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Showing posts from January, 2017

Legend Tripping

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  1. Most of the children of Carlin High School were engaged in the usual playground activities, girl gossiped rapidly sounding like a thousand busy typewriters; youthful first years laughed and chas ed each other around the yard, burning off energy; older kids from the rough end of town hid behi nd the toilets, smoking weed. Steven was sitting alone, perched on the fence like a hawk, watching all the normal mayhem when he spotted Simon Anderson take a nosedive onto the concrete. The boy just went white and dropped, and even though the other kids were making a godawful din, Steven definitely heard Simon’s skull crack like a heavy egg as it smashed onto the ground. The noise was a sickening, hollow sound that made his heart jump in his chest. He immediately jumped off the fence and rushed to see if the older boy was alright. In the seconds it took him to move to where Simon was, there was a large crowd around Simon, some girls were screaming, an older boy was shouting, “Get a tea
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The Night Jogger

According to a manual on fitness that Tam once read, it was best to exercise in cold weather. He had taken that advice to heart early on in his attempts to shed the excess pounds he'd collected when the wanton behaviour of his 20's had become the unhealthy habits of this 30's. He lacked the confidence to go to a gym and the discipline of a strict fitness regime but was motivated to go out at night jogging mainly as a respite from his wife and children who he'd also collected in his late 20's. His route was a couple of miles down the long main road near his house and through the old industrial estate with it's endless stretches of high red brick walls and long abandoned factories. He took some aesthetic pleasure from the area. The empty silent streets, the darkness of the economically dormant estate and the austere functionality of the dated and vandalised architecture seemed to Tam to hold a kind of stark, haunting beauty which he considered satisfyingly
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Glamour Girl

The party was in full swing, all the girls were dancing, some of the boys were too, though most stood propping up the bar and looking at the makeshift dance-floor with that kind of detached amusement guys always have before being dragged onto it by booze, pills or the occasional demanding woman. Kay and I had arrived half an hour before which became the subject of several dirty looks and whispered bitchiness. It was understandable, Kay was hot, gorgeous and wearing a thin tight red dress that left little to the imagination while it clung to her bountiful, perfectly placed curves. She was over six foot in those killer heels she wore and had long, gleaming, straight black hair which was woven into a plat. She looked like a supermodel, like someone who should be in a five star hotel or a luxury yacht. She looked completely out of place amongst all us chain-store frumps that hired out places like the bowling club for our friends birthdays. It was Doreen's night, her thirtieth
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Popular posts from this blog

Ring Bang Skoosh

So what you do is get a 60a bus over to Duke Street from the City Centre. Keep going right along Duke Street until you get past the remaining houses and the industrial park. The bus will eventually take a second right at a large roundabout. You'll not be able to miss it. It's beside another industrial park. You'll want to get off the bus at the next stop and then wait for the 257A. They're not common, one every half an hour (if you're lucky) and only between 8 A.M. and 5.30 P.M. If you've missed it and have to wait you could do worse than Babs Café across the road. Go get something delicious to eat. Don't get me wrong her cuisine is part of the cultural dietary pandemic that's reduced life expectancy in the areas of the east end to that of cavemen, but her deep fried pizza slice on a roll with chips is well worth the fucking risk. Anyway, once you're on the 257A you'll head south east along an empty area for about three quarters of a mil
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Gross Domestic Product: 8

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Chapter Eight. It took the taxi almost half an hour to get through the West-End and up through the north of the city out into Milngavie. Some roadworks at the switchback had left the entire end of the town in one long traffic jam, according to the driver anyway. Pete was not impressed, not one bit. By the time he stepped out he’d stumped up twelve quid and his skin felt like it needed massaged by a crazed acupuncturist. The cold hurt was becoming too real for him to bear but he knew he’d just have to tough it out. He’d con Baird, or failing that, rob the place, get that stupid lamp and then he could relax, shoot up and have a nice long gouch. After that he’d go to Allerdyce and before long have another five grand in his pocket. That would give him nearly ten grand, enough to solve his problems. Enough to propel him out of Glasgow’s moribund gravitational pull once and for all. He just needed to keep it together for another hour or two. The house he stood outside looked
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The Scheme

Nineteen eighty nine, a number, another summer; sound of the funky drummer ubiquitous on the radio. Gordon Harper drummed his fingers against the wheel in time to the tune. It was a nervous staccato, no doubt about that. As he sat parked on Casgairt Road he wondered if he should just bolt. He'd a couple of grand left in his savings, and could be on the next flight to Chilé or Singapore, could be anywhere but here. He threw his cigarette butt out the window and immediately lit another. This was going to be a bad job, that became apparent as soon as Skinny's name was mentioned. When Dunkie mentioned that nutter he should have said “I'm out.” He didn't. No, he didn't want to look like a shitebag in front of the big boys. If he had any real stones he would have told Dunkie to take a fuck to himself. Instead he was sitting with a fucking shotgun under his seat waiting for that nutjob Willie Barr. Total... Fucking... Nightmare! Once more he sucked on th
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