Good Boozers

(a short story)

     As I wipe the crust from my eye's, I look over at the clock and see it's just before half-four in the afternoon. I climb out of bed and take my jacket off. My heads burst. My phone goes off and as it does I realise Im supposed to be down the pub. Sure enough, it's wee Tommy asking where I am. I put my jacket back on, brush my teeth and head round to 'The Captains Rest'. It's a good wee boozer with all the features any good boozer should have: drunk auld folks, a barman that knows your name and a venue down stairs that puts on mad nights that don't suit the place; mad brake-core and the likes.

     As I walk in, wee Tommy smiles over and holds up a whisky. He hands it to us as the barman tilts his head back.

"Boab?" He says.

I nod. I cant remember his name. Folk just call me Boab because Im some size. Two polis come in, throwing us a growl as they walk past, heading towards the kitchen. They're wearing pushbike helmets. I clock wee Tommy's fizzer with don't-growl-at-us mischief written all over it. 'Here we go' I think to myself. Wee Tommy sees my look of despair and just laughs. He knows I know exactly what he's thinking. I reach into my pocket, fumble through some money, then hand him a score.

"That should be about halfers?" I half ask, half demand. I've just got here, my head still hurts from last night and he's already up to no good. He hasn't even said hello. The first words out his mouth are 'Outside in two?'

I laugh and shake my head in mock disappointed agreement. Two minutes later, I've necked my drink and I walk outside. I spark a fag and look up to see wee Tommy running back across Great Western Road holding a big plastic bag. I stand in the way of the CCTV and keep edgy while wee Tommy picks up the polis bikes, which someone else has already kicked over, then pulls a massive motorbike padlock out the bag, chains the two bikes to each other and the nearby lamppost, then we just walk across the road into The Winter Gills where we wait for our coppers to look like tubes, knowing they're being watched.

"What d'ye think then?" I ask.

"They'll call it in as they walk over to the bike shop, lookin' fuckin' stupid as they do."

Sure enough, wee Tam, as usual, knows the score. Exactly as he said. We piss ourselves laughing, having a quick whisky as we watch them scunner over to the bike shop, then we head off to Oscar Slater's before they get back.

     Oscar Slater's is a cracking boozer, but it's a bit hairy. Tommy gets in a couple more whisky's then it's on to pints and it's my round again. Wee Tommy's sat down talking to some auld boy and Im standing at the bar with my back to the side door, when suddenly somebody crashes into me, screeming, gives me the fright of my life, burying a fucking axe in the bar, demanding all the cash, wereing a balaclava. The barman's shiting it. So am I if am perfectly honest but the barman's fumbeling about all over the shop, bricking it. This nutter starts going pure Radio Rental, threating to chop folk up, reaching over to grab the barman, but when he goes to grab his axe out the bar, the fucking thing's stuck! I just take one step forward and crack him with my left and he goes flying back into the doorframe, totally sparked. Immediately all these Old-Grey-Whistle-Test types are on him. They've all got their belts off, tying him up, belting his hands up behind his back, his feet together, then another belt holding the two belts together. These auld boys must've done this before, it's impressive. Everyone starts singing my praises and offering to buy me and wee Tommy drinks but we explain we're not wanting to deal with any pigs so we can only stay for one.

     We have our drink, laughing at this clown on the ground who now, with his balaclava off, shiting himself, just looks like some harmless dirty, dying, junkie fuck. Wee Tommy's making me out a hero but we both know he'd have cracked the guy before the axe was even out the game. Tommy's a tiny guy but he doesn't fuck about.

     We head round to Nice 'n' Sleazy after that. It's not a proper boozer, there's never any jakes cutting about, everyone's got a hair-do like they're all at art school and plan to just hand themselves in at the end a term. A pub full of Ziggy Stardust's. It's an OK boozer, but. The staff are mostly sound, even the fucking bouncers are alright, and that's saying something. As we're walking in I tell Tommy I hope this wee birds working.

"Who, fuckin' Zebidee?"

"Naw man, no Zebidee. The wee gypsy girl."

"You still obsessed wi' her man? Why don't ye just ask her out?"

