You'll See: That Someone Who Really Cares Is Me

This morning I went round to the local newsagents and bought an Easter Egg for my brekkie. It was one of those teensy child’s sized ones, no bigger than one of Boke the Cat’s shites, so I was a little shocked and surprised to discover these newsagent gangsters were charging £2.99 for it.
- Eat an ovary, ya cunt, - I went and walked out.

My plan had been to break the egg up in a breakfast bowl, marinade with Rice Krispies, add milk, and put in the microwave for 30 seconds. £2.99 put the kibosh on that one.

So I put some of Boke the Cat’s Rabbit & Gravy Wiskas in a sandwich and put it in the toastie maker. It weren’t too bad, but I felt a little guilty after realising I’d ate for my brekkie what were meant to be for Boke’s dinner, and now there were no more Rabbit & Gravy Wiskas left…

So later on that afternoon me and Party Time took a bus out to one of the big forests on the outer reaches of the ‘General Belfast Area’ to go hunting for wildlife. Party Time carried his pellet gun in a sportsbag. It happened that I got a big dose of the heebie-jeebies, picturing a squad of pigs out doing they’re thing and seeing us with that rifle of his. I thought, my brain chattering like teeth in the cold - In light of recent blowings-up by some Provo tribute band I know the pigs’ will have their instincts honed and their safeties off…They see a brute like Party Time running round with a rifle they’re gonna shoot us down dead.

When we got far enough into the forest, further than most go anyway, Party Time took the rifle from his sportsbag, theatrically buffed the barrel with a cloth and checked the sights. Due to my pig-paranoia I told him I’d hang back about 10 foot or so to act as a spotter, but really so's to have space and time to duck or leg-it if a jittery pig were lurking and bullets started to fly.

It turned out to be a productive day. Party Time bagged two squirrels and got a badger right through the brain. The badger we would have in a stew and the squirrels we would feed to Boke the Cat. At one point Party Time had a lovely big old cuckoo lined up in his sights and an odd thing happened. The cuckoo started to sing, and Party Time lowered the rifle, put it back in his sportsbag and said:

- Thot ees enuf killan far taday. It was like that part in the Deer Hunter, when De Niro can’t shoot the deer as his ordeal in ‘Nam has made him a better person. Or something.

We walked though the rain for the rest of the way back, and as Party Time was on a killing high I decided to ask after the whereabouts of Kimba.
- What’d you do with her? – I asked.

- Ah hove sat har frah, Danna. Sha nah yers nah langa! Ah’ve san sam harra shaws an mah day Danna. Thang’s ah wall nat dwoll an. Bat Danna, wath thah evol ah’ve san ah nid ah lattle luvin lite tah shan thru, yah know? – The rain ran off his soft thin hair like a gentle stream moves over reeds. – So ah parfarmed ahn oct aff lav ahn yer beeholf, cas’, cos wah bath nid sam gadnass pat back an are speerts, Danna! Ah laughed har weeth than Halacast Spide. He as thah wan shah whand nah, Danna! –

The rain ran down his Meth pocked and concave face, but it were tears more that ran down mine…