’s back tae hur. — You fuckin well pey attention here because this is the best fuckin education yill ivir git, eh goes, n turns tae me again. — That’s fuckin birds for ye. It’s like ye eywis think birds kin cook cause ay yir ma, bit while thir awright wi simple food, ye nivir lit thum near anything that needs imagination or . . . subtlety. How is it aw the best chefs are gadges, likes oan telly n that? Same wi blow jobs. Maist ay thum jist cram it intae thir mooths and suck, gaun up n doon oan it, like thir tryin tae make a fanny oot ay thir mooth. Whin ah wis oan the beasts’ wing a boy showed ays how it wis done . . . first ye run yir tongue the length ay the cock . . . n eh grabs ma cock n starts lickin it . . . disnae take ye long in Spud’s case . . . huh huh huh . . .

Dynamic Earth . . . it’s supposed tae be barry in thaire.

— Cheeky bastard, ah gasp as ehs cauld tongue traces lighly along ma pure sensitive penile skin . . . Chizzie’s soundin like a
Blue Peter
presenter or Fanny Craddock or something . . . the place is spinnin n it’s gittin dark . . .

— Dae it, slaagg! Chizzie hisses, and ah think thit eh means me fir a bit, but it’s the bird, n she’s started followin his lead, takin the end ay ehs cock intae her mooth.

— Better . . . better, eh goes, — then ye have a flick at the heid . . . gittin nice n firm here, chavvy . . .

Ah wis n aw, but ah felt nowt. Jist nowt . . .

N ah hear Chizzie n ah’m thinkin aboot that boy thit won the Oscar, when eh goes ‘ah’m the king ay the world’ aw cause eh’d made this film fir the pictures that wis sortay a bit long, ah thoat, cause ah saw it last summer n that, n ah think ay Sick Boy, n ah bet ye eh does that kind ay thing in ehs mirror, goes like ‘ah’m the king ay the world’ . . . n Chizzie’s gaun oan . . . — . . . then ye start takin it in yir mooth, gently . . . gently does it . . . it needs fuckin subtlety . . . it’s no a fuckin contest tae see how much ye kin cram intae yir mooth . . . keep the tongue workin . . . loll it roond the length ay the cock . . . better . . . beh-tur . . .

— Aw fuck, Chizzie man, ah gasp, ma stomach feeling weak, looking at Chizzie’s nasty face around ma cock n if ever thir’s a face thit ye dinnae want roond yir cock, ever, it’s that yin n ah sortay realise fir the first time whit’s gaun oan here n ah pill oot . . .

Ehs eyes glare n eh looks at ays, then doon at the jakey lassie whae’s still suckin oan ehs cock. — See that! he sais aw victoriously. — Hud the cunt gaun thaire . . . whoa . . .

— It was jist thit ah wis fawin oaf the bricks . . . the bricks . . . ah telt um.

But now ah’m lookin at everthin through a sortay thin watery porridge as Chizzie grabs her heid violently. — Now it’s time tae increase the pace, now it’s time tae suck . . . suck . . . SUCK, YA FUCKIN HOOR! N ehs fuckin violently at her mooth, fuckin her heid, forcin it right down into her throat n daein a ranting race commentary: — And it’s Chizzie on the final furlong, eh’s givin the fuckin slag a good seein tae and it’s Chizzie . . . WHOOAAAAHHHH!!!!!

Eh hus her ginger mane in a vice-like grip, thrustin ehs groin intae ehr face, then eh withdraws, leaving hur gagging on his spunk and chokin, coughin n wiping ehr mouth. Eh nods ower tae her. — Congradulations, you’ve just graduated fae the Chizzie School of Sex.

That wisnae right, man, naw, naw, naw, so ah sortay stagger forward n ah’m doon oan ma knees beside this lassie. — It’s okay, likes, ah say, comforting her, n it’s like wi baith sortay need that, man, the two ay us, ken. N she suddenly says: — The baith ay yis then, they baith ay yis ya bastards, n shi sortay starts mashin at ma groin n ah’m no gittin hard so ah start kissin her oan the mooth n ah’m gaun: — Awright . . . awright, n ah’ve goat her leggings and pants off. Ah pull at them tae shake loose that dry lump ay shite, sortay like a broon golfbaw, and then ah finger her fanny n ah’m gittin hard. Ah’m strugglin a bit tae git the flunky oot ay packet n oan ma cock but ah huv tae . . . huv tae . . . huv tae . . . thir’s sticky, vile-smelling globules ay sortay congealed fanny-goo dripping fae her, ken, n ma knob goes in easy. Ah kin hear um, the Chizzie cat; mockin and sneerin while aw this is gaun oan n she’s sortay growlin back at him n ah feel as if ah’m no really there. Ah’m sortay ridin her fir a bit, but it’s crap, it’s no like ah thought it would be n how am a such a mug tae even think it would be like what it is wi Ali n ah’m angry, man, angry at masel n she’s screamin, sortay mockin, gaun: — C’moan, you! Fuckin harder! Is that aw yuv fuckin well goat! N ah keep thrustin till ah blaw muh muck intae the bag ah’m wrapped roond . . .

Ah rolls oaf n tries tae pill ma breeks up, wi the flunky still roond ma cock. Now Chizzie’s doon at her and eh grabs her n pushes her ower ontae her front n hacks up some phlegm from ehs throat and she’s gaun: — What the fuck . . . ? but ehs sookin some snot doon fae the back ay ehs nose, mixin up a swirlin cocktail in ehs mooth. Then eh droaps it ontae hur shite-encrusted arsehole. Chizzie’s positive, in the sortay medical sense ay the word, just but, jist in that scenario likesay, cause in sortay real life, that is one negative gadge, ken, so eh doesnae bother wi a spunkbag. Ah’m sortay assuming that eh kens or thinks she might be n aw but eh’s probably jist no bothered cause eh’s fuckin her hard up the erse. Yir no meant tae dae it that wey, yir meant tae start oaf slow . . . no thit me n Ali dae that or dae
anything
now . . . but she’s jist groanin and greetin soft tears, lookin like a bloated beached whale or seal that jist cannae struggle intae the water.

