Rich Hawkins: The Last Plague

“Of course I’m sure.”

“Do you know if Ralph did? That’s the sort of thing he’d do.”

“Ralph hasn’t booked a stripper.”

“I haven’t done what?” Ralph walked into the kitchen, sipping a bottle of German beer. He had changed into a Cradle of Filth t-shirt.

Frank looked from Joel to Ralph. “You didn’t order a stripper for tonight, did you?”

Ralph gasped in mock surprise. “Sir, I am offended. Order a stripper? On Joel’s stag night? Who’d have thought of such an idea?”

Frank folded his arms. “Did you?”

Ralph smiled. “I didn’t order a stripper. Wish I had done, though.”

“Good,” said Joel. “Where’s Magnus?”

Ralph took a gulp of beer. “He’s in the living room playing on the Xbox. Poor bloke needs a break from that wife of his. She sent him a text a minute ago saying he was neglecting his marital duties .”

Frank shook his head. “Bloody hell, that’s harsh.”

“Is she back on medication?” Joel asked.

“She should be.”

“She’s always had problems, even before she married Magnus,” said Ralph. “Everyone knows she’s crazy.”

“She’s bipolar, not crazy,” said Frank.

“Not to mention she weighs about twenty stone.”

Frank opened two beers, handed one to Joel.

Ralph scratched his beard. “Did you bring any toilet roll?”

They downed a round of shots, grimacing as the vodka burned in their throats. Frank welcomed the buzz from the alcohol. He had sent a text to Catherine; a simple message of affection. He touched his wedding ring with his thumb; it had dulled slightly over six years.

Being the groom, Joel would have the master bedroom with its king-sized bed; the others had to pull straws for the remaining two bedrooms.

Ralph pulled the short straw.

“Unlucky, mate,” said Magnus, smirking.

“Yeah, bad luck, bud.” Frank swigged a beer.

Ralph shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take the sofa. Slept in worse places.”

They formed a circle in the living room. More shots of vodka.

Frank raised his glass. “To Joel: may he be a brave man in the years ahead. May he have the strength to fight the good fight.”

“May he rest in peace,” said Ralph.

“May the Lord have mercy on his soul,” said Magnus.

“Amen,” they said together, heads bowed.

Then they laughed.

They downed their shots. Joel was last to finish. He patted his chest, screwed up his face.

Frank handed out the beers. Ralph offered cigars, and only Frank refused one, due to his asthma.

Joel swayed on his feet as he lit his cigar. “How many years have we been friends for?”

“Don’t get soppy, mate,” said Ralph. “You always do this when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” Joel protested.

Magnus laughed. His cigar plumed a tiny streak of smoke.

“Let him speak,” said Frank.

“We’ve been friends since playgroup. How old were we then? Four? Five?”

“More or less,” said Frank.

Joel smiled with the idiotic charm of inebriation. “And we were mates all the way through school.”

“The Fearsome Four,” said Frank.

“Yeah, four idiots,” said Magnus.

Ralph studied his cigar. “We left school sixteen years ago. Fucking hell. Seems like such a long time ago. Dumb, spotty teenagers.”

“But look at us now,” Joel said. “Older and a little wiser. My best man, Frank, and my two ushers. We’ve got responsibilities…”

“Apart from Ralph,” said Frank.

Ralph glowered. “I’ve got responsibilities.”

“You live with your parents,” said Magnus.

“It’s cheap. Mum does my laundry. Fuck off.”

“Like I was saying,” said Joel. “We’ve all got responsibilities and commitments, but we’ve still remained close.”

“Gay,” said Ralph, shaking his head.

“Fair point,” said Frank.

Magnus laughed.

Joel raised his bottle. “Cheers, lads.”

“Cheers.”

They drank.

Frank looked down the neck of his beer bottle. “Where did the time go?”

“Not down there,” Magnus said.

“Tell me about it,” said Ralph. He looked at the floor. “You remember when we used to go out clubbing every weekend? I miss those days. I miss the nights when we would go out and anything was possible.”

“Great nights,” Frank said.

“They certainly were,” said Magnus.

Joel finished his beer. “When you reach a certain age, clubbing loses its appeal. Seems a little desperate somehow. That’s why I wanted to spend the weekend here. I didn’t want to go to a nightclub or a big city. I know it’s a bit crap, but I wanted to be here with my real, oldest friends.”

“Joel’s going gay again,” muttered Ralph. “He’ll be wearing a gimp suit and stilettos any minute now.”

“We’re certainly getting old,” Frank said. “I’ve started to wear cardigans at home. I’m growing man-boobs.”

“How do you think I feel then?” said Ralph, patting his stomach.

“That’s because you eat too much, not old age,” said Magnus, adjusting his glasses. “Anyway, you think you’re got it bad? My pubes are going grey.”

“And you’ve got the muscle tone of a crack addict,” said Ralph.

Joel laughed.

“That is bad,” said Frank.

“Better wiry than curvy,” Magnus said.

Ralph shrugged, downed his beer until it was empty. “Fuck it. Put on the DVD. I want to drink until my eyes fall out.”

Hours passed in a haze of alcoholic fog. They watched Star Wars IV: A New Hope , laughing at Joel’s attempts to critique every iconic scene. He was a big Harrison Ford fan, and Han Solo was his favourite character.

Ralph kept calling him ‘Hand Solo’ and making a masturbation gesture with one hand.

Magnus said he preferred the Ewoks. Joel argued with Ralph when Ralph said horror was a superior genre to science fiction. Magnus performed his party trick of balancing a pen on his nose while Ralph poured beer down his throat. He managed to keep it balanced until Ralph swapped the beer for whiskey.

They played Guitar Hero on the Xbox. Magnus was surprisingly good, hitting each note perfectly, despite being steaming drunk.

Frank downed enough shots to numb his extremities. He laughed when Joel began slurring his words. He laughed when Ralph tried to light his own farts and only succeeded in burning his arse. He laughed for no reason.

Then there was a knock at the door.

Joel froze with a bottle at his mouth. “Who’s that?”

“What’s the time?” said Ralph, scratching his head.

Frank checked his watch. “Almost midnight.”

Magnus burped, gagged a little. His eyes were watery.

“We expecting any visitors?” said Joel. The last word came out as ‘vishitors’.

Ralph looked at Magnus. They both grinned. Ralph turned to Frank and winked.

Frank stifled a laugh.

Joel looked puzzled. Glazed eyes.

“I’ll see who it is,” said Ralph. He struggled to rise from the sofa. He stumbled into the hallway, giggling like a schoolboy high on sugar. His shoulder grazed the wall, knocking askew a framed painting of a riverside cottage.

Magnus looked at Joel. “I’m sorry, mate. It was Ralph’s idea.”

Joel’s face went slack. “What was…?”

Frank heard the front door open. Voices. Ralph laughed. The front door slammed.

Ralph appeared, trying to keep a straight face as he swigged from his beer. He carried a wooden kitchen chair in his other hand.

“What’s the chair for?” said Joel.

“What do you think?”

“Did you…?” Frank asked.