Pedro Lenz - Naw Much of a Talker

Ahm ponderin this subject again early wan eftirnoon when aw ae a sudden, some cunt’s hammerin the door despite the fact there’s a perfectly-functionin fuckin doorbell. Goalie! Ye in? Open up, it’s me — Uli!

Come in, ya tube, it’s open. Shut the door behind ye, yir lettin the fuckin cauld in. An’ there wis me thinkin ah wis nivver goney set eyes on ye again. Fancy a wee beer, mate, or will ah make ye a coffee?

He’s naw lookin his best, Uli. Sorry tae hiv tae say so, he looks ill but, mair like, ill-as-fuck, tae be precise. Whit’s up wi ye, Uli? Arse droppin oota ye or whit? Hiv ye the jaundice?

Shut yir gob, he goes.

So ye hiv got it!

Naw, it’s jist a wee cold jist.

That’s nivver a fuckin cold! Ye dont believe that yirsel even. First, yir naewhere tae be fuckin found. Then ye turn up lookin like this. Ye want tae see yirsel. Look in the fuckin mirror. Ye look like a chunk o cheese. Auld fuckin cheese at that. Ah dont want ye hingin aroon here if yiv got the jaundice. Cos that’s whit ye’d caw less than ideal. Ye shid go an’ see a doctor. Ah know wan. A decent yin. Ye need tae dae summit, mate. Caw him fae here if ye want. Dr Wydenmeyer can mibbe even take ye theday, if need be, he’s a guid doctor, a guid guy an’ aw, he disnae fuckin moralise like maist o the rest o them. Ah’ll caw him fur ye, if ye want.

Uli’s like that but: naw, ahm naw tae get over-excited, there’s nowt wrang wi him, he’s fit an’ well, jist wantit tae drop by an’ say hello. He his an envelope fur me an’ he’s sorry it took so long, a bit longer than expected. An’ he’s glad, he goes on, we can noo finally draw a line unner it.

Hing on, ahm the wan that draws the line, Uli. Ahm the wan that drew the line. If ye dae hiv the dosh noo, sae much the better, jist remember but: wis me drew the line.

Okay, look, ahm puttin the money in wi yir bananas so ye know where it is. Dont want ye comin greetin later, sayin ye cannae find it. Ah want ye tae coont it an’ aw, Goalie. Go on — check it.

It’s awright, ah’ll coont it later.

It’s a fair amount ae money, Goalie, an’ it’s aw yours. It really is a loat.

A year, nearly, in the Joke’s a loat an’ aw, Uli.

Then, a while later, he’s suddenly askin hiv ah naw any junk. A wee bit even. Hawf a sachet, even jist. Left-overs fae some ither time, mibbe. Ah kin feel cold turkey comin on. Gradually’s naw the word fur it. Aw ae a sudden, mair like.

Uli, hoo often hiv ah tae tell ye? Believe me wance an’ fur aw, will ye? Ahv given it up. Stopped. Turn ma flat upside doon if ye want, ye’ll naw find nuthin but. This place is cleaner than a wean’s fuckin bedroom. Tellin ye: they days ur gone noo. Ahm done wi aw that. Defin-fuckin-ately. Ah done a year in jail, Uli, an’ that’s e-fuckin-nough. It’s a new me noo, whit happened afore is by wi. Over an’ done wi. Ahm lookin furra job an’ puttin some money aside. Then ah’ll go on holiday, mibbe. The Mediterranean or summit. An’ that’s it. Oot in the mornin like ivry ither cunt, a jar or two in the evenin mibbe, a walk roon the village, then beddybies is whit it is fur me, ah’ll slide intae bed, nae stress, nae hassle, nae hivin tae talk tae nae cunt afore ah go tae sleep, nowt. An’ ah’ll nivver wait ivver again oan the kinda lyin bastard ah used tae be masel. An’ if ivver ah spot the drug squad oot in the street, ah’ll be able tae look the officer in question in the eye, be aw-friendly, say hello an’ if the cunt looks back, ah can think tae masel, aye, jist look, ya hunchbacked ratcatcher, go on — look at me jist, ya fuckin milkboy, cos ahm cleaner than clean noo so ah am, cleaner than you an’ aw the fuckin rest o them pit together.

An’ Uli’s like that: brand new, Goalie, well done you, nice wee wife, child seat in the motor, wee terraced hoose in the suburbs, member ae the health club an’ aw — ah probably cannae take it aw in masel, Uli reckons. Who dae ye think ye ur anyhoo? is next. Think yir a new man, like Paul on the way tae Damascus or summit. Get real, mate. An’ anyhoo: who’s aye first aff the mark when some cunt whips their needles oot?

He comes oot wi that ivry noo an’ then, Uli, aw that Paul-on-the-way-tae-Damascus stuff. Cunt knows his Bible. He used tae dae Greek an’ Latin. Wantit tae study Theology or mibbe he did, even. So he brings up Paul oan his way tae Damascus again. Aw that clap-trap. He breaks oot in a sweat meanwhile, a sickly fuckin sweat, aw over his face.

C’mon, say it, tell me, Goalie, jist tell me! Who dae ye think ye ur? An’ who dae ye think ye fuckin could be?

Ah think fuck-aw, Uli. Ah need tae gi’e up the drugs jist. Ahv got plans an’ that. Fur the time ahv got left –

Fucksake, yir soundin like ma auld man, Goalie. Howzaboot ye shut the fuck up an’ gi’e me summit jist?

Ah gi’ed him Resyl Plus. A small bottle ah hid. An’ a pair ae scissors tae help him get rid ae the drop counter. Wance he got it open, he knocked back the hale bottle in a oner. Ah gi’ed him a spoonful o honey tae get rid ae the taste an’ gave it: Ah think fuck-aw, Uli, honestly. Where ahm staunin, ivrythin’s good. You dae whit ye want but. All ae yis dae whit yis want. Ahm speakin fur masel jist. Got it? Ahm naw fuckin speakin fur the Sally Army, or whitivver. Ahm jist speakin fur masel jist.

Ahm oot — an’ it took me long enough, ah kin tell ye. Ah dont want tae go oan an’ oan aboot it eether — cos that’s the ither thing that really gets oan ma tits aboot drugs: the folk oan them nivver fuckin shut up aboot them. So caw the fuckin doctor, wid ye. Ye look like a total zombie. Ye’ll be gettin the heebie-jeebies next.

Hey, how ye naw pittin any music oan, Goalie?

Hiv tae admit: he’s really fuckin guid at that, Uli, aye wis, changin the subject afore it ends up in a fight. He’s aye daein that. So ah pit the Stones oan an’ go an’ get a couple ae cans.

Where ur ye lookin, mate? Furra joab, ah mean. Dis it hiv tae be summit in particular? Or kin it be temporary?

Ahm like that: it’s almost as if ah dont care. Mibbe naw oan a buildin site, wi it bein the middle ae winter the noo like. Other than that, ah dont mind.

He’s like that: he kid ask his auld man fur me.

Ah dont know if ah want ye tae. He got me the flat. Any mair ae this an’ yir faither’ll be runnin ma hale fuckin life.

Uli tells me tae shut the fuck up but. His auld man knows folk furra reason. It’s naw as if ah owe him anythin. It’s piss-easy fur him. He’s got contacts. Enjoys brokerin stuff, ah know whit like he is. He likes tae help. Ahv tae think aboot it.

Ahm like that: Okay, Uli, okay. Okay, if ah get a minute, ah’ll think aboot it. An’ if ah need anythin, ah’ll gi’e ye a buzz.

Ah opened the windae tae let some air in an’ asked whit else he’d oan. Hid he the motor wi him? We kid take a run o’er tae Melchnau, see if Edith wis in, play dice furra bit, or summit. She’d be pleased tae see us.

He’s like that: naw, mate, he needed tae be goin, needed tae make sure he got some stuff.

That’s exactly whit ah mean. Whit ahv been sayin the hale time. Ye cannae dae anythin fuckin normal when yir oan them. Cannae jist say: of course, let’s go here, or there, take a bite tae eat wi us, a wee bottle ae rid an’ make an evenin of it, cook summit nice an’ chat a bit, boot the auld days or whitivver, an’ jist be guid tae oorsels. Ye can nivver jist think: cool, it’s fun bein thegither, watchin a film, or playin dice, or pickin up the guitar an’ singin a Bob Dylan or Hannes Wader song, or summit else that makes ye feel that nice sad way. Naw, ye can dae nane ae that cos ye hiv tae chase yir fuckin flash. It’s true. Admit it.

Trip tae Melchnau didnae happen anyhoo.

Ah wis sorry ah spoke. An’ Uli took himsel off.