and crouched
two feet on the toilet, ignoring the foulness below. He picked up the toilet
roll off the floor and crammed a pile of it down his pants to nurse his wound.
Sigh. Exhale. Breathe.
Just how long
was he going to sit here?
They would
come, he was sure of that. He should have kept going.
Found a park
somewhere and disappeared into this miserable town.
He had a
phone. He could have called a cab. And he had the money too.
Almost four
grand he’d lifted from the register. It was sitting right there beside the –
Skarzy put his
hand in the empty left pocket, and heard the whole world laughing at him.
He looked
down, tears emerging. Found himself staring at five green turds.
AAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH
He bit back a
scream and hit the toilet to flush.
And then a
second later he heard a wallop. And then Lucy’s voice.
2
“You loser .”
THROP.
Someone belted
the door with a bat.
CHOLAK.
Someone struck
it with a chain.
Throp-cholak-throp-cholak-throp-cholak-
“Just fuck
off,” Skarzy muttered.
“What did he
say…?” someone whispered.
“Open the
fucking door ya cunt!”
Skarzy managed
a smile. “No.”
There was
silence for a moment. And then a rustling from the cubicle next door.
Skarzy brought his arms to his face
defensively. A curly haired boy peered over the side.
“What’s up?”
Skarzy muttered. He’d met the kid for first time that night. His nickname was
Serious.
Serious’ eyes
squinted with fury, and he lifted his leg over the side and began to climb over
into Skarzy’s cubicle. He carried the bat.
Skarzy jumped
hurriedly off the toilet and unbolted the door – he slapped Lucy away viciously
and tore on to the exit – before being struck in the back with the chain.
Skarzy
stumbled and the third assailant took a second swipe at his ankles, sending down
to the wretched piss puddle floor. He rolled over onto his back, his mouth open
in pain, no whimper uttered.
They stood
over him – the terrible trio – Mark Vostle, an old friend fucked over; Curly
Serious and the bat; pink skirt, black top, purple headband – the ex-princess
Luckcharm Lucy – the blonde girl and her two men at arms.
“Where’s the
money, bitch?” Lucy kicked him.
Skarzy
laughed, embarrassed. “I don’t have it.”
Vostle struck
at his legs again with the chain, and he cried out.
“I dropped it!”
Lucy jumped on
him, ravaging his pockets, Serious’ bat hovering just over his neck. She
dismantled his belongings completely – the cigarettes, his wallet, the phone –
all of it flung about in a frenzy. Her face was flushed with fiery desperation,
she hissed and scratched and spat like a starving cat, her chest heaving back
and forth with each millisecond pant.
Skarzy looked
at her and grinned seedily.
He locked his
pelvis around her waist.
“Motherfucker!”
she cried and looked at Serious, whose bat had gone lingering elsewhere.
He watched,
interested.
She turned to
Vostle, who was now suddenly taking a piss, and Skarzy’s grip hardened.
“Remember
this?” he goaded her, hands reaching for her back. “ Oh, Skarzy! Yes! Yes!
Fuck me! Fuck me, Skarzy! ”
“RRRROOAARRRHHHH!!!”
Lucy screamed, and suddenly went for his face.
His mouth. His
tongue.
Skarzy’s head
snapped back on the concrete and for a second he couldn’t make it out.
Lucy was
hacking away at his tongue like she was slicing meat off a bone.
It was his
turn to scream.
“YEEEHAAAHOOO!!!”
He tried to
punch her but she was too strong.
“Eat it!” she
shouted. “Eat your fucking words!”
And yeah, he
could have. That piece of tongue was rolling around in his mouth like a cut of
hamburger meat. For a second it actually felt like he was being kissed.
Vostle was
back again. He pulled Lucy off him.
“Jesus, what
the fuck?” he said angrily.
Dazed, Skarzy
sat up slowly, blood gushing out of his mouth like milk from a carton.
Eventually the piece of tongue made its evacuation.
