Chapter 7 - Dirty Old Egg-Suckin' Dog
"Are you going anywhere nice on holiday this year?"
Jim lay back in his seat, his head vigiorously massaged by the young woman with deep blue masacra on her eyelids, thick pink gloss on her lips, a thick layer of foundation which appeared to include the ground and upper stories also and a copious application of blusher. It was Saturday afternoon, and Jim's hair was being prepared for his perm. On his left sat Enid, a pensioner from Hepburn Gardens who was having a blue rinse and who, despite having met her only two minutes earlier, Jim now cherished like a sister.
"Nowhere exciting," Jim replied, "but last summer I did an amazing mission in my home town, near Alton Towers..."
"Oh, the theme park?"
"Yeah!"
"Aww, I love it there."
"Winner."
***
Janet's rucksack was ready and packed for her weekend in St. Andrews. It contained very little; a small wash bag, two blouses, a jumper, a coat, a skirt, a pair of trousers, her dress, seventeen pairs of shoes and her underwear. After heaving it onto her back and wondering why such a lightly packed weekend bag should weigh so much, she made her way to the stairs, checking the postbox at the bottom on her way out. There was only one package, a small, brown, padded envelope. She opened it on the spot and stared, gobsmacked, at the contents.
***
Jim marched happily back from the hairdresses to DRA. His newly permed hair shone in the afternoon sun and people stared, Jim's teeth gleaming as he smiled at them and wished them good afternoon. Life was good.
As he turned onto Buchanan Gardens he spotted a recognisable figure lumbering up ahead of him and he jogged to catch up.
"Mr. Simon!" he said by way of a greeting.
"Wye-ay man," replied Simon. "How're you doin'?"
"Not bad, not bad. Just been for the perm," he pointed at the hair and Simon nodded appreciativly. "So what brings you to these parts?"
"Matt," Simon sighed and handed a sheet of tattered A4 to Jim, who read it aloud.
"Christian Speed Dating Society, brackets C.S.D.S., close brackets, first meeting tonight, 7pm, Victory Memorial Hall. Bring a friend."
Beneath this there was a picture of a clock and a cross and under this the slogan "Love thy neighbour - quickly". Finally, at the bottom was a series of Biblical references: Leviticus 19:18, Romans 9:28, Proverbs 7:18, Song of Songs 1:4.
"Ah," replied Jim. "At least he's justified it."
Simon merely tutted.
As they entered the DRA carpark Simon stood dumbstruck as he watched a tall, lanky teenager, his face pockmarked by acne, struggle under the weight of 6 Tesco carrier bags stuffed full of small chocolate eggs.
"Winner!" said Jim, "they'll be mine." And he hurried off.
***
Janet ran back up the stairs to her flat, flung open the door and crashed into her room, ignoring the shocked cries from her flatmates. She threw shoes out from under her bed until she found that shoe, the one. She looked closly at it, examining it carefully before tugging at the lace, pulling it roughly through each of the small holes in her desperation to remove it. She was frantic, almost screaming with frustation as little by little it came free and she was able to hold it up. From the envelope she took another, identical shoe lace.
It was the same. The matching lace.
Janet turned over the envelope and examined the postmark. Jaén.
A tear rolled slowly down her cheek and dropped onto the shining leather of the shoe, leaving a small, salty stain.
He was here.
***
Simon didn't need to say anything. Once Matt had studied the poster that had been placed in his hands he knew why his former link group leader had come. This was accountability Geordie Mafia style.
Simon's giant fist landed heavily in Matt's stomach and he doubled over in pain, struggled to breathe. A knee like a mountain came up into his face, smashing his teeth and a final karate chop to the back of the neck left Matt on the ground.
Simon looked down at him. "Auf weidesein, pet," he said, and walked away.
That was all it took.
***
All it took for Jim was 168 Kinder Eggs. He lay on his double bed, surrounded by orange and white wrappers, chocolate smeared around his lips. He felt sick, but managed a smile as his sticky fingers held up the prize that would make Holly his.
