Irvine Welsh - A Decent Ride

— Soundin like um, aye sur, aye sur. . ah goes, still diggin, diggin n diggin. .

— Thaire wis this one book, Jonty, by this boy that reckoned wi wir aw jist matter in motion, like protons, neutrons n electrons, but wi a consciousness, Terry’s gaun oan, aye eh is sur, but then ma spade hits something solid. He hears it and jumps intae the ditch wi us n wir diggin the earth offay yon coffin. Much wee-er thin muh ma’s, aye it’s that awright, sur, much wee-er.

Terry’s goat a screwdriver in eh’s hand n ehs openin the screws oan the coffin. Ah dinnae like this cause ah kin feel rustlin. It’s like the sound ye make standin oan deid autumn leaves n it’s comin fae inside the coffin. Worse thin that, the coffin lid’s aw hoat. . — Terry, ah’m feart. . it’s like thaire’s something alive in thaire. . it’s aw warm. .

— Aye, ah kin feel the heat oaf this coffin, Terry goes, — but dinnae worry, pal, it’s wi him decomposin, it’s the energy wi him breakin doon, nowt tae worry aboot but, ay.

— Nowt tae worry aboot. .

— Ah jist hope thaire’s something left, eh sais, n eh’s prisin at they brass snibs at the side.

It snaps open, and eh slides the lid aside a bit and the smell. . naw sur, ah dinnae like this. . worse thin Jinty, much worse thin ma wee Jinty. . Ah huds ma nose but it’s like it goes intae yir mooth n poisons ye aw ower, still, aye sur. . aw sur, aw naw, ah dinnae like this. Terry’s goat they gauze masks that cyclists sometimes wear in toon, n eh’s gied me one tae pit oan, so ah does n it’s better. Thaire’s still that creepin, rustling sound comin fae the boax but. Terry pills the lid oaf n aw they flies swarm oot. Ma eyes ur waterin, n whin they clear ah sees thaire’s an auld man in a suit wi a face thit’s grey n rid n blue.

— Jesus fuck. . Terry says, lookin at the boy’s eyes. — Ehs blue eyes. . thir away. .

Terry’s right. . thaire’s nae eyes. It’s like thuv eaten ehs eyebaws oot! Thaire like they things wi hatched at skill. — The lava goat um. .

— Larvae. . fly larvae. . Terry says. — Shine the torch here, eh goes tae ays, n thir aw white n slitherin where thuv eaten ehs eyebaws oot, n thir comin oot ay his mooth n ears n nose n aw! Aw sur, ah dinnae like this, naw sur, naw sur.

Then Terry bends ower um, n eh’s unzippin the boy’s flies on ehs troosers! — What ur ye daein, Terry? ah sais, sortay through the mask, but eh kin hear ays.

— It’s awright, buddy, eh sais, ehs eyes aw blazin ower the toap ay the mask, n eh unbuckles the belt. . aw the smell, even through the mask. Ah tries tae turn away, ah does that, sur, but it aw comes up, the frozen pizza Karen made, pushin the mask aside, aw ower ays.

— Jonty, watch, ya dirty wee cunt, yir gittin it oan ehs suit, Terry shouts at ays. — Respect fir the fuckin deid but, mate! N eh’s taken the deid boy’s troosers doon n eh’s pillin oot the boy’s wee man. . ah big wee man. . n eh goes, aw happy, — That’s a fuckin welt! That’s ma dad, Jonty! That man wis ma faither, n eh pills a hud ay me n lifts up ehs mask n kisses ays oan the heid. Ah cringes, cause ah sees thum comin oot ay the boy’s cherry at the end ay his cock, mair ay they wrigglin fly maggots. . — Look. .

— Aye. . we’d better git ma faither boxed back up, Terry grins.

— But what aboot Henry Lawson?

— That fuckin imposter. . nivir ma faither. Eh’s yours but, Jonty, so ah’m no sayin nowt aboot um. But ah feel a huge fuckin weight oaf ma shoodirs. . help ays wi this lid. .

— Ye no gaunny pit ehs thing back in?

— Naw, that boy should be swingin free, plenty fir the maggots n worms tae feed oan whin they work thair wey through yon casket! Buryin cunts in this day n age. . fuckin mingin. . mind you, your ma wis cremated n that dinnae work oot sae good. .

