Pedro Lenz - Naw Much of a Talker

Stuff like that wis whit ah wis thinkin as ah twisted an’ turned oan this stupit fuckin survival bed, rememberin Sonny Boy, the tanned bastard in the sports shop who’d palmed the fucker oan tae me, an’ whether ah wantit tae ur naw, ah kid feel masel startin tae hate the fuckin cunt.

Wi a self-inflatable mattress like this, ye kin sleep at two thoosan metres even, nae bother. It’s the absolute best ye kin get at the moment. An’ as ah said, it’s guaranteed up tae two thoosan metres. Self-inflatable, breathable, thermoshield oan baith sides, still incredibly light an’ compact but. Guaranteed: ye’ll hiv nae bother wi it, up tae an’ includin two thoosan metres.

How the fuck dae ye make that oot, arsehole? If ah cannae fuckin sleep, even doon here in the flat country? Mibbe ah shid phone ye thenoo an’ ask whit exactly ye fuckin meant by guaranteed sleep oan yir super-duper mattress. An’ whether ye kid yodel a fuckin lullaby mibbe while yir at it mibbe, ya slimy cuntin patter-merchant.

Later, ah minded that — as a wean — when ah kidnae get tae sleep, ah sometimes crept intae ma parents’ bed, got in between the them an’ imagined ah wis Baby Bear an’ they wur Mummy an’ Daddy Bear an’ it wis hibernatin time, we wur jist hibernatin jist, so it wis aw cool, nae sweat, etc etc etc — an’ ahd drift aff an’ widnae hiv tae imagine any mair. That wis a trick ah wis really guid at as a wean: imaginin summit nice jist. Nae idea how an’ why ah forgot how tae dae it.

Anither bit later, ah wis askin masel hid ah been a fuckin nutter tae gi’e Regula aw the fuckin Mellaril ah hid in the hoose. Ye needed a prescription fur the stuff. Tae replenish ma supplies, ahd need tae come up wi a story fur Dr Wydenmeyer. He might be a guid guy, Dr Wydenmeyer, he disnae fuckin jist haun stuff oot but.

When it got tae the point ah wis thinkin the night must be over, ah went intae the kitchen furra gulp ae water. Ah looked at the clock: it wis still only hawf past twelve. Ah thought the clock hid stopped. The wan oan the cooker wis sayin the same but — so ah hid tae believe it even if nae cunt kin believe how fast time kin fly sometimes, an’ sometimes naw at aw.

Ah sat doon at the kitchen table an’ made a hawf-hearted attempt at a puzzle. Wan ae they advertisin things. Five minutes later, ah hid it. The word they wur lookin fur wis ‘Nescafe Gold’, so two words actually, nae need tae be pedantic but. Naw, it’s awright, Nescafe Gold, ah thought, pourin masel a wee rum. A Havanna Club. It’s got gold oan the label an’ aw.

Away an’ get some kip, Goalie, ah heard masel whisperin. Dae summit, Goalie. Gi’e Stofer a phone.

Stofer.

Hi, Stofer. It’s me, Goalie.

Goalie, hi! Whit ye needin?

Naw, this is a private call. Naw business. Ahm makin a private call here, okay?

Ah dont gi’e a fuck why yir cawin, mate. Know how little a fuck ah gi’e? Naw a fuckin fuck, Goalie. Tell me but: how ur ye speakin so quiet?

That’s the way he is, Stofer. He gi’es a fuck aboot fuck-aw, jist aboot. He disnae gi’e a fuck who ye ur, he disnae gi’e a fuck whit time it is, he gi’es a fuck aboot fuck-aw, except debts. Naw his ain, he disnae gi’e a fuck aboot them eether. See if ye owe him money but, he gi’es mair ae a fuck aboot that sometimes.

Stofer, hiv ye still that hoose doon in Spain?

How d’ye know aboot that?

Ye tellt me yersel. Jist recently there. D’ye naw mind?

Oh aye, so ah did. So why ye askin hiv ah still got it, ya stupit cunt? Why shid ah suddenly naw hiv it, if ah hid it the day afore yistirday still?

Ah dont know. Ye jist ask, dont ye?

Is that aw ye want tae know?

Can ah use it?

Use whit?

Yir hoose, man. Kin ah go there fur a week or ten days or summit. Ahd like tae take a look at it. Ahm interested jist.

Depends. Ahm goin doon in the Spring anyhoo. If ye want, ye kin come alang.

