Okay! This is the last little leg of this wander down memory lane, after this, which is where the tale Billy Crash really begins.
I swung my legs out of bed and noticed my nakedness and unable to find yesterday’s clothing within range, I simply stood and stretched and scratched an arse cheek.
God I felt so good inside…Kind of hollow but clean and ravenous!
I shuffled into the bathroom and while I pissed, I scraped bogies from my nose with a pleasing crackling sensation and considered breakfast! I’d have a full English breakfast!
The cats could have kibbles and fresh tuna and I would spend the day drinking good strong coffee and smoking some good strong skunk, just fart about you know…so I turned on my bathroom radio and I shit, I showered, I shaved, I plucked away stray eyebrow hairs and I checked for lumps and cavities, with that done I left the bathroom, no longer sleepily shuffling, and aware of my surrounding, I noticed something I hadn’t before….
You know in horror and thriller movies, where a character comes across what looks blood on the floor and they do that squat and dip thing? You know, they hunker down and dip in a finger and then rub it with finger and thumb….don’t you always go “DUH! Of course it’s blood!” or “yuk! Who would really do that? Not me!” Well, I got my chance to test this out…
When I came out of the bathroom, I saw what I first thought were kitty mud tracks….perfect little paw prints to-ing and fro-ing across the hard wooden floor (that fact that it was high summer and parched outside never even crossed my mind at the time) and slipping off the damp, used towel from around my neck I bent to wipe these cute but offending marks off of the floor….
Okay set the scene: Billy Crash crouches down with an indulgent smile on his face, he takes one corner of the towel and wipes first one little paw print, and then another. Here he pauses with a frown, waters drips from the ends of his hair and onto the hardwood floor with small pattering sounds, somewhere outside in the shimmering sun a woman screams “spit that out!” to either a child or a pup.
Billy tilts his head and reaches out with a water wrinkled finger and touches one of the perfectly formed stains, it smears between his damp fingers and settles between the whorls and loops.
“ay?” softly says he smearing it some more, he looks at all of the tracks and can see that there are several of these leading through each room, he stands and follows those that lead downstairs…
Okay, I just want to say that I know that this is going slowly and languidly, But I have to set you up properly for the zenith of this story, My life was ordinary in the terms of how I lived, the sun rose, I stole and fucked and consumed, the sun set and I slept the sleep of the comfortably numb.
In one week, one week, that had all begun to change.
I was a cunt, but a well educated cunt, I would really only read books so that I could feel superior to the woman I did regard as mine, those women whose knowledge matched or surpassed my own, I would silently, subtly subjugate. Star is another matter entirely…
Before my ‘criminal career’ there was college and university, and jobs in management.
Afterwards…full on rock and roll lifestyle…
What about before all of that? I’m not ready to go there yet.
My story is hard to swallow and could very well be, for all you know, simply made up from a large stock of movies, books and film knowledge, and an all 'round understanding of the various ‘-ology’s’ that science studies, I did say I was intelligent.
There is so much more out there that the human race doesn’t know about. It is better that we don’t, those things are meant to remain mysteries, to know and to see ruins everything.
When I got down stairs these tracks were all over the hardwood flooring but it was obvious to me that they originated from the sitting room, I wish I had never walked into there.
The only way to describe what I saw in there is this: an explosion of claret. My couch, the ceiling and the walls around it were splashed with blood! I walked toward this mess feeling vulnerable in just a towel, I goose-pimpled and began to shiver uncontrollably, I was remembering my dream and where it was located, in here, where there is all this blood…
On the couch amongst the bloodied cushions, were the clothes that I had been wearing before I’d gone to bed? I didn’t want to touch them. I looked around the room nothing was out of place except for the overturned coffee table and it’s accusing spilled contents.
I was compelled to touch the blood, and that I guess is what the movies get at when they do those crouches and dips scenes; we are compelled to touch death with a single quavering finger, never quite taking hold of the idea entirely…
As I was reaching out to touch the bloody clothing Bollox came streaking through he living room into the conservatory (fish tank type conservatory) and out into the garden and for the second time that morning, I’d squealed like a girl.