— Aye, eh’s smellin awfay bad, Terry, aye sur.

— Aye, but Alec eywis did, ay. The peeve does that. Ah mind whin we went for a pish, he eywis used the shitehoose. Ah thought it wis cause eh wis a sexless jakey, n felt shown up standin next tae ma swingin beauty, but ah kin see now ah wis wrong. He probably suffered fae peever’s erse, n went intae the traps tae sort oot the follay-thru.

N wi pits the lid back oan n Terry secures the clips. Ah’m suddenly awfay sad. Terry looks at me. — Jonty, yir greetin, what is it, pal?

— You n me’s no brars any mair, ah sais, but ah’m really thinkin aboot Jinty, surely the flies’ bairn maggots widnae git at her in solid concrete. .

Eh pits ehs airm roond ma shoodirs. — We’re better thin brars, Jonty. We’re mates. Best mates. Nivir forget that. Brothers ye cannae choose, mates ye kin, n you’re the best, ya wee cunt! N dinnae worry, yuv goat a big fuckin tadger anywey, but it wis yir ma’s side ye goat that oaffay! Guaranteed!

— But muh ma’s nivir hud a tadger. .

— Oan her faither n her brother’s side but, Jonty, that’s whaire the heat thit yir packin comes fae!

— Aye. . Jinty ey used tae say. . but, but how dae you ken that, Terry, how dae ye ken ah’ve goat a big wee boaby man?

Terry looks a bit pit oot, then sais, — Ah kin size a man a mile away. They could be wearin a suit ay armour n ah’d ken. It’s no the bulge, that kin jist be aw the George Bernard Shaws or the cut ay the trooser. It’s no the feet or the hands or the nose. It’s aw in the walk, eh goes, then laughs. — N the boys at that Pub Wi Nae Name wir talkin aboot it!

— Talkin aboot it, ah goes. Ah’ll bet they wir makin fun ay ma boaby again. Well, serves thum right fir thair burnt faces! Aye it does!

— Too right! Now lit’s git this earth shovelled back!

N wi dae, aye sur, dae wi no but! Wir kickin the piles doon, then shovellin, n shovellin n shovellin, n it’s gaun back a loat easier thin it came up! Ah sais that tae Terry, ah goes, — It’s gaun doon quicker thin it came up!

Terry goes back, — It’s eywis the wey, pal, n eh isnae wrong. Naw sur, eh is not. Bit ah dinnae tell um that, cause ah ken ah kin go oan a bit sometimes, like Terry sais. Aye sur: oan a bit. Aye. Aye.

Then ah starts thinkin aboot Jinty again, n aw the bugs that goat Terry’s real faither Alec. Ah goes, — See, if yir real faither Alec wis pit in concrete, Terry, aw the bugs couldnae eat him like that, no if eh wis cased in concrete but, ay-no, Terry?

— Depends, if ye pit um in the concrete right away he’d be awright, but if ye left um oot, for even an ooir or so, the flies wid lay thair eggs. .

N ah’m greetin, thinkin aboot that fly gaun in n oot ay Jinty’s mooth n thinkin aboot Jinty wi nae eyes, aw sur, naw sur, naw sur. .

— What’s wrong, pal?

Ah want tae tell um, but ah cannae, ah cannae, cause it wisnae ma fault, she jist fell back. It wis like what happened tae her ma, like Karen sais, it wis what Maurice said when eh found her ma in bed. The name whin something bad happens tae the brain. A brain haemorrhoid. It wis like a light switch gaun oaf, Maurice ey used tae say, she didnae suffer. Jinty wis the same wey. Ah cannae tell anybody but, cause they wid find oot she took that bad stuff and ah ken they wid blame me, aye sur, they wid cause they eywis huv, fae way back tae the skill n real faither Henry hittin ays. But ah cannae tell Terry how it is ah’m greetin so ah jist goes, — It’s awfay sad, the bugs daein that tae yir faither, Terry. . it’s no right. .

— Aye, yir much better oaf cremated, mate. But that’s jist his remains, Jonty. He’s away, at peace now. So dinnae distress yirsel.

— Like heaven?

— Aye, ah suppose so, Terry sais, sortay thinkin, then goes, — If thaire’s endless rivers ay peeve n loads ay big hooses wi nae security cameras in heaven, eh sortay chuckles.

— Will ma Jinty be in heaven n aw, Terry?