Parly Road: The Glasgow Chronicles 1 (32 page)

Chapter Thirty Nine

  “Gerrup!  Ma ma says if she his tae come through tae ye, it will be wae a high heel shoe in her haun.”

  “Aw, fuck aff, Norma!”

  “Did ye hear that, Ma? Black Boab his jist telt me tae fuck aff,” Norma screamed, aiming that voice ae hers alang the lobby.

  “Norma, did Ah fuck!” Johnboy screamed back, hoping his shout ae innocence wid get tae his ma before Norma’s did.

  “Ma, did ye hear that? He’s jist swore again.”

  Johnboy jumped oot ae bed efter Norma disappeared oot ae his bedroom. He stood stretching, facing the windae, yawning.  He never heard a thing and only noticed the shoe wae the five inch stiletto heel oan it efter it scudded aff the back ae his napper and bounced aff ae the windae frame. It wis wan ae the sorest things he’d ever felt in his entire life.  He reckoned he must’ve been really tired tae hiv let his guard doon…probably wae aw the excitement ae the day before.

  “Aw, Ma, whit wis that fur?” he howled in agony, touching his skull, checking his fingers aboot a dozen times within the space ae five seconds, tae see if there wis any sign ae blood.

  “Ah sent yer sister through tae get ye up, so Ah did. So, if ye swear at her, ye’re swearing at me. So, stoap yer whining and get through here. No the morra or the next day, bit the noo. Hiv Ah made masel clear?”

  “Fucking cunt!” he mumbled under his breath.

  “Whit did ye jist say? Eh?” she demanded, eyes narrowed and wearing the wummin-posessed look that she kept in reserve fur the likes ae him.

  “Ah said that wis some dunt, so it wis.”

  “Whit wis?”

  “That shoe wae the spike stuck oan its heel. Whoever made that should be in the jail. That’s an illegal weapon, so it is. Ye nearly killed me,” he whimpered, touching his freshly laid egg, still finding it hard tae believe that his fingers wurnae covered in blood.

  “Away ye go, ya wee damp cloth, ye. Ah hardly touched ye. Wait until Ah dae gie ye a real crack oan that skull ae yers. Ye’ll
soon
know aw aboot it then.”

  And wae that, she aboot-turned in his da’s slippers and disappeared.

  When Johnboy went intae the kitchen, they wur aw sitting waiting fur him. As well as his ma, Isabelle, Anne and Norma, the icing oan the cake wis sitting there puffing away oan a fag...Betty fae next door. It wis like every boy’s nightmare…aw in the wan room. No only hid he jist been screamed awake by a mad hairy ae a sister, assaulted wae a stiletto shoe oan his napper…which wis still throbbing…by a crazy wummin, bit he’d made the mistake ae arriving oan the scene bare-chested. He tried tae dae an aboot-turn before anywan clocked he wis there, bit he’d left it too late.

  “Aw, there’s ma favourite wee man noo,” Betty cried oot. “C’moan and gie yer Auntie Betty a big wet kiss, Johnboy.”

  Despite the throbbing oan the back ae his nut, he dived intae emergency plan B by attempting tae shuffle towards the sink, jist oot ae Betty’s reach.  Because ae his pain haze, he forgoat that Norma wis sitting oan the chair by the table. Oan route, she gied him a wee push as he slinked by her, and he ended up in the erms ae Betty.

  “Aw, haud oan, Big Boy. Take yer time...we’ve goat aw day,” Betty cackled, tae the merriment ae the others.

  She then grabbed him by the lugs and planted a big wet lipstick kiss oan tae the middle ae his foreheid. He tried tae be calm by no throwing up doon the crack between they paps ae hers, which wur aboot four inches away fae his gub. He’d jist managed tae untangle himsel fae her grip, mumbling “Hello Betty,” and acting as if being oan his ain wae this bunch ae psychos wis like any other normal day, when she struck again, only this time, the pain wis up there wae the stilleto.  The evil witch tweaked that left nipple ae his between her thumb and forefinger.

  “Aw, he’s a right handsome wee stoater, so he is,” Betty cooed, as he felt his nipple being turned like the stoaper on the neck ae an Irn Bru bottle.

  He didnae hiv time tae compare which wis the sorest…the high heel oan the back ae his napper or his nipple being crushed between fingers that hid jist turned intae a pair ae pliers…bit he lost his battle tae stay cool.

  “Yeeowww!” he howled in agony, as he shot o’er tae the safety ae the sink, engulfed by mair cackling laughter fae The Ugly Sisters and the Hard-up Twins.

