On the morning of September 13th Edward Brannegan knelt down onto the plush carpet of his living room, and began to cry. Normally when people cry it starts as silent tears or perhaps some quiet and dignified sniffling. Not so for Edward. As soon as he saw the room he howled and wailed with immense volume, as if he’d been stabbed by one of those asylum seekers he’d read about in the Daily Mail. Still wailing, he set about rolling around the room in his blue and white pinstripe pyjamas.
“No, no, no! Noooooo! I simply, I, I simply shan’t have it!” he cried to no one in particular.
“This is the very last straw, the VERY last straw I can tell you” he said, his voice high-pitched and hysterical.
All of this came as something of a surprise to the thieves who were hiding behind Edward’s grotesquely oversized television.
“So, Keith” breathed one under the cover of Edward’s spectacular sobs, “is this how we roll in
“Shut it Rory. You tryna tell me nuffin’ ever went a bit tits up at Uncle Sam’s Gaffe?”
“Sorry, what?”
“I thought I told you to shut it, you stupid yankee dick’ed.”
Rory smirked. “That’s right Keith. That good old soft racism of the British is alive and well in you, huh pal?” he whispered.
Keith’s face turned purple-red, rather like the helmet of an erect penis Rory thought.
“Well I’m glad you’ve got time to offer some socio-fucking-logical analysis Rory! Pratt.” Keith hissed. “What the fuck are we gonna do now? This bloke’s gone bonkers.”
Edward had begun rhythmically pounding his head against the exquisite coffee table, and was now loudly muttering incoherencies in a highly distressed tone.
“Wotsy sayin’?”
“I don’t know. I think he said Mummy just now. Yah, mummy.”
“Mummy? Fucking mummy?? Jesus Christ. The richer they are the… weirder they fall, I spose” murmured Keith,
secretly quite pleased with his turn of phrase.
“That’s great, Keith. Pure poetry. Now can we stop messing around, god damnit? He’s an old frickin’ man, I could knock him out in say… six seconds. Okay? I’m gonna do it and let’s get the hell outta here.”
As Rory began to move Keith immediately restrained him.
“ ’Old the phone mate. You said it yerself. He’s an elderly gentleman. We can’t just run round there and knock ‘im on the bonce, we might kill him! Fuckin’ hell. That’s just your yankee attitude innit? You’re all the same. Justa buncha soulless playground bullies when ya get right down to it aintcha? Make me sick.”
Edward was staggering about the room as if drunk now, wantonly tearing books from their shelves, idly smashing up the furniture, and deliriously yelling about Margaret, who had never loved him.
“Yeah well you know what Keith? This is all about your lack of moral fibre. Yes Keith it is don’t sit there all open mouthed like you’re in one of your shitty British cartoons. Face it. You aren’t really devoted to this cause. You don’t really care.”
“How bloody dare you! I have been in this movement for twenty –
Both the thieves froze in place as they heard the gun click.
“Margaret… Margaret… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ve tried and I’ve tried and I’ve tried and I can’t do it anymore.”
“What is happening?” mouthed Rory, eyes wide with tension and fear. Keith did not reply, and his complexion became much whiter.
“I realise… I realise that I failed you. I know you wanted so much for me to get off the bottle and spend more time with you and Jack but look I just couldn’t, you know? Life isn’t some fucking fairy tale, you know? IT’S NOT A FUCKING FAIRY TALE!”
Edward sobbed noisily and ungracefully.
“Look at me… moments from death and I can’t even say goodbye without crying. But then I was never much of a man”
Rory’s face was an ocean of troubled questions. Keith frowned and hesitated. Then he ominously mimed shooting himself. Rory closed his eyes and gulped.
“But… but the point is… if I, pathetic wretch that I, that I am… can be permitted to say any final thing to you it is this… I love you and I have always loved you. And I’m sorry you got me. You deserved… so much b-better and I know you’ll find that… s-someday. God… I had written all this in a letter but it seems that fate has conspired to take even that away from me. Now I am a silly old fool. Babbling at the breeze.”
Rory and Keith stared with horror at the envelope they had assumed contained money.
“Enough… goodbye.”
The thieves leapt out screaming no, wait a second, stop.
Edward screamed and fired.
Like a penis?
ReplyDeleteYuo fucking weirdo Alex.
:P