"Fuck off, Tam. Then we'd no' be fuckin' back again. This is a guid boozer but it's no' the place ye fall about steemin', askin' out the staff. Behave yersell. Fuckin' Zebidee, but?"

"Aye, but she's a nice lassie, man. She's always got a smile."
"Aye, she has, hasn't she? Always says hello when we see her out jumpin' about like a broken pogo stick, right out her gums, wired to a fuckin' dynamo. Pure wham bar, man. Lovely girl, but."

It's still my round so I try and work it so the wee gypsy serves me. Perfect timing. Every time she serves me I try and talk proper so she doesn't think Im a pure mad hairy.

"Hiya, what can i get you?" 

"Hello there, can I just have two pints of Guinness please?"

"Regular or extra cold?"

"Just regular, thanks." She's fucking lovely man, pure wee darling. She just skulks about behind the bar looking dead self conscious, not realising how lovely she is. Long black hair with curls in, and sometimes she wears specks. She's got a tooth missing at the front left of her smile and pure lovely big lips.

     We get our pints then turn to the pool table and stick our names down. We're not waiting long before we win the table. More pints and plenty of pool. We're both pretty handy with a cue so we get rid of any challengers with ease. Daft students, man, can't play the game at all. At least that's what I thought til this wee darling dressed up in a rainbow comes along and gubbs us both. Nice girl, dressed like a clown the same as wee Zebidee but not quite as mental. We get her and her mate a drink and have a laugh with them for a while then we politely leave them to it and head off to The Variety.

     The Variety's kind of an unofficial Celtic pub, it's full a auld yin's during the day and a similar crowd as Sleazies at night. Our mate Mark's got a thing for one a the barmaids in here so we think we might see him but we don't.

"I'll phone him before we head out, see what he's up to." I say.

"There was football on the day, man. He'll be out the east end, steamin', then off to one of his wee sisters pals for his hole, later. Fuckin' tart, man!"

"Wind it in Tommy man, he's no that bad."

"Aye he is, man. He's all doom, gloom an' broken heart one minute, then flingin' it up anythin' it'll fit in the next. Fuckin' chancer." Tommy says, laughing.

"Right enough." I have to agree.

Im back up at the bar when I get a tap on the shoulder. I turn around and it's the wee bird from the pool table, the one wearing the rainbow. I cant remember her name, but.

"I'll get these, what are you having?" She asks.

"Guinness, cheers."

"The same for Tommy?"

"Aye, cheers."

We're all getting chatting again; both myself and wee Tommy are on form as usual. The girls are laughing thier tits off and somewhere amongst the drunken stories - which are so fucked they must seem made up - we realise we're all heading to The Admiral after for Kaput! We all relax and just enjoy each others company, until it occurs to me that this cute wee thing might fancy us. Why the fuck would she be into me? I haven't eaten anything today and we were shit-faced last night so maybe it's just me being steaming. Im not sure, but now everytime I open my mouth another problem seems to fall out. No-one notices, least of all her. Why the fuck do I get so nervous when I think I might pull? Wee Tommy's here to keep them laughing, thank fuck, then we're off out. The girls jump into the shop next door for fags, so me and Tommy are just waiting. I chin him about there names but he just laughs, shrugs and says to keep our ears open.

We're just watching the madness of Sauchihall Street fall all over its self, when Tommy's phone goes off. He walks out into the depth of the pavement as he answers, looking at his feet. I just space out for a wee bit until I notice some dick in Tommy's face. This should be a laugh.

"What mate? Hold on a wee second, I'll phone you back… alright, cool, I'll see you in there." Then he looks this headbanger straight in the eye and starts laughing. "Naw, you give me money."

I notice the wee tadger's got a lock-back in his hand, so I step out behind him as Tommy walks forward, kind of ushering him back.

"I said, you give me money." Tommy repeats.

The wee prick accidently steps back onto my toes, and as he does I reach round and take the blade out his hand.

"Your fuckin' tee's oot, wee man." I say down into the top of his head, thouroghly enjoying my 'Jake McQuillan' moment. Tommy grabs him by the throat.

"Empty yer fuckin' pockets ya fuckin' heeder! Right fuckin' now!"