  “There’s a couple ae slices ae toast sitting there waiting fur ye, Johnboy,” his ma said, no appearing tae gie a toss aboot him and his poor nipple.

  “Aw, here’s another fine man!” Betty let oot, when Johnboy’s da walked in, bare-chested and in his bare feet as well.

  “Aye, hellorerr Betty. Ah hope aw youse lassies hivnae been upsetting ma wee boy noo. It sounded as if a cat hid been stood oan a minute ago,” he said, gieing Johnboy a wink.

  “Ach, ye know us girls, Jimmy. We’re jist hivving a wee laugh and a chatter amongst wursels. Is that no right, girls?”

  “Oh aye,” they aw chirped, like a bunch ae demented geese.

  “Whit ur ye up tae the day, Johnboy?” his da asked, yawning and reaching fur a slice ae Johnboy’s toast.

  “Fleeing the doos.”

  “Fleeing the doos?”

  “Aye, me and ma pals hiv goat oorsels a dookit.”

  “Dae ye hear that, girls? We’ve goat a doo man in the hoose noo.”

  “Well, keep them oot ae here. Ah don’t want ma hoose full ae lice. There’s enough ae them in here awready withoot him adding tae them,” Ma said tae the witches, who aw cackled.

  “That sounds really good, Johnboy. Ah’ve never been intae them masel. Ah cannae see the attraction, bit you go fur it. Anything Ah kin dae tae help ye, jist gie’s a shout.  Okay?”

  “Aye, thanks, Da.”

  “Oh, that reminds me. Flypast his been trying tae get a haud ae ye fur the past few days noo,” Ma said, lighting up a fag efter tossing wan across tae Betty.

  “When?”

  “The past couple ae days...something aboot yer dookit. He says ye’ve tae gie him a shout.”

  “Right, Ah’m aff then.”

  “Where tae?” Ma demanded, looking o’er at his da, who wis avoiding her eyes.

  “Tae flee the doos,” Johnboy mumbled, shooting oot ae the room.

  He grabbed his jumper fae the bedroom before taking aff doon the stairs, three at a time, pulling oan his jumper oan the way.  His left tit felt as if somewan hid taken a blowtorch tae it. Every time he jumped three mair stairs, his jumper moved up and doon and the sizzling started up again. That bloody Betty, he thought tae himsel.

  Johnboy heided roond tae Flypast’s dookit bit he wisnae there. He nipped up and knocked oan Flypast’s door and his auld maw said he wis aff tae see some boys aboot a dookit.

  It wis a shite day aw roond when he looked back oan it. First, he’d been scudded wae a high heel oan the back ae his napper fur lying too long in his bed, no harming anywan.  Then a mad wummin hid squashed his left nipple between her fat fingers and turned it intae a swollen sultana fur nae reason other than tae get his attention while she telt him how handsome he looked.  This hid forced him intae daeing an impression ae Tom fae a Tom and Jerry cartoon, in front ae the evilest bunch ae wummin this side ae Parly Road. Then, tae tap it aw aff, he goat lifted by the polis oan McAslin Street.

  The bizzy must’ve been a good driver. Johnboy heard the wheels screech and before he knew whit wis happening, the polis car swerved right in front ae him and came tae a complete stoap against the metal shuttered door ae the wee factory across fae the wummin painter’s close oan McAslin Street. The fact that the shutter door wis set back aboot eighteen inches fae the ootside wall meant he couldnae nip roond the front ae the car withoot being nabbed by the driver or the other wan in the passenger seat.  He’d the choice ae either skipping o’er the bonnet or turning roond and running back the way he’d come, which wis whit he decided tae dae.  The passenger bizzy sussed that wan oot, and threw open his door, which hit Johnboy full oan and bounced him back, clattering the back ae his awready sore heid oan tae the metal shuttered door which rippled like wan ae they dancers’ bellies oot ae the ‘Sinbad’ films.

  “Goat ye, ya wee shitehoose, ye!” a voice snarled, as Johnboy felt himsel being lifted up by the scruff ae his jumper, his nipple feeling as if somewan wis rubbing a bit ae sandpaper o’er it.

  His scream ae pain wis like something oot ae a Hammer Hoose ae Horror film and he wis immediately drapped back oan tae the deck, writhing in agony.

  “Ah never touched the wee prick…honest,” he heard a voice plead.

  “Never mind that, Jack.  Sling him in the back seat before anywan clocks us.”

