Sunday, September 03, 2006

A bit more of my book

Another snippet from the Electronic Mug's Game (I posted the 1st chunk back in May). Warning: contains lots of swearing and violence.
That’s right, me old son” said Vince, “Have a seat”, and pointed Charlie to the big armchair in the centre of the room. Vince had some nice gear in the house, he'd become an expert at nosing around skips ever since he'd got chummy with the squatters, and Tracy every now and then went and put on a bit of an act in front of charities and social workers until they got her a few more sticks of furniture. Thing that pissed her off, though, was that no two pieces matched, she really wanted proper stuff, she did.
“Got sumfink for me, have yer?” asked Charlie.
“Well that all depends,” said Vince, “first we’d like to know summat,” and he paused a moment, then asked him straight, "What was it you told Arris down the Skinhead's Arse the other afternoon?".
"Wot?" said Charlie, "I ain't bin down there in ages, and anyway I wouldn't have nuffink to do wiv that cunt Arris".
"Not what I heard," said Vince, "I had hoped you were gonna be straight with us. So tonight, Charlie Palmer, you've won the star prize – the hole in the head." And at that, he stood up, close to old Charlie, and Vince was a very big bloke, and Charlie started to look a bit worried.
Vince I could best describe as looking like Steve McQueen, only he'd have dwarfed the real one if you'd stood them side-by-side, he had that real outdoors, rugged look, like he was an international engineer or something. You expected him to be jetting out to Malaysia or somewhere to plug a dam that was about to burst, and he was about the only bloke in the entire world who knew how to fix it, and he'd get it sorted, which would make him a local hero, and the locals would bring him back on their shoulders with all the village virgins scattering petals in front of him, offering to do all the dirty things you could ever imagine. But he weren't nothing like that, he just looked like it. Like everyone else, he was on the dole, occasionally working as a builder or repairing motors, and now and then having a nice little scam going.
Vince went to Spider, in this sort of poncey voice,
"Nurse, would you prepare the patient, please?".
"Certainly, doctor," said Spider, "Where?".
"On his fuckin' head," said Vince, "where d'you think?".
"Yeah, but where on his head?" asked Spider.
Vince had to think about it a minute, then he said, "A bit off to one side, y'know, above the jawbone, I think that'll give us a nice angle on the job so's I want have to put too much weight into it".
"Okey dokey," said Spider, and quick as a flash, got out his razor, and sliced a piece out of Charlie's scalp, which hung down like on a hinge, with hair on one side and all the red stuff, on the side that was uppermost.
"Eeeeeyargh!" said Charlie.
I was amazed, and I had to ask him, "'Ere, Spider, how'd you do that? It's a near perfect square, you been practicing on the cat or summat?".
"All in the wrist action, me son," said Spider.
"Well you get enough practice with that, or so I hear" said Tel.
At this point Vince picked the Black & Decker up, and not surprisingly, Charlie started to look very worried.
"It's quite simple, Charlie," said Vince, "I want the truth out a you and I'm gonna drill through your thick head until I get it".
"I hope that drill bit's clean" said Charlie.
"I bought it this morning, a brand new three-eighths general purpose one," said Vince.
“Is that three-eighths of an inch? I don't want any fuckin' millimetres coming near me”, said Charlie.
“He's got a point there”, said Tel, “Millimetres are French, like. You don't want millimetres in your head”
“Course it's inches”, replied Vince, “Millimetres don't come in eighths, do they, they're all something point something. Dunno why you're fretting about it, though, this is a hole in your head, not a friggin' bathroom fitting”
“Maybe we could compromise there”, I suggested, ”we could screw a nice soapdish or a towel rail or something on him afterwards”
Tel said, "I still reckon you should've got a masonry bit."
"Even Charlie's not that fuckin' thick," said Vince, "Anyway, I asked the bloke behind the information desk at the B&Q, what bit d'you need to drill through some silly old sod's head, and this is what he sold me".
And he looked at the drill a minute then went, "High speed or low speed?".
"I should think it'll make a neater hole on high," I said.
"Yeah, but you'll get extra torque on low," said Tel, who knows about these things. "I'll start on high then switch down to low if the going gets tough. That alright with you, Charlie?".
Charlie just nodded, difficult question to answer under the circumstances, I suppose, and whimpered:
"Just don't use the hammer action, will yer?"
So Vince started drilling in the patch Spider had cut away, while my job was to act like Mr. Nice, so I said,
"Look, Charlie, you better tell us the truth, cause if Vince gets this wrong, it could go all the way through to your brain".
At that point Spider cut in with, "Not unless you stick it up his arse, it won't". Everyone apart from Charlie was guffawing with laughter, especially Vince, which made him slip, and the drill cut a three inch channel going North by North East up Charlie's head.
"Eeeeeyargh!," said Charlie again, who was now looking very frightened, which weren't surprising, really.
"Now look what you made me go and do," said Vince.


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