I was walking up my street early this evening having been down the The Village on the Donegal Road all day buying some acid I were fencing to this cabal of Jewish Hippies that'd come up to Belfast for the day from Tallaght, Dublin.
So I were walking back up my street and this trio of spidelings (i.e. spides/smicks under the age of 10 and a half) were playing in the street, stomping a guinea pig to death, when one of them sticks his nose in the air, this wee Golem lookin fuckin one, and turns and sees me coming, and shoots the evil eye at me while tapping away at his buddy on the shoulder for him to look and see me coming, too.
So they're all, the three of them, alert to my coming, like they'd been waiting for me. They get up off the ground, stop stomping that guinea pig to death, and run over and sit down on the footpath against my front wall. And they begin: harmonising like the Beach Boys, wretched as a Greek Chorus:
- Here, here, c'mon and lick my ballsack, lick my ballsack, lick my ballsack, won't ye please? Here, here, c'mon and hire my Cossack, hire my Cossack, hire my Cossack, they almost work for free!!!
On and on they sang, their crystal annunciations pouring from the faces of choirboys.
Then when I went to go up my path one of em gets up and gets in my way. I try and step round him but he blocks me.
- Here! My mate says ye licked his ballsock? Tha' true?
- Wouldn't lick his ma's gash. Don' like fish, me.
- Hear wha' he's sayin'? - Says the little cunt to his mates. - He's gonna go home and tell his da you licked his ballsock. His da's gonna come roun' here and fuckin' knack you out!
- Well, he knows where I live. Tell him I'll be in all night. And I'll be waiting for him.
- Big talk, Comanche. But he'll fuckin tear ye a new one, -
- Good. I've been meaning to renew mine anyway. So tell him I'll pay him if he likes. Now, for the meantime, get the fuck outta my road!
The child went white and stepped off.
Then I went into my house and dropped some acid.
Then I stuck on the turntable...: