Thursday, 8 December 2011

#14 Archie McKaig and Stan Fletcher

Stan: The swastikas? Yeah, we’re both pretty embarrassed about those. We were young when we got them. Young and stupid.

Archie: Aye, an’ noo yer auld an’ stupit!

Stan: Shut it Archie you complete cunt! Always being a cunt int ya? What kind of partner is that? All your working life going around with a pisstaking cunt. Maybe I deserve it.

Archie: Ye deserve cockrot. Fae aw the poofin’ ye dae. Poofin’ wi men. Men’s bums.

Stan: I think they get it. Now why don’t you fuck off in the back where you’ll be more useful? Anyway. No, I don’t believe in all that now. Archie neither. Live and let live is what we say. I mean look at me. Look at my face. The scraps I got into over such a lot of silly shit. When I remember that time of my life it’s like I’m looking back at another person. I remember feeling the pain, the anger, the incredible hurt. But I can’t actually feel it anymore. Like that part of me is spent. It sometimes feels like I can only see my past warped, like I’m looking at it through an old glass bottle, all askew and comical. But being honest what I really feel is bereaved. That kid, that silly kid who used to be me is dead now and he was a cunt, a stupid cunt who did horrible things and said horrible things but he was me, y’know? Me. And he’s gone. I’ve been robbed of him. Mugged myself out of those years. But those feelings pass and you just get on with it eh? Let’s just say ecstasy came along at just the right time for me. Thank fuck for it.

Archie: Fuckin' lassie’s drug that…

Stan: Did I not just tell you to fuck off? What? Yeah we looked into having them removed but it was too expensive. We need all the cash we can put our hand to for the business. You’d think starting up a florists would be easy but it’s a lot harder when you’ve got a thick, ugly Scottish tool holding you back.

Archie: Ah fuck you ya clown. He kids on he disnae love me. But he dis. He fuckin' loves me.

Stan: Steady.

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