Free Naw Much of a Talker by Pedro Lenz

holiday brochures – beach, water, sun, water, beach – an’ at that, ah doze
off.

11
    Did ye hear Eso Stofer his inherited a hoose doon in Spain? His uncle died, apparently, an’ left the hoose tae him.
    Uli’s still oan wan ae they drips. Least the colour in his face is back a bit.
    Aye, he says, ah know.
    Eh? Ye knew? Ye knew he’s inherited a hoose oan the Atlantic an’ ye didnae tell me? Whit’s wrang wi ye, mate? How come ye didnae tell me?
    He tellt me when ye wur in the nick, ah think. Ahd forgot again, practically, in the meantime. If ahd minded, ahd definately hiv tellt ye.
    Fuckit, Uli, ye shoulda tellt me right away. We’ll need tae go. That’s where oor next holiday’ll be. Think aboot it: Spain, the sea, the sea wind. The cured ham they hiv doon
there, an’ then the dry sherry an’ the grilled sardines an’ aw they things pit thegither!
    He didnae want tae think aboot things like that right noo. Leavin aside the fact he didnae know hoo much longer he’d be in here.
    So ye knew Eso Stofer hid an uncle in Spain? Ah cannae mind him ivver mentionin him.
    Naw, ah think ah did know that, aye, somehoo. Pesche mentioned it wance, ah think. Ah cannae mind right.
    Which Pesche? The Cobbles yin?
    Aye, exactly: him! Or mibbe it wis some ither cunt, ah dont know any mair. Stop askin sae many questions, Goalie. Ahv a buzzin noise in ma heid an’ it’s naw goney get any better if
ah keep hivin tae answer questions, is it.
    It’s as if Uli’s pretendin he’s naw intristit in aw this. It disnae exactly surprise me. He’s behavin a bit like Regula recently when ah phoned tae ask whit the story wis
wi the stuff they found in the toilet at Cobbles. Regi spoke an’ aw like someone who’s talkin wi’oot really focusin oan whit they’re sayin, who’s thinkin ae whit kid
happen next as they’re talkin.
    Away tae fuck, Uli! A hoose ae yir ain at the seaside! Ah hope he disnae go an’ dae summit stupit wi it. Ye kid imagine Stofer daein anythin, jist aboot. He kid hiv the idea suddenly tae
set up a Soul Centre wi joss sticks an’ a Reincarnation Library, the works. He’s capable ae haunin the hoose o’er tae a guru or some kinda movement. Ahd nivver hiv thought it,
this hale hoose thing is makin me nervous but.
    Dont make such a big thing ae it, Goalie. Mibbe the hoose is nuthin but a ruin nae cunt kid ivver live in. Ye know whit wee Stofer’s like.
    Exactly, ah know whit like he is. Know almost too well. By the way, Uli, whit d’ye think: if ah open the windae a bit, kid we mibbe hiv a quick fag in here? Worst they kin dae is
complain.
    Smoke if ye want. Oan your heid be it but.
    We left it in the end, cos ae the guy in the bed next tae Uli. Hooked up tae an oxygen machine he wis. Didnae want tae risk him freakin oot. He kidda been a former smoker but, who widda been
pleased tae smell the smell ae smoke again. It wis possible anyhow. Ah jist didnae want tae risk it.
    Ah dropped ma voice a bit an’ asked Uli hid he heard they’d found summit recently in the gents at Cobbles, a wee stash, an’ that they’d went straight fur me, the cunts,
though ah knew fuck-aw aboot it.
    Naw, he didnae know.
    Did Marta naw say nuthin?
    Naw. It’s new tae me.
    So, in that case, ye dont know eether whose sugar it wis?
    Naw.
    Ye realise Gross, the plain-clothes guy, suspected me at first? Fortunately, he’s wan ae they guys that occasionally believe summit ye tell them or ahd be in even deeper fuckin shit.
    Gross isnae clean himsel, ye know.
    That’s naw true. He’s clean enough, Uli. There’s ither stuff ye kid accuse him ae, he’s definitely cleaner than you or fuckin me but.
    Comin tae the defence ae a cop, Goalie, eh?
    Ahm comin tae nae cunt’s defence. Ahm jist sayin it’s naw the drug squad officer’s fault if dimwits like Pesche start spreadin the rumour ah stashed sugar in his bog.
That’s how ahm sayin whit ahm sayin. Nae fuckin cop on the planet widda believed someone like me when ah said