trout [ 6 ]
Karl Willis
Working Class

Working class. The kid lit his cigarette, inhaled and then delivered his boot into the mans lower back. A scene not viewed by all, but reflective of the savageness we ignore out of context. The lamp shone too eagerly on his face, casting shadows down on to the man on the cobbles.

-Am I blind? I don't see anything out there but illusion, I need to find truth? jack e spluttered in the grim surrounds of his friends two bedroom flat.
-Check yourself boy, you can't and we can't start this madness. Not now. At least sit down for christsake and relax or you're gonna find yourself on the fuckin street again. Marc utters replies, gesturing towards the seat with its foam guts spewing on to the floor beneath it. Jack e through his distracted ignorance complies.

Yeah the room is seedy as hell, compliments of a red light bulb hanging above the two boys. The garbage is over flowing and the dishes are stacked waiting to be clean, hell the place is a fuckin dump.

-No. Jack e breaks the silence, realising he's sitting dormant under his friends command.
-Fuck this shit it's not changing a goddamn thing.
The kids restlessness came and went, Marc was not able to enforce his will on the kid. Not many people could. He had discovered the best thing to do was to tap it for what worth he could attain. Anything else was counter productive, futile. Anger was one of those emotions which could be distorted into positive production. 

The two kids were at an odd end with the world and with life. The frustration, anger and restlessness stemmed from hatred. They were ill equipped, ill adapted to dealing with others. Neither had found a comfortable place in the so a called 'real world'. It never took long for someone to send the two into head long madness, not over actions but through life style. The two had fostered for quite some time a clear ideal of how one should live 
life. You could see the detest in their eyes when they looked upon others. It wasn't a particular way they dressed or how they held themselves, but their resignation to live as they do. Settling for the physical comfort of life. Their selves softened by the luxury of the material world.

I want to live my life. It will not live me. I am outside carving my way through all. I am funding my existence with experience. Because that is the secret that everyone knows but can't recognise. You have to do and that is as is.

Worthless numbers quiz their way from one insignificant scenario to another. Haunting us with their indifference, blindness and sanity.

The mundane surrounds of the local supermarket. They try like hell to flash it up with bright lights but that's shit. When you've got meat there ain't a hell of a lot you can do with it. For fucks sake it's dead animal, you're not fooling anyone.

I get to the checkout and take the change out of pocket. Realising that I'm five cents short I ask the old duck in front to spot us the coins. After her shaky old hands fetch round inside her purse, she produces the five c that stands between me and nicotine. I place the order.

-I don't approve of smoking you know!
The old bat who gave us five pipes up. I ignore the old bitch, fuckin what's it to her what I'm buying. Only a few cents hardly gonna break the bank. None the less she continues.
-I don't think you should be spending my money on those death sticks!
-LOOK YA OLD COW, her face sucks in onto itself, ya gave us the money now don't go ranting 
on about having it back.

Old cow obviously got nothing better to do, I offer her a smoke, fairs fair, and she turns and walks away. The problem with people today, just to on edge about nothing.

The windows shattered on his first attempt, the iron guard from the drain pierced glass thoroughly. A girl at my primary school had her fingers cut off when one of these things had fallen on her. As a kid I always imagined the fingers hanging on to the hand by a single thread of skin. They would sway with the wind then sever and fall on to the hot asphalt. There wasn't any blood just pink flesh, skin and bone.

He broke away an entering gap in the glass with some rubbish wrapped around his hand. The alarm was going but he knew he would have a few minutes before the heat arrived. He would exit rear. His eyes flickered ferociously around the inside of the_ building. The dated decor and vernacular artwork made him feel surprisingly at home.

His intentions were not clear even to himself. Consequence was a concern only to others, not to him. I will wreck your consequences. With his forearm he brushed the bench clear, falling plates to the ground. Making him real; his heart quickened.

His eyes once again scanned the area to rest upon the refrigerator door. 

Quickly he pocketed the magnet and turned the locks leaving change behind him, on the shoulders of others.

Justification always sets the mind at ease. Reason- logic- cruelty- denial- resolution- disaster- manhattan. His awakening drew upon him two important factors. The phone was ringing and he needed to take a piss. Squinting his way towards the