I'd to take a run over to the City Airport this afternoon as Party Time had sent word that he was coming back from London today and that he wanted me there waiting for him getting off the plane. I reckoned this were him anticipating himself going bananas again, like when he came back that last time loaded and I'd to chase him across a McDonald's carpark when he went after this cripple with a screwdriver. His instructions to me were to inject him with tranquilizers and/or taze him were he to act up. He told me the tranquilizers along with his stungun were in a shoebox under the sofa.
So I stood there waiting for him at the front of the airport, teasing the automatic doors by waving my hand under its sensor, when I begin to feel like a bit of a plonker when I realise I'm in a very risky position here, standing in front of an airport as I am (albeit not a big deal important one) with a concealed stungun and a syringe fulla tranquilizer...they'll take any opportunity to bag a 'terrorist security risk' this security lot...they're such a rare pedestrian species these 'terrorist security risks', bagging one'd be like having the Chupacabra's head on yer wall...
But Party Time arrived on time and clear as a bell...which pleased and relieved me greatly. The only loaded he was was money loaded. It were also a relief he'd the dregs of a London twang which made him easier to understand.
From his back pocket he pulled a roll of notes and handed it to me.
- Here some money. We go fax yer car. Then you drive me a couple places.
- That's the badger! I can get my wheels back again. No sweat Party Time. I'll drive you wherever you wanna go!
On our way back to mine we walked instead of getting the bus so's to catch up in private and not worry about a load of flapping ears taking all in. Party Time told me he'd got all the money he had, 5 grand in all, running methamphetamine for a Mr Big Time by the name of Leno. I can never remember the name of the area in London these people (mostly Filipinos) operate out of. Or maybe its that Party Time strategically leaves that bit out? but Leno, he told me, used to work for some Middle Eastern intelligence agency before he went to London and is very smart. And now he were making loads slinging mostly amphetamine, and being well in with the Met, providing them fall guys, small time hustlers with too much product on their hands – then the cops say they seized x-£'s worth of street drugs...a triumph of the community, and Leno goes about his (bigger) business...it was a move like this Leno tried to pull on Party Time which involved doppelgangers among other things, according to him, (Party Time).
- But ah war too smart for him. Evaded him and the law jast in tam...Thah had anatha Patty Tam thah was slanging loads an war been a good dealer for 'em...so thah war gonna put me an thah frame and say he was me! Leno had has boys fallow me everywhere. Had a boy stand naxt tah me in Toxteth sayin, 'Yuh, I'm standing by him nah, wot yah want me tah do 'en?' But this Patty Tam (prodding his chest with his finger) too smart...plus I look nothing like that other Patty Tam...
Still, it were a riveting story all the same, but some of the stuff he were coming off with on that dander home were suspect, suspect at the very least: the most mendacious load of baloney involving the Filipinos (or Filli's, as he calls em) getting loaded on methamphetamine and being able to communicate telepathically...and their kids, he said, this is how they communicate generally anyway.
- Like wan tam Silvi's (his woman) kid come in our room, after first night of me maikin sam dough far Leno, and the kid say: 'It in his shoe' which's war I had mah cash. I told Silvi bout this. She say: 'He said “Let's go to school,” not, “It's in yer shoe!!”
- Well wouldn't that be more like the thing, Party Time? I think all that Crystal Methamphetamine has probably made you paranoid. - I said, irked & baffled.