Pedro Lenz - Naw Much of a Talker

Ah lost the place a bit that evenin, hiv tae admit. Wis a late night wi Stofer at the brewery. Stofer’s a poor bastard. A naw-very-successful runner ah know fae afore an’ aw. It wis obvious, even at school, he’d hiv a hard time wan day: he wis bein tormented even in they days. He’s hardly any friends, Stofer. Pesche takes care ae him occasionally, Uli did when he wis still able tae, an’ there’s mibbe anither two or three guys like that. That disnae mean but ye hiv tae stay in the brewery aw fuckin night, listenin tae aw they stories an’ knockin that many jars back. Stofer’s someone but who makes me feel sorry fur him, mibbe even wrongly, cos there’s probably fuck-aw reason tae feel sorry fur him an’ if there is, ma feelin sorry fur him isnae goney help him fuck-aw.

Least ah kin say ahv nivver owed Stofer nuthin, an’ he’s nivver owed me owt. That’s naw naw sayin nuthin eether. Ye cant say that ae ivrybody.

Know summit, Goalie, ye need tae pay mair attention tae yir karma. A loatae karmic matter his come intae contact wi yir soul. That only means but: yir also able tae carry it. If yiv guid karma, it disnae matter whit’s happened in the past. Aw ae that’s wiped oot. Aw that coonts is the path that leads tae yir inner centre. Know whit ahm oan aboot?

It’s naw, ah dont like Stofer. Methinks sometimes but, ahm gradually gettin tae an age when ye cant always blame ivry cunt else. Whit dis ma nut in sometimes wi Stofer is aw the borin fuckin esoteric gibble-gabble he’s constantly comin oot wi. Ahm sorry but: karma, matter, spirit, reincarnation etc, aw that might be nice ‘n’ intristin fur folk that ur intae that kinda thing, see me but, ahv come intae this world a few times awready, an’ by that ah mean: intae this here fuckin life. Ah tellt Stofer that an’ aw. Listen, Stofer: see if yiv come intae the world as often as ah hiv, ah went tae him, aw this reincarnation fuckin stuff offers ye fuck-aw hope. Keep it tae yir-fuckin-sel, wull ye.

Ah know, there’s nae need tae tell me, ah know ma arguments wur a bit super-fuckin-ficial. That fuckin said but: eftir four fuckin oors in an ale house, four oors ae listenin tae inner centres an’ transmi-fuckin-gration, four oors ae Stofer lecturin me an’ knockin back as many jars as we done, ahd like tae fuckin see the cunt who wid want, or wid be able, tae argue mair differentiatedly.

Know whit, Stofer? Seein as that tongue ae yours is in full fuckin flow, use it tae order me a beer, will ye.

Aw ae a sudden, in the middle ae aw this pseudo-intellectual babble aboot spheres an’ weltgeist an’ karmic matter, wee Stofer says he’s inherited a hoose, by the way, doon in Spain, in a village oan the Atlantic, an auld mansion, fae his uncle. It wis auld, but big but, thick solid stone walls an’ that. An’ if ahd ivver the time an’ felt like it, we kid take a trip doon thegither.

Course, ah thought right away ae that book ahd been readin, boot the two guys who inherit a hoose, somewhere in America, the South. Ah minded an’ aw that things didnae aye go well fur them, wance they hid the hoose. Ah tried tae explain it tae Stofer. It wis pointless. Cunt nivver reads — an’ certainly naw novels. At maist, he looks at they ghost stories ye kin buy at kiosks, or else aw that reincarnation crap ae his. That kin come in book form an’ aw. They’re naw whit ahd caw books but.

Whit’s that yir sayin? Yiv inherited a hoose?

Didnt ah jist tell ye.

Fae an uncle?

An uncle, aye.

In Spain?

Spain, aye. Oan the Atlantic.

A guid hoose? Is it in guid nick?

It is, aye.

An’ it belangs tae you?

Isnt that whit ahm tryin tae tell ye the hale time? Ur ye naw listenin, Goalie?

Obviously, aye: ah thought aboot it a lot oan the way hame. How dis Stofer, ae aw folk, get tae inherit a shack? Or wis he so fuckin high, he didnae realise the shite that wis dribblin ootae his mooth again? How wid ye make summit like that up but? Ye dont make shit like that up.