The wee prick pulls an old phone and a clatty wee Velcro wallet out his pockets and hands them over, then Tommy rags him off down the street the other way from where we're going, kicking him up the arse as he does. The wee prick looks back to check the size of me and gets a fright for his trouble. Me and Tommy turn and laugh.

"That was Mark on the phone, he'll get us in there." Tommy says, as I give him the wee guys blade. He sticks everything in his pocket just as the girls spill out the shop.

"We off then?" The rainbow girl asks, unwrapping her fags.

"Aye, taxi down here." Tommy points.

We cross the road and just as we get to the other side Tommy bends down, pretending to do his laces and drops everything the wee prick had down a stank.

"Did ye even check that?" I ask, stupidly.

"Did I fuck, man, sort it out." We jump into a taxi and sit down. The cute wee rainbow girl sits on my knee. I put my hand on her hip and suddenly go quite quiet. Thank fuck for Tommy's patter.

     We get to The Admiral which is another unofficial Celtic pub, and have a few drinks upstairs before the downstairs doors open. I drink harder at first, trying to get my nerves sorted. She catches me, I think, because she gives me look I translate as 'relax, I wont bite'. Maybe Im just para. Either way it's daft, Im massive and Im scared of a wee lassie.

     By the time we get down stairs Im doing better. We're all fucked, up doin' some dreadful dancing. All the Sleazies staff are in except the wee gypsy. Zebidees jumping about like a loon. She says hello to us, nice lassie. Tommy tells me Mark's just sent him a text, he's not coming out, he's off to his wee sister's mate's gaffs for his hole, right enough.

     Tommy and the wee rainbow's pal are up at the bar and we're sat down talking about tunes and gigs when she plants one on me. I can't believe my luck as she's whispering in my ear.

"So will you keep me warm tonight, then?"

Fuck me sideways! Don't panic! Keep it together, man. I smile and give her a wee kiss and ask her if she'd like that. She nods and cuddles in.

     It doesn't seem like long before we're in the taxi again and Im asking her where Tommy and her mate are, but she tells me not to worry about them and how they're doing OK. We head for hers, thank fuck because mine's a fucking health hazard this weather. We're listening to tunes and having a wee kiss and a cuddle when she asks if I'd mind jumping in a quick shower. My heart fucking stops. She can probably hear my paranoia buzzing from there.

"Eh... no, yeah, sure." I say, my voice trembling.

"And is it OK if I come with you?"

Fucking trout! I smile and she bursts out laughing. Next thing I know we're in the shower and Im just worried Im going to hurt her because she's half my size. I don't hurt her. It's just amazing. How did I get this lucky? She's fucking perfect, her tits are fucking perfect. This image would be one a the most beautiful in the history of the world if I wasn't in it. She's up on the balls of her feet with her back arched, her hands on the tiles and she's screaming her lungs out. After fuck-knows how long we're just standing under the shower and she's cuddling in with her face buried into my chest, or at least the top of my belly. My cock's hanging down and knocking inbetween her thighs. Im still a bit raging about how the cheeky cow asked me to come for a shower so I piss on her legs.

     About ten minutes later she tells me she's got to be up in a few hours. So much for keeping her warm, what was that about? I get dressed and she watches, fuck knows why. She gets me to the door and asks me if Im going to ask her for her number.

"Oh, aye, of coarse." I take my phone out and she takes it off me and sticks her number in then rings herself.

"I've got yours now. So, will I meet you before the Errors gig or shall I just get you there?"

"Aw, right, well I guess I'll phone you and then we'll sort something out." I'd totally forgotten we'd talked about that.

"I'll look forward to it." She tells me. Maybe I shouldn't have pissed on her legs. "I had a really good time tonight, Boab, thanks."

"Me too, I'll eh, I'll phone you... well, when's the best time?" I ask, nervously.

"When ever you like, the sooner the better, though." She says smiling. I give her a kiss and leave. I check my dialled numbers straight away, she must've typed it in herself just to save me the brasser of asking her name again. Jane, how did I forget that? I head home and on the way I text wee Tommy to see if he got home safe. He replies straight away. He's shocked, too. Jane's mate he pulled, Molly, she had him tied up. I honestly cant fucking wait til next weekend.

The End

 Copyright Roddy Smith 2015.