Pedro Lenz - Naw Much of a Talker

Noo an’ then, aye.

Ahm worried aboot him, ye see.

Really?

He’s changed. An’ ahv the feelin it’s gettin worse. He’s hardly any friends any mair an’ only contacts us when he’s needin money. Recently but, he’s naw been lookin fur money even.

Hmm.

It wid be guid if ivry noo an’ again ye kid go oot wi him or summit. Faur as ah know, you an’ Marta ur the only friends he his left. Why dont ye arrange summit. Dae him guid, it wid.

Ah’ll see. Thanks again fur the joab.

Ah dont fuckin get him, Uli’s faither. Seems tae think ahd be guid company fur his fucked-up boy — an’ he’s serious an’ aw. Okay, compared tae the bunch ae milkboys he hings aroon wi the rest ae the time, ahm mibbe naw sae bad. Aw jist a matter o perspective. Fuckit.

It’s true we grew up thegither, Uli an’ me. Lochfeld Primary, the wee ones. The pit o’er in Hüseli. Hofwald. The moon landin. Then the Seventies. An auld record player doon in the basement. At first, fur LP’s wi fairytales oan them. Soon enough, fur rock ‘n’ roll. Status Quo. Then the Hendrix an’ Joplin stuff the boy next door’s big brother brought back fae Zurich. A few posters: pictures ae part-time rockers wi long hair. An’ a gallery full ae the gods ae black ‘n’ white telly. David Cassidy, Günter Netzer an’ the 1974 World Cup when he wis jist a sub, Netzer. Uli wis aye the captain when we played fitba against the Itais fae the gasworks. Course, ye wurnae supposed tae say Itai, we said it but anyhow when we wur oan oor tod. Ah wis scared ae a few ae them cos they’d bum-fluff oan their faces awready an’ kid look at ye dead serious. Ah kidnae hiv said it at the time, ah felt but: it wis as if they despised us cos we’d hardly ivver tae fight fur fuck-aw. Cos we wur Swiss, so: spoilt an’ weak-as-fuck. An’ anyhoo, the Itais spoke Italian tae each ither an’ ye nivver knew whit they wur oan aboot. It wisnae always easy, as ah say. Whenivver we played fitba but, ah forgot tae be afraid. A gemme’s a gemme. Nae cunt needs tae shite himsel.

So okay. Ahm thinkin aboot it. Thinkin aboot oor childhood an’ thinkin aboot oor young days an’ ah dont stop thinkin. Me an’ Uli, played fitba thegither, grew up thegither, started smokin thegither, experimented, started the drugs thegither. Okay. Right. Ah think aboot it a bit mair an’ there’s wan thing ahm sure aboot: nane ae yir fuckin crap, Goalie, pull yirsel thegither, noo’s naw the time fur the wrong mistake. Run yirsel a hot bath, read a book, smoke a cigarette, make a cuppa, do whitivver ye want, jist nane ae yir fuckin crap.

Know whit, the fuckin stuff kin be ootae yir system long since — physically, ah mean — but it’s still up in yir nut but still, it’s aye in yir nut.

Be that as it may. Ah go tae the print shop, tae Maag’s, an’ say at Reception ahv heard they’re lookin fur someone tae dae the deliveries. The woman at Reception tells me tae wait. Ah wait. Wan ae they guys comes oot, aboot fifty or summit, someone ahv nivver seen before, doubt he’s fae here. Looks a bit like a lower-doon boss, naw a big-big boss anyhoo, mair like wan fae hawf-way up, cos ae whit he’s wearin, cheap shirt, cheap tie an’ stuff, aw a bit pseudo. Looks like his wife picks stuff ootae her stupit catalogue fur him — ivry couple ae years.

His name’s such-an’-such an’ ahv tae take a seat. Sayin that, ahd awready parked ma arse. Mibbe he wis bein ironic. Cos ah hidnae stood up when he held his haun oot.

Ah introduced masel, said Uli’s faither hid tellt me etc etc.

Looks at me, he dis, asks hiv ah any references. Course: ah hivnae, naw tae haun over there an’ then anyhoo. Tellt him he kid caw Mr Sutter, Uli’s faither. Wis him gave me the nod.

Wis ah unemployed at the moment?

At the minute, aye. Ah hidnae been fur long but.

Hid ah a valid drivin license?

Course, aye. — An’ ah put ma papers oan the table.

Hid ah ivver done deliveries afore?

Course ah hid. A holiday joab, it wis. Furra textile place. Mair than once. Ah knew whit the score wis, pretty much.

Good, he says, ivrythin in order fae his point-of-view, start on Monday, five ay-em oan the dot. An’ dont forget tae bring proof ae a pension scheme etc. The first day someone wid go oot wi me, that wey ye get tae know wan anither. He’d show me how things ur done. Eftir that, ah wis on ma tod.

An’ whit’ll ma salary be? ah asked.

He hesitated furra minute an’ ah kid see he hidnae gi’en it any thought. Then he rummaged aroon in his papers a bit an’ then, eftir a few seconds, went: such an’ such an amount per hour. Overtime wid be 25 percent mair. An’ aye, cos ye startit so early, ye kid knock off at hawf wan an’ still hiv the good ae the eftirnoon. That wis wan ae the advantages: hivin the hale eftirnoon, nearly, aff. Specially fur someone who done a loatae sport, fur instance. Did ah dae a loatae sport?

Jist a bit, mair like.

That wis a pity cos sport wis guid fur exercise, an’ naw jist physically. He himsel hid always done exercise, aw his life. An’ he kid assure me the exercise hid done him a loatae good, really a loat.

Ah goes like that: Great, ah’ll be seein ye then.

He says nuthin an’ jist nods.

An’ that wis it.

Ahd nivver hiv thought it wid be so quick. Noo ahv this joab. Noo ahv nae excuse any mair. If it goes pear-shaped this time, ahv nae cunt but masel tae blame.

So: aff tae Cobbles. Tae pay Regula her fifty back.

Then ah want tae go tae the pictures in Olten. Oan ma tod. Ah want peace like. Ahv done enough fuckin talkin.

Sutter senior, Uli’s faither, is some kinda procurator or summit. Nice enough guy, in his ain way like. Served oan the local cooncil in his day, or in some commission or ither. He’s wan ae the auld guard anyhow, type ae guy who still believes in goodness. In evil, even. It’s aw wan at the end ae the day but eh.

Ah mean whit ah say: Sutter’s an okay guy. Least he dis summit, gets fuckin involved. Course, ah didnae think like that when we wur still boys still. Back then, aw ah noticed wis: the Sutters hid a better place than oors an’ a far better motor. The Sutters hid a bright-rid Lancia GT an’ we’d a totally fuckin embarrassin Opel Kadett. Ivry cunt kid see Uli hid mair than me. A leather baw. A pair ae they Adidas Rome trainers that cost sixty fuckin francs even in they days. An’ fitba boots wi studs, an’ spikes fur runnin in so ye didnae slip oan the cinder track, cos ye wur nivver goney find a tartan track aroon here back in they days, wur ye. An’ Atomic skis wi Salomom bindings an’ ski stoppers when we still only hid they stupit ski lashes. An’ so on, an’ so on. Aw ye heard in oor hoose wis: it wisnae the fuckin brand name that coonted, an’ whether ye wur guid at sport or wurnae depended oan you yirsel an’ naw yir equipment, an’ the Sutters wur the Sutters an’ we wur us. An’ ye should be bloody grateful tae hiv skis at aw cos there wur other weans who hid absolutely fuck-aw but wur happy anyhow. Ah kidda cried an’ screamed ivry time ahd tae listen tae ma maw an’ ma faither harpin oan like that. The same auld same auld.

It wis mibbe aw true but that didnae intrist me but, furfucksake. The wan thing that wis clear tae me wis: there ah wis, staunin in the centre circle like a fuckin eejit, the last ae the mohicans, the last fuckin mohican fae total-eejit-land. Ah wis the last fuckin eejit still wearin canvas pumps. Totally-worn-oot, totally-ugly, totally-sad canvas pumps, designed fur total-eejits. Back in fashion noo, mibbe, that wis nae guid tae me back then but. Fur that reason an’ that reason alane, ah got intae the habit ae takin charge. As long as ah wis boss, ah thought, nae cunt wid hiv a go at ma fuckin fitwear.