“Bollox! Bollox!” One curse was for the cat and one for reference to my fright.
“Fuck!” I turned back to the blood and once again I was scared out of my wits as the phone rang. I slid backwards away from the blood and, not taking my eyes off of the gore before me, I blindly felt for and grabbed the phone.
“Fucker! You scared me! Who is it?” I yelled into the phone.
“You skinny prick! What’s the matter wiv ya? I nearly had a heart attack” The voice said back to me. I blew out air and rubbed my chest above my pounding heart as though I could slow it down “Oi, you fat cunt! You deserve it” I could hear my voice bumping up and down, it was ‘geezer’ my ‘sales nouvelles matières grasses Daddy’ the perfect purveyor of all things nasty and cheap.
“You just outta bed you lazy slag?, I need ya for sumthing!” He hollered down the phone at me. I winced and took the phone away from my ear hissing down the phone I said “fuck you! I was getting pussy!” He roared with laughter at this.
I was looking at the blood, but absurdly, this fat fucker jabbering down the phone at me had commanded three quarters of my attention. Needed for to go to the weed house, crop three of the plants, hang em’ up to dry, meet him in the pub ‘we have to go to St Albans’. The mantle clock’s ticking got louder, I scared at and through the blood and ‘geezer’ waffled about this cocaine he had had, and how the dealer was a ‘right knob end’ and I stared at and through the blood.
“Billy….Billy…OI FUCKER YOU STILL THERE” Geezer yells, this strange twitch went through my left side, shooting upwards it caused my head to nod twice, and everything thumped back into place.
“I’ve got some cleaning to do” I slowly said…
“Fuck housework mate, we need to make some money”
“No, no… this is a big, ugly weird mess”
I heard a big exasperated farting sound and he hollered at me “Are you going soft? Pussy! leave the house work” He mumbled something to someone on his end and came back on yelling “You gonna go to the house for me then?”
“Who was that? I asked
“Are you gonna go for me?” He ignored my question completely
It occurred to me to tell ‘geezer’ about the dream and the blood, then it occurred that to me that I could be psychotic, and I didn’t want anyone to know.
“Why can’t you do it?” I sighed in resignation.
“Because I am busy getting us some nice shit, and I don’t trust any of the other fuckers to do it right” again he mumbled to someone on his end and came back yelling
“Mate, don’t fuck me about I aint got time for it”
I became decisive “I am not doing it mate, I can’t be fucked with all that shit today!”
“The fuck you are! If you say no” He fumed at me “I’m gonna come over there and I am gonna pound the two tonnes of fucking shingle I’ve been lumbered with, straight down your fucking japs-eye!”
What person can say no to such loving entreaties? Not I! I smiled without being able to help myself and I relented.
“You been paving peoples driveways while they are at work again? You fat fucking pikey!” I knew he knew this was an ‘okay! Yes! I’ll do it’ but I still wanna look hard quip.
“sum-fing like that you little shit…something like that” he laughed “Is your car on the road?” He asked.
“yeah…why?” Uh-ho, here we go…
“I need ya to go to Bernie’s and pick up a carbon filter as well…
I sighed; Bernie is scary and filthy and has these bulging glazed eyes and queer philosophies.
“All right, Okay, will do” I sighed “can I go now?”
The blood was still there when I got off the phone, and I did touch it, it was sticky and cold and as I stood looking at it I had thought I heard that imploration from my dreams.
“kisses” I looked around and nothing, Bollox came back through the conservatory door and it hit me! Dammit! I nearly fell for it…did fall for it! What a twat!
When I was lounging on the couch before whatever that weird shit that had happened was had happened, and I’d woken in my own bed…all of the doors had been closed, the conservatory one too, but the conservatory one had been unlocked…through the night too…can you see where I am going with this? I managed to convince myself that it was a prank by star and her trip headed adventurers and that my tired, frazzled, sleeping, self had slept or semi slept through the whole escapade, they had carried me to bed giggling and discussing the mechanics of laughter and squibbly stars.
I went and I got dressed (took my time, made myself look good) and then I left the house, bloody couch and all, to run errands and to have a pint or two.