But not quite
all
two feet on the toilet, ignoring the foulness below. He picked up the toilet
roll off the floor and crammed a pile of it down his pants to nurse his wound.
Sigh. Exhale. Breathe.
Just how long
was he going to sit here?
They would
come, he was sure of that. He should have kept going.
Found a park
somewhere and disappeared into this miserable town.
He had a
phone. He could have called a cab. And he had the money too.
Almost four
grand he’d lifted from the register. It was sitting right there beside the –
Skarzy put his
hand in the empty left pocket, and heard the whole world laughing at him.
He looked
down, tears emerging. Found himself staring at five green turds.
AAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH
He bit back a
scream and hit the toilet to flush.
And then a
second later he heard a wallop. And then Lucy’s voice.
2
“You loser .”
THROP.
Someone belted
the door with a bat.
CHOLAK.
Someone struck
it with a chain.
Throp-cholak-throp-cholak-throp-cholak-
“Just fuck
off,” Skarzy muttered.
“What did he
say…?” someone whispered.
“Open the
fucking door ya cunt!”
Skarzy managed
a smile. “No.”
There was
silence for a moment. And then a rustling from the cubicle next door.
Skarzy brought his arms to his face
defensively. A curly haired boy peered over the side.
“What’s up?”
Skarzy muttered. He’d met the kid for first time that night. His nickname was
Serious.
Serious’ eyes
squinted with fury, and he lifted his leg over the side and began to climb over
into Skarzy’s cubicle. He carried the bat.
Skarzy jumped
hurriedly off the toilet and unbolted the door – he slapped Lucy away viciously
and tore on to the exit – before being struck in the back with the chain.
Skarzy
stumbled and the third assailant took a second swipe at his ankles, sending down
to the wretched piss puddle floor. He rolled over onto his back, his mouth open
in pain, no whimper uttered.
They stood
over him – the terrible trio – Mark Vostle, an old friend fucked over; Curly
Serious and the bat; pink skirt, black top, purple headband – the ex-princess
Luckcharm Lucy – the blonde girl and her two men at arms.
“Where’s the
money, bitch?” Lucy kicked him.
Skarzy
laughed, embarrassed. “I don’t have it.”
Vostle struck
at his legs again with the chain, and he cried out.
“I dropped it!”
Lucy jumped on
him, ravaging his pockets, Serious’ bat hovering just over his neck. She
dismantled his belongings completely – the cigarettes, his wallet, the phone –
all of it flung about in a frenzy. Her face was flushed with fiery desperation,
she hissed and scratched and spat like a starving cat, her chest heaving back
and forth with each millisecond pant.
Skarzy looked
at her and grinned seedily.
He locked his
pelvis around her waist.
“Motherfucker!”
she cried and looked at Serious, whose bat had gone lingering elsewhere.
He watched,
interested.
She turned to
Vostle, who was now suddenly taking a piss, and Skarzy’s grip hardened.
“Remember
this?” he goaded her, hands reaching for her back. “ Oh, Skarzy! Yes! Yes!
Fuck me! Fuck me, Skarzy! ”
“RRRROOAARRRHHHH!!!”
Lucy screamed, and suddenly went for his face.
His mouth. His
tongue.
Skarzy’s head
snapped back on the concrete and for a second he couldn’t make it out.
Lucy was
hacking away at his tongue like she was slicing meat off a bone.
It was his
turn to scream.
“YEEEHAAAHOOO!!!”
He tried to
punch her but she was too strong.
“Eat it!” she
shouted. “Eat your fucking words!”
And yeah, he
could have. That piece of tongue was rolling around in his mouth like a cut of
hamburger meat. For a second it actually felt like he was being kissed.
Vostle was
back again. He pulled Lucy off him.
“Jesus, what
the fuck?” he said angrily.
Dazed, Skarzy
sat up slowly, blood gushing out of his mouth like milk from a carton.
Eventually the piece of tongue made its evacuation.
But not quite
all
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