Widnae be bad anyhoo, that’s fur fuckin sure: a bit ae Spain again, a bit ae seaside an’ olive trees or whitivver kinda trees there is aroon there an’ above aw: the diffrint sounds. It’s ages since ah went somewhere. An’ the Fog here, if ye examine it closely, is hardly the kinda place tae gi’e ye that we’re-aw-goin-oana-summer-holiday kinda feelin.

It’s still a bit strange but that Stofer’s nivver mentioned the possibility he kid inherit summit at some point. Hisnae even mentioned he’s got relatives in Spain. Stofer wi a hoose in Spain? Sounds kinda odd. An’ as ahm thinkin that, ma thoughts start blendin wi images fae holiday brochures — beach, water, sun, water, beach — an’ at that, ah doze off.

Did ye hear Eso Stofer his inherited a hoose doon in Spain? His uncle died, apparently, an’ left the hoose tae him.

Uli’s still oan wan ae they drips. Least the colour in his face is back a bit.

Aye, he says, ah know.

Eh? Ye knew? Ye knew he’s inherited a hoose oan the Atlantic an’ ye didnae tell me? Whit’s wrang wi ye, mate? How come ye didnae tell me?

He tellt me when ye wur in the nick, ah think. Ahd forgot again, practically, in the meantime. If ahd minded, ahd definately hiv tellt ye.

Fuckit, Uli, ye shoulda tellt me right away. We’ll need tae go. That’s where oor next holiday’ll be. Think aboot it: Spain, the sea, the sea wind. The cured ham they hiv doon there, an’ then the dry sherry an’ the grilled sardines an’ aw they things pit thegither!

He didnae want tae think aboot things like that right noo. Leavin aside the fact he didnae know hoo much longer he’d be in here.

So ye knew Eso Stofer hid an uncle in Spain? Ah cannae mind him ivver mentionin him.

Naw, ah think ah did know that, aye, somehoo. Pesche mentioned it wance, ah think. Ah cannae mind right.

Which Pesche? The Cobbles yin?

Aye, exactly: him! Or mibbe it wis some ither cunt, ah dont know any mair. Stop askin sae many questions, Goalie. Ahv a buzzin noise in ma heid an’ it’s naw goney get any better if ah keep hivin tae answer questions, is it.

It’s as if Uli’s pretendin he’s naw intristit in aw this. It disnae exactly surprise me. He’s behavin a bit like Regula recently when ah phoned tae ask whit the story wis wi the stuff they found in the toilet at Cobbles. Regi spoke an’ aw like someone who’s talkin wi’oot really focusin oan whit they’re sayin, who’s thinkin ae whit kid happen next as they’re talkin.

Away tae fuck, Uli! A hoose ae yir ain at the seaside! Ah hope he disnae go an’ dae summit stupit wi it. Ye kid imagine Stofer daein anythin, jist aboot. He kid hiv the idea suddenly tae set up a Soul Centre wi joss sticks an’ a Reincarnation Library, the works. He’s capable ae haunin the hoose o’er tae a guru or some kinda movement. Ahd nivver hiv thought it, this hale hoose thing is makin me nervous but.

Dont make such a big thing ae it, Goalie. Mibbe the hoose is nuthin but a ruin nae cunt kid ivver live in. Ye know whit wee Stofer’s like.

Exactly, ah know whit like he is. Know almost too well. By the way, Uli, whit d’ye think: if ah open the windae a bit, kid we mibbe hiv a quick fag in here? Worst they kin dae is complain.

Smoke if ye want. Oan your heid be it but.

We left it in the end, cos ae the guy in the bed next tae Uli. Hooked up tae an oxygen machine he wis. Didnae want tae risk him freakin oot. He kidda been a former smoker but, who widda been pleased tae smell the smell ae smoke again. It wis possible anyhow. Ah jist didnae want tae risk it.

Ah dropped ma voice a bit an’ asked Uli hid he heard they’d found summit recently in the gents at Cobbles, a wee stash, an’ that they’d went straight fur me, the cunts, though ah knew fuck-aw aboot it.