Jim lay back in his seat, his head vigiorously massaged by the young woman with deep blue masacra on her eyelids, thick pink gloss on her lips, a thick layer of foundation which appeared to include the ground and upper stories also and a copious application of blusher. It was Saturday afternoon, and Jim's hair was being prepared for his perm. On his left sat Enid, a pensioner from Hepburn Gardens who was having a blue rinse and who, despite having met her only two minutes earlier, Jim now cherished like a sister.
"Nowhere exciting," Jim replied, "but last summer I did an amazing mission in my home town, near Alton Towers..."
"Oh, the theme park?"
"Yeah!"
"Aww, I love it there."
"Winner."
***
Janet's rucksack was ready and packed for her weekend in St. Andrews. It contained very little; a small wash bag, two blouses, a jumper, a coat, a skirt, a pair of trousers, her dress, seventeen pairs of shoes and her underwear. After heaving it onto her back and wondering why such a lightly packed weekend bag should weigh so much, she made her way to the stairs, checking the postbox at the bottom on her way out. There was only one package, a small, brown, padded envelope. She opened it on the spot and stared, gobsmacked, at the contents.
***
Jim marched happily back from the hairdresses to DRA. His newly permed hair shone in the afternoon sun and people stared, Jim's teeth gleaming as he smiled at them and wished them good afternoon. Life was good.
As he turned onto Buchanan Gardens he spotted a recognisable figure lumbering up ahead of him and he jogged to catch up.
"Mr. Simon!" he said by way of a greeting.
"Wye-ay man," replied Simon. "How're you doin'?"
"Not bad, not bad. Just been for the perm," he pointed at the hair and Simon nodded appreciativly. "So what brings you to these parts?"
"Matt," Simon sighed and handed a sheet of tattered A4 to Jim, who read it aloud.
"Christian Speed Dating Society, brackets C.S.D.S., close brackets, first meeting tonight, 7pm, Victory Memorial Hall. Bring a friend."
Beneath this there was a picture of a clock and a cross and under this the slogan "Love thy neighbour - quickly". Finally, at the bottom was a series of Biblical references: Leviticus 19:18, Romans 9:28, Proverbs 7:18, Song of Songs 1:4.
"Ah," replied Jim. "At least he's justified it."
Simon merely tutted.
As they entered the DRA carpark Simon stood dumbstruck as he watched a tall, lanky teenager, his face pockmarked by acne, struggle under the weight of 6 Tesco carrier bags stuffed full of small chocolate eggs.
"Winner!" said Jim, "they'll be mine." And he hurried off.
***
Janet ran back up the stairs to her flat, flung open the door and crashed into her room, ignoring the shocked cries from her flatmates. She threw shoes out from under her bed until she found that shoe, the one. She looked closly at it, examining it carefully before tugging at the lace, pulling it roughly through each of the small holes in her desperation to remove it. She was frantic, almost screaming with frustation as little by little it came free and she was able to hold it up. From the envelope she took another, identical shoe lace.
It was the same. The matching lace.
Janet turned over the envelope and examined the postmark. Jaén.
A tear rolled slowly down her cheek and dropped onto the shining leather of the shoe, leaving a small, salty stain.
He was here.
***
Simon didn't need to say anything. Once Matt had studied the poster that had been placed in his hands he knew why his former link group leader had come. This was accountability Geordie Mafia style.
Simon's giant fist landed heavily in Matt's stomach and he doubled over in pain, struggled to breathe. A knee like a mountain came up into his face, smashing his teeth and a final karate chop to the back of the neck left Matt on the ground.
Simon looked down at him. "Auf weidesein, pet," he said, and walked away.
That was all it took.
***
All it took for Jim was 168 Kinder Eggs. He lay on his double bed, surrounded by orange and white wrappers, chocolate smeared around his lips. He felt sick, but managed a smile as his sticky fingers held up the prize that would make Holly his.
posted by Kirk Yetton | 12:08 am
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