He
walked into the kitchen and was surprised not to see the frying pan on the
stove congealead with bacon fat. Nor was
it in the sink. He searched for minutes
and eventually found it in the cupboard.
Alarm bells were ringing. He
walked down the corridor, it was only then that Bill noticed that it was not
festooned with Hank’s old socks or underwear. He knew that last night Hank was drunk, this
was to be expected, but to not be at home?
Bill thought of all the reasons why he wasn’t. He could have trapped…Bill slapped himself in
the face. Best to have a coffee and
cigarette and think rationally. That
done he peered into his room. A stench
of death invaded his nostrils. All was
well there at least. Then he looked at
the carpet. The fact that he could see
it was a shock in itself. But it was
obvious that the take away wrappers, dirty laundry, empty bottles, and a dead
badger had been shoved to the wall to allow a message, written in red, that said “
“ARSE”. Again no surprise so he returned to the
kitchen and noticed an aubergine for the first time. It was’nt that he
had never seen an aubergine before it was more the circumstance. This aubergine
was firmly ensconced between two buttocks and was not leaving any time soon.
The buttocks were atop the table, again no real surprise nor indeed original.
The head end of the buttocks was female, now this was new and warranted further
investigation. On approaching the head end imagine Bill’s
total surprise to see Harriet chewing a snooker ball and gyrating wildly. Bill
removed the masking tape from her mouth, unbound her ankles and finally removed
the handcuffs. Whilst bending to offer succour he got hit in the face with a
track marked fist. She then rose from the table like some deranged junkie and
ran from the flat screaming.
Life
can sometimes flash by. This was how Bill reconciled himself to what
happened. As he recoiled from the blow
he fell onto the collection of whisky
bottles. It was just instinct, so
he later said, that he spun round and smashed the bottle across her face.
Fuck
is such a lovely word.
“Not unless you are willing to follow up with
action you scrawny shite” Harriet sneered. With that she threw herself upon the
table and spread her legs so wide Bill thought she was going to split. It was
then he noticed the corkscrew, the gift that he had given Hank 2 years ago and
it all made sense. Harriet the lovely middle class filly, the girl who liked
picnics, horses, afternoon tea and all things twee:here she was before him
spread-eagled on the table the clearest picture of depravity imaginable reduced
to a slathering depraved sex craved lunatic. Hank was not far away and Bill
would find him. So he gave Harriet a quick seeing to (quicker than Hank a
dis-spirited Harriet screamed along with do me up the arse you queer cunt, rip
my minge apart and other things Bill would never understand). When he was finished
he left for his bedroom and a shower with her depraved screams still ringing in
his ears….”fudge clam me you knob cheese”.
He
stepped from the shower, sated and satisfied that he knew that Hank was merely
misplaced and not missing. Yet… his
latest piece of skirt was strapped to a table.
So where was Hank? The flat was
clean.. too clean. That is too clean by
their standards. Yes the smell of stale
cigarettes and cheese still pervaded every room. Yes the curtains wriggled when
exposed to sunlight. But the frying pan
was put away. Also ‘Arse’
was written on a clear carpet. Harriet
laid naked on the kitchen table.. yes Bill missed that when he first went into
the kitchen, but to be fair he was looking for the frying pan. But she was still there. Hank would never have left her there. Unrogered at least.. It meant only one thing. Hank had been taken.
Hank
was bent over the pool table groaning. Nothing had prepared him for this but
there it was. All he wanted was a pint. He had done nothing wrong; Harriet had
been given all she wanted (vegetarian option) and he went to the Stoke for a
pint and then it all went wrong. Dave had grabbed him, frog marched him to the
pool table, bent him over and made him……clean up the vomit! Job done he got
down to drinking and had only just started to enjoy his morning when Bill came
in. ”Double Jameson” he called.
Hank
immediately said “ah go on fella”
Bill
walked up to Hank prostrate on the floor, his eyes were bloodshot, and he had a
strange, stale smell about him. Bill was
grateful that he was okay. Hank loved
the beer, that was obvious, but it was out of character to leave a willing
young woman untouched. That said it was
out of character to leave an unwilling women untouched. He looked down at his friend. Hank gazed up, his dried cracked lips forming
a word that his lungs could barely gasp.
He looked pale. This coupled with
the frying pan, the words on a clear carpet and his woman left inflagrante…
what was going on?
He
leaned forward, pressed his ear to Hanks lips to hear his words. Hank gulped, trying to salivate his mouth,
licked his lips. Took a deep breath then
whispered….
“Cunt”