Naw, Stofer, ah mean noo. Kid ah go doon thenoo, fae themorra or the day efter themorra.

It’s naw got proper heatin.

That disnae matter.

Hey, Goalie, d’ye know how cauld it is doon there? Naewhere in the world is it as fuckin cauld as in Spain in winter when yiv nae heatin.

Disnae matter. Ahv a thermoshield inflatable mattress. It works up tae two thoosan metres, guaranteed.

Come intae Cobbles themorra an’ we kin talk aboot it.

Ahm naw allowed. Pesche, the cunt, his barred me. Fur his ain made-up reasons.

How?

Disnae matter how. That’s jist the way it is jist.

In that case, eight o’clock at the Spanish Club. An’ ah’ll clear things up wi Pesche fur ye. Realise, but, if ye want tae use the hoose, ye’ll need a car. Ye kin forget it doon there if yiv nae car.

Ah hivnae got wan any mair.

Ye’ll need wan but if ye want tae heid doon. Trust me. It’s naw like here where ye kin aye use public transport.

So ah kin go then?

We’ll talk aboot it themorra night. At eight. In the Spanish Club.

It’s in the diary. Thanks, Stofer.

Nae bother, Goalie. See an’ get a good kip. Ye need it, by the sound of it. Yir really naw soundin great.

You but ur soundin brilliant. Bye fur now, mate.

At some point ah fell asleep, eftir aw. In the mornin, ma back felt like an auld reinforcin rod. Warped. Rusty. Nae fuckin give in it, hardly.

Regi, ur ye awake? Say summit, Regula. Ah wis worried. When ah goes o’er tae the bed but, it’s empty. Regula’s gone. Ah thought ahd flipped. Ahd awready been thinkin ae goin o’er tae the bakery fur fresh croissants an’ some ae that multi-vitamin juice. Tae Stocker himsel, ah kin gi’e it: ah’ll pay ye at the end ae the month. He’s the owner, ye see, an’ still his a heart fur the likes ae me, he’s the auld-school type an’ naw jist obsessed wi the money. Ahd imagined takin her breakfast in bed an’ aw, lookin eftir her, readin an excitin book tae her, an’ — in between — strokin a strand ae hair back oota her face an’ stuff like that. Fucksake but. Noo she’s gone — an’ ah dont need fuckin croissants fur masel, ah dont even like fuckin croissants, if ah dae eat them fae time tae time, it’s only cos ivry other cunt dis, jist. They aw eat fuckin croissants an’ ah cannae rid masel ae the suspicion nae cunt actually likes the bastarn things. It’s wan ae they convention things jist, ah reckon. Ye eat the bastarn things, then ye get used tae eatin them, then it disnae enter yir heid there might be summit better ye kid eat in the mornins. The English eat sausages, eggs & bacon & stuff in the mornin. Naw any better, necessarily. But at least it’s summit diffrint but.

When ah get tae the kitchen, there’s a letter fae Regula lyin there. Naw a real letter, mair a kindae note.

Dear Goalie,

Thanks fur ivrythin. Yir a gem so ye ur. Ah didnae want tae wake ye. Can ah kip at yours again thenight if ah hivnae found anythin afore the evenin? Will ye leave a key under the plant fur me? That wid be a great help. Many thanks again. Luv & see you soon,

Regula

Ah read the letter fifteen times, fur sure. Course, ye kin sleep at mine. Thenight. Themorra night. The next thoosan years if ye fuckin want!

Ah’ll get the flat nice ‘n’ clean fur ye. Then ah’ll change the bed again. Ah’ll gi’e this dump a guid fuckin airin. Mibbe ah’ll even buy flooers, tae make the place nice. Even if, at this time ae year, ye kin only get they ugly laboratory-flooers fae some Dutch nuclear-reactor greenhouse or ither.

As if ah gi’e a fuck! Ah read Regula’s letter anither ten times. Twenty times. A hunner times!

As ah suspected. Stofer’s naw the worst cunt in the world. Course, he his his flaws, who disnae? He wis brand new but when ah needed him. Drew me a great wee map, wrote doon the name an’ address ae a Spanish guy fur me, gave me two keys an’ tellt me tae be careful, naw tae fuckin break anythin an’ tae turn the water aff again when ah wis leavin. Afore ah did leave, ah wis tae tell this Hector guy that wis me goin so he knew the hoose wis empty. Ah didnae hiv tae clean it, Hector’s wife wid dae that.