Read Online Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Irvine Welsh
Tags: Fiction, General, Humorous, Young men, Psychology, Travel, Unread, Psychopathology, Addiction, Drug addicts, Edinburgh (Scotland), Narcotic addicts
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wir thair Rents. Boab Sullivan's perty, he sais.
– Naw man, ah've never been wi Lesley. Ah'm tellin the truth, which ah realise is a mistake. In some company people will always believe the opposite ay what ye tell thum; particularly whair sex is concerned.
– How come ye wir crashed oot wi her in the mornin at Sully's perty?
– Ah wis fucked man. Ootay ma box. Ah couldnae huv goat a stiff neck wi a doorstep as a pillay. Ah cannae remember the last time ah hud a ride. Ma explanation convinces them. They ken how long ah've been using heavily and what that kin mean in the shaggin stakes.
– Like, eh . . . somebody sais it wis . . . eh, Seeker's . Spud suggests.
– Wisnae Seeker, Sick Boy shakes his heid. He puts a hand oan the deid bairn's cauld cheek. Tears are fillin in his eyes. Ah'm gaun tae greet n aw. There's a constricting tightness in ma chest. One mystery has been solved. Wee Dawn's dead face looks so obviously like ma mate Simon Williamson's.
Then Sick Boy pulls up his jaykit sleeve, showing the weeping sores oan his airm. – Ah'm never touchin that shite again. Ah'm fuckin clean fae now oan. He pits oan that wounded stag expression which he always uses when he wants people tae fuck or finance him. Ah almost believe him.
Matty looks at him. – C'moan Si. Dinnae jump tae the wrong fuckin conclusions. Whit happened tae the bairn's nowt tae dae wi the skag. It's no Lesley's fault either. Ah wis oot ay order saying that. She wis a good mother. She loved that bairn. It's naebody's fault. Cot death n that.
24
Happens aw the time.
– Yeah, likesay, cot death man. . . ken what ah mean? Spud agreed. Ah feel thit ah love thum aw. Matty, Spud, Sick Boy and Lesley. Ab want tae tell thum. Ali try, but it comes oot as: – Ah'm cookin. They look at us, fuckin scoobied. – That's me, ah shrug ma shooders, in self–justification. Ah go ben the livin–room. This is murder. Lesley. Ah'm fuckin useless at these things. Less than useless in this condition. Of negative utility. Lesley’s nivir moved. Ah feel thit ah should mibbe go and comfort her, pit my airm aroond her. But ma bones feel twisted and scraped. Ah couldnae touch anybody right now. Instead ah babble.
– Really sorry Les. . . naebody's fault though. . . cot death n that. . . wee Dawn. . . barry wee bairn. . . fuckin shame. fuckin sin man, ah'm tellin ye. Lesley lifts her heid up an looks at us. Her thin, white face is like a skull wrapped in milky clingfilm; her eyes are rid raw, circled wi black rings.
– Ye cookin? Ah need a shot Mark. Ah really need a fuckin shot. C'moan Marky, cook us up a shot .
At last ah could be ay some practical help. There were syringes and needles lying aw ower the place. Ah tried tae remember which works wir mine. Sick Boy says that he'd never, ever share Wi any cunt. That's shite. Whin yir feelin like ah am, the truth is thit ye dinnae care too much. Ah take the nearest, which at least isnae Spud's, as he’s been sittin ower the other side ay the room. If Spud isnae HIV positive by now, then the Government should send a deputation ay statisticians doon tae Leith, because the laws ay probability urnae operatin properly here. Ah produce ma spoon, lighter, and cotton balls as well as some ay this fuckin Vim or Ajax thit Seeker has the audacity to call smack. Wir joined in the room by the punters.
– Back oot ma fuckin light boys, ah snap, gesturing the cunts away wi backward sweeps ay ma hand. A know ah'm playing at being The Man, n part ay us hates masel, because it's horrible when some cunt does it tae you. Naebody though, could ivir be in this position and then deny the proposition thit absolute power corrupts. The gadges move a few steps back and watch in silence as ah cook. The fuckers will huv tae wait. Lesley comes first, eftir me. That goes without saying.
JUNK DILEMMAS NO. 64
– Mark! Mark! Answer the door! Ah ken yir in thair son! Ah ken yir in thair!
Its ma Ma. It's been quite a while since ah've seen
– Naw man, ah've never been wi Lesley. Ah'm tellin the truth, which ah realise is a mistake. In some company people will always believe the opposite ay what ye tell thum; particularly whair sex is concerned.
– How come ye wir crashed oot wi her in the mornin at Sully's perty?
– Ah wis fucked man. Ootay ma box. Ah couldnae huv goat a stiff neck wi a doorstep as a pillay. Ah cannae remember the last time ah hud a ride. Ma explanation convinces them. They ken how long ah've been using heavily and what that kin mean in the shaggin stakes.
– Like, eh . . . somebody sais it wis . . . eh, Seeker's . Spud suggests.
– Wisnae Seeker, Sick Boy shakes his heid. He puts a hand oan the deid bairn's cauld cheek. Tears are fillin in his eyes. Ah'm gaun tae greet n aw. There's a constricting tightness in ma chest. One mystery has been solved. Wee Dawn's dead face looks so obviously like ma mate Simon Williamson's.
Then Sick Boy pulls up his jaykit sleeve, showing the weeping sores oan his airm. – Ah'm never touchin that shite again. Ah'm fuckin clean fae now oan. He pits oan that wounded stag expression which he always uses when he wants people tae fuck or finance him. Ah almost believe him.
Matty looks at him. – C'moan Si. Dinnae jump tae the wrong fuckin conclusions. Whit happened tae the bairn's nowt tae dae wi the skag. It's no Lesley's fault either. Ah wis oot ay order saying that. She wis a good mother. She loved that bairn. It's naebody's fault. Cot death n that.
24
Happens aw the time.
– Yeah, likesay, cot death man. . . ken what ah mean? Spud agreed. Ah feel thit ah love thum aw. Matty, Spud, Sick Boy and Lesley. Ab want tae tell thum. Ali try, but it comes oot as: – Ah'm cookin. They look at us, fuckin scoobied. – That's me, ah shrug ma shooders, in self–justification. Ah go ben the livin–room. This is murder. Lesley. Ah'm fuckin useless at these things. Less than useless in this condition. Of negative utility. Lesley’s nivir moved. Ah feel thit ah should mibbe go and comfort her, pit my airm aroond her. But ma bones feel twisted and scraped. Ah couldnae touch anybody right now. Instead ah babble.
– Really sorry Les. . . naebody's fault though. . . cot death n that. . . wee Dawn. . . barry wee bairn. . . fuckin shame. fuckin sin man, ah'm tellin ye. Lesley lifts her heid up an looks at us. Her thin, white face is like a skull wrapped in milky clingfilm; her eyes are rid raw, circled wi black rings.
– Ye cookin? Ah need a shot Mark. Ah really need a fuckin shot. C'moan Marky, cook us up a shot .
At last ah could be ay some practical help. There were syringes and needles lying aw ower the place. Ah tried tae remember which works wir mine. Sick Boy says that he'd never, ever share Wi any cunt. That's shite. Whin yir feelin like ah am, the truth is thit ye dinnae care too much. Ah take the nearest, which at least isnae Spud's, as he’s been sittin ower the other side ay the room. If Spud isnae HIV positive by now, then the Government should send a deputation ay statisticians doon tae Leith, because the laws ay probability urnae operatin properly here. Ah produce ma spoon, lighter, and cotton balls as well as some ay this fuckin Vim or Ajax thit Seeker has the audacity to call smack. Wir joined in the room by the punters.
– Back oot ma fuckin light boys, ah snap, gesturing the cunts away wi backward sweeps ay ma hand. A know ah'm playing at being The Man, n part ay us hates masel, because it's horrible when some cunt does it tae you. Naebody though, could ivir be in this position and then deny the proposition thit absolute power corrupts. The gadges move a few steps back and watch in silence as ah cook. The fuckers will huv tae wait. Lesley comes first, eftir me. That goes without saying.
JUNK DILEMMAS NO. 64
– Mark! Mark! Answer the door! Ah ken yir in thair son! Ah ken yir in thair!
Its ma Ma. It's been quite a while since ah've seen
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