right in front of her, was like a superhero in transition. The way that Franco bastard had treated her had been an insult to him as much as her. He had ripped the pish out of her in that pub, and now he was going to fucking well get it. — Ah’m no gaunny ask ye again, Ronnie said in a low wheeze. — What’s his name?
— Francis, she said softly, — Francis Begbie.
The brothers looked to each other. — Dinnae ken um. Ronnie turned to George, estimating that his younger brother was more likely to be a peer of this boy who had disgraced their sister.
— He’s a wide cunt, George conceded warily, now concerned that he would be the one delegated by Ronnie to take revenge. He looked into his older brother’s murderous eyes, then considered the growing reputation of this Francis Begbie boy. Estimated the potential squeeze of being caught between those two forces.
George’s silent younger brother, Alec, who, due to his prematurely thinning hair, was often taken for the senior of the pair, suddenly spoke. — He’s a deid cunt, if he disnae dae the right thing by oor Sam.
— Too fuckin right, Ronnie snapped. — Youse two go and pey this Francis Begbie cunt a wee visit. Pit him in the picture. Sort it oot. Jist tell um he disnae want
me
comin n seein um!
With her mother’s arms around her slender body, Samantha unleashed another cataract of sobs, even as she cracked a smile, unseen and buried in that meaty bosom.
Way of the Dragon
WE FUCKING WELL shat ourselves this afternoon, the Rent Boy and me. We’re in the flat, me sprawled over my two corded black beanbags, Renton spreadeagled oan the couch, discussing the barry time wi the skag the other night; puffing Denis Law and watching Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris’s climactic fight scene in
The Way of the Dragon
. This gram bag wi goat fae Swanney’s fair burning a hole in ma pocket, but Rents wants tae leave it for a bit n we’ve made a pact that we’re daein it thegither. I’m about tae broach the subject again when there’s a hammering on the door. Then a voice, booming through the letter box down the hall: — Youse cunts! Open the fuck up!
We look at each other and the thought flashes between us:
It’s Begbie! We stood the cunt up!
Neither ay us are in a hurry tae move. Renton can get it and take the blow across the chops. But he’s thinking the same thing. — We ignore it, ah whisper.
Rents eyes widen. — He’s probably heard the telly, but.
— Fuck! Right, we’ll both go. You talk … naw, I’ll talk … naw, you talk!
— What’s it tae fuckin well be!
— You talk!
We get up and head tae the door, mentally preparing excuses, and ah snip it open, and Begbie, excited, pushes past us intae the flat. He’s carrying six tins ay lager. — Sorry tae fuckin well stand yis up the other night, boys, a wee pressy tae fuckin well make it up likes, he says, as we follow him back intae the front room wi a glance ay bemused relief passing between us. Franco collapses oantae the couch. — Bruce Lee … fuckin barry! Aye, ah met this fuckin burd, eh? Mind ay that June, June Chisholm fae Leithy? Wisnae much back then but see the fuckin tits oan it now, ya cunt! Wisnae fuckin shy, tell yis that fir nowt …
— Aw aye, Rents sais, tentatively standing next tae him and springing a can. He chucks me one ower and ah crack it open, even though it’s Tennent’s pish, which ah cannae drink as the inside ay ma mooth instantly tastes like the tin. I slump back onto the bags.
— Hud that yin in ma fuckin sights fir donks, ya cunt. Franco rubs his baws through his jeans and treats us tae a pelvic thrust. — Saw her up the fuckin Spiral oan Friday night n ah jist fuckin well gits up n fires right in thaire! Anywey, been fuckin well nailin it aw weekend. Fill hoose, the loat. Wisnae even gaunny gie us a fuckin gam at first. Ah goes: ‘Ya cunt, giein us a fuckin gam’s the least yuv goat tae worry aboot!’ Aye, wisnae that fuckin shy once ah goat her gaun!
— Francis, she said softly, — Francis Begbie.
The brothers looked to each other. — Dinnae ken um. Ronnie turned to George, estimating that his younger brother was more likely to be a peer of this boy who had disgraced their sister.
— He’s a wide cunt, George conceded warily, now concerned that he would be the one delegated by Ronnie to take revenge. He looked into his older brother’s murderous eyes, then considered the growing reputation of this Francis Begbie boy. Estimated the potential squeeze of being caught between those two forces.
George’s silent younger brother, Alec, who, due to his prematurely thinning hair, was often taken for the senior of the pair, suddenly spoke. — He’s a deid cunt, if he disnae dae the right thing by oor Sam.
— Too fuckin right, Ronnie snapped. — Youse two go and pey this Francis Begbie cunt a wee visit. Pit him in the picture. Sort it oot. Jist tell um he disnae want
me
comin n seein um!
With her mother’s arms around her slender body, Samantha unleashed another cataract of sobs, even as she cracked a smile, unseen and buried in that meaty bosom.
Way of the Dragon
WE FUCKING WELL shat ourselves this afternoon, the Rent Boy and me. We’re in the flat, me sprawled over my two corded black beanbags, Renton spreadeagled oan the couch, discussing the barry time wi the skag the other night; puffing Denis Law and watching Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris’s climactic fight scene in
The Way of the Dragon
. This gram bag wi goat fae Swanney’s fair burning a hole in ma pocket, but Rents wants tae leave it for a bit n we’ve made a pact that we’re daein it thegither. I’m about tae broach the subject again when there’s a hammering on the door. Then a voice, booming through the letter box down the hall: — Youse cunts! Open the fuck up!
We look at each other and the thought flashes between us:
It’s Begbie! We stood the cunt up!
Neither ay us are in a hurry tae move. Renton can get it and take the blow across the chops. But he’s thinking the same thing. — We ignore it, ah whisper.
Rents eyes widen. — He’s probably heard the telly, but.
— Fuck! Right, we’ll both go. You talk … naw, I’ll talk … naw, you talk!
— What’s it tae fuckin well be!
— You talk!
We get up and head tae the door, mentally preparing excuses, and ah snip it open, and Begbie, excited, pushes past us intae the flat. He’s carrying six tins ay lager. — Sorry tae fuckin well stand yis up the other night, boys, a wee pressy tae fuckin well make it up likes, he says, as we follow him back intae the front room wi a glance ay bemused relief passing between us. Franco collapses oantae the couch. — Bruce Lee … fuckin barry! Aye, ah met this fuckin burd, eh? Mind ay that June, June Chisholm fae Leithy? Wisnae much back then but see the fuckin tits oan it now, ya cunt! Wisnae fuckin shy, tell yis that fir nowt …
— Aw aye, Rents sais, tentatively standing next tae him and springing a can. He chucks me one ower and ah crack it open, even though it’s Tennent’s pish, which ah cannae drink as the inside ay ma mooth instantly tastes like the tin. I slump back onto the bags.
— Hud that yin in ma fuckin sights fir donks, ya cunt. Franco rubs his baws through his jeans and treats us tae a pelvic thrust. — Saw her up the fuckin Spiral oan Friday night n ah jist fuckin well gits up n fires right in thaire! Anywey, been fuckin well nailin it aw weekend. Fill hoose, the loat. Wisnae even gaunny gie us a fuckin gam at first. Ah goes: ‘Ya cunt, giein us a fuckin gam’s the least yuv goat tae worry aboot!’ Aye, wisnae that fuckin shy once ah goat her gaun!
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