When eh finishes, eh gits oaf hur n wipes ehs shite-covered cock oan a clean part ay hur white leggings.

She’s rolls roond, her face aw rid n snotters are runnin oot her nose n she shouts: — Yuh fucken bastard! as she pills the leggings oan.

— Shut the fuck up! Chizzie snaps, punchin ehr right in the face. It makes a snappin sound n ah jist go aw tense n paralysed, even wi the jellies n the drink, like it wis me eh hit. Then she lits oot this high squeal as he gies hur a boot that nearly knocks her tit inside oot.

Ah find ma voice at that cause that’s like, fucked, man. — Hi, c’moan tae fuck, Chizzie . . . ah say, — that’s ootay order.

— Ah’ll tell what’s ootay order, chavvy, eh says pointin doon at hur, as she sits sobbing quietly, massaging hur tit, — dirty slags that need a fuckin wash! Well, here’s a fuckin wash fir ye!

Then eh jist starts pishin in hur hair, likesay dirty auld stale lager urine, man. N she disnae move or nowt like that, jist sits thair greetin. She looks that pathetic, man, so wretched, no like a human bein, and ah’m sortay thinkin, is that likesay how people see me, whin ah’m like really fucked up n that? This solitary jogger, aw in whites, runs past us, looks, then turns quickly away withoot brekin ehs stride. Ah kin hear the boys fae the buildin site shoutin at each other. Chizzie’s a nasty cat awright, everybody kens that. Anyone whae’d dae what he did . . . but Chizzie’s done ehs time for that. Peyed ehs debt tae society n aw that. What dae they see when they look at me bein wi him but?

N it hits ays, man; it hits ays thit ah’m a nasty bastard n aw. But it’s sortay like ah dinnae huv the kind ay . . . malevolence, man, the malevolence tae be sae sortay . . . contrived aboot it. Like maist people in this world, ma nastiness is like a kind ay passive nastiness, a sortay nastiness by omission, by no daein anything cause ah dinnae really care aboot anyone strongly enough tae sortay intervene, except the people ah really ken. Why kin ah no care fir everybody like ah care fir the people ah ken? Chizzie, well, eh’s a dangerous radge to pal aboot with, but eh was a mate in the jail n eh phoned ehs up wi the tip n that has tae likesay count for something . . . cause ah’m takin Andy n Ali to Disneyland n everythin’ll be jist hunky-dory again n it’s really aw cause ay Chizzie . . .

We head off, me n Chizzie, crossin the park at the Abbeyhill exit, tae hit another pub. Wir leaving the daft lassie tae her misery and sortay degradation n ah look back at hur, cause she’s whaire ah’m gaun, man, ah ken that, once Ali chucks ays that’s it, end of . . . n she awready hus really, so mibee it is . . . but naw, cause ah’ve goat money n ah’m gittin back proper wi her n ah’ve goat the Leith book n wir gaun tae Disneyland, man . . .

Wir staggerin aroond fir a bit n wi gits in this pub. Ah sortay tells Chizzie thit eh wis oot ay order n eh turns tae ays n says: — Dinnae huv any sympathy wi they cunts. That’s your problem, Spud, yir too nice tae cunts. Cunts like you think thit if every cunt likes aw they fuckin refugees n that, then everything pans oot awright, bit it disnae work that wey. Ken how, chavvy? Ehs face is inches fae mine, but ah kin still barely focus oan it. — Ken how? Cause they take the fuckin pish, that’s how. Mark ma fuckin words.

Ah’m half-cut, oot ay ma boax n thir’s a wad in ma pockit. But thir’s something in Chizzie’s face that annoys ays. It’s no really anything tae dae wi what ehs been saying or what eh’s done tae that woman or nowt like that. Ah sortay work it oot n it’s the wey eh kind ay raises ehs eyebrows n stares at ye then throws ehs heid back. Ah ken that ah’m gaunnae punch the cat, a good couple ay minutes before ah do. That couple ay minutes is spent winding him up, soas that him n ah both sortay ken what’s comin.

Then ah pure swing at um, n ah think ah’ve missed cause ah felt nowt n ma hand or airm, but ah see blood comin fae ehs nose n hear shouts roond the bar.

Chizzie’s pit ehs hands ower ehs face eftir ma blow, then ehs up, oan ehs feet n eh’s picked up the gless n the beer spills. Ah’m up n aw, n eh’s swung at ays n missed n the barman’s shouting at us. Chizzie’s droaped the gless but eh’s screamin: — OOTSIDE!

N ah’m heading oot but ah stoap n think; ah’m no gaun oot wi Chizzie, no way, man, so ah stoap at the door n let him go oot first. When he’s oot ah shut the pub door behind um n ah snib it loaked. Chizzie’s trying tae kick it in, tae git back intae ays, but the two barmen are over, n thir openin the door n shouting at um tae git the fuck away. Chizzie tries tae git in but the boy grabs um so Chizzie punches the cat. The boy n Chizzie are swedgein n the other boy grabs me and throws me oot. N it’s now sortay Chizzie and me against the boys fae the pub, which is sortay easy for the pub gadges because ah’m drunk n jellied n Chizzie’s drunk n besides ah cannae really fight. So we take a bit ay a doing n then they go back in, leaving us aw battered n groaning in the street.