   And wae that, he wis shipped aff doon tae the Central polis station in the Saltmarket.  When he arrived, they took his name, address and age before leading him intae a cell. Tony, Skull and Joe wur awready sitting there, facing the door, like three monkeys in a cage. Tony put his finger up tae his lips as Johnboy went o’er and sat doon at the far end, watching his partners in crime. Johnboy looked aroond.  Tony wis sitting wae his knees drawn up and his heid resting face doon oan his erms, Joe wis lying flat oot oan his back wae his eyes shut and Skull wis pacing roond and roond like wan ae his doos. The cell wis made ae white brick tiles and there wis a shape ae a mattress made ae concrete in a corner and a windae way up oan tap that let a wee bit ae light in. A bare bulb shone intae the cell through a hole in the wall, high above the door and there wis a cludgie sitting in the corner that hid a constant dribble ae water running doon intae the bowl. Johnboy couldnae figure oot how ye wur meant tae flush it. Nowan spoke fur aboot five minutes, which must’ve been a world record fur Joe and Skull.

  “Fuck this!” Skull suddenly announced, his voice echoing as he kicked aff his fitba boots, exposing three dirty pink toes sticking oot ae wan sock and his big toe oot ae a hole in the other. “Anywan fur a game ae keepy-up?”

  Efter rolling his socks intae a baw, he started tae play keepy-up wae his new fitba. He started aff wae three keepy-ups and then increased it till he managed fourteen before it landed oan the deck. Before long, everywan hid taken their socks aff so that they ended up wae a decent sized fitba. They played two a-side, then penalties, using the door as the goal and then the four ae them played keepy-up. Whichever ae them drapped it hid tae dae five press-ups as a penalty.

  Efter aboot four hours, the bizzies started taking them oot, wan at a time, until there wis jist Johnboy left, sitting oan his tod. When his turn came, he wis led intae a room wae The Sarge and Crisscross.

  “Right, ya wee cretin, ye. Where’s ma wife’s money?”

  “Ah dunno.”

  “Who shat in ma good hat, eh?”

  “Dunno.”

  “Who wiped their arse oan ma good sheet then?”

  “Dunno.”

  “Dae ye know that poor wee African weans ur gonnae no hiv a meal the night because ae the likes ae you?”

  Silence.

  “They poor wee African weans won’t be able tae afford shoes tae go tae school because ae you. Whit hiv ye tae say tae that, eh?”

  Silence.

  “Tell us whit ye’ve been up tae and we’ll let ye aff Scot-free.”

  Silence.

  “Look, we know everything that ye’ve been up tae aw summer. We know aboot screwing aw the shoaps in the Toonheid and we know it wis youse who tanned aw the electrical shoaps and nicked their trannys.”

  Silence.

  “C’moan, Johnboy, we know ye done it. It’ll be better fur ye in the long run if ye tell us the truth.”

  Silence.

  “Look, we’ve goat yer fingerprints fae oot ae ma hoose. They wur aw o’er ma wardrobe doors, so they wur.”

  Silence, bit wae a wee glance at Crisscross.

  “Aye, that’s right, Johnboy. Ye’re done, bang tae rights oan this wan, so ye ur.”

  “We took yer prints aff the station coonter when ye came in. So, there’s nae argument. Ye’ll be in The Grove the morra, getting yer arse felt…or worse, if ye don’t own up, right this minute!”

   The baith ae them didnae take their eyes aff ae him.  He could feel their penetrating gaze drilling through him. Well, if Johnboy wis being honest, he couldnae actually be sure aboot Crisscross, bit he certainly wisnae mistaken aboot the sergeant. He eventually put up his haun. The look ae triumph oan the bizzies’ faces when they glanced at each other made Johnboy feel a wee bit guilty, bit he didnae hiv any choice.

  “Aye, whit dae ye want tae say, son?” The Sarge asked kindly, wee black notebook in haun and pencil at the ready.

  “Please, sir, Ah need a shite.”

  “Aw, fur fuck’s sake! Ur ye taking the pish oot ae us, eh? Answer me,” Crisscross bawled at him.

  “Why did ye no go before we brought ye in here, eh?”

  “There’s a fucking cludgie in the cell. Why did ye no use it when ye hid a chance, eh?”

  “There wis nae toilet paper.”

  “Fuck this. Get him oot ae here, Crisscross, before Ah end up in the chokey masel.”

  Crisscross frog-marched Johnboy back tae the corridor where the cells wur. He slung him in wan that wis sitting there empty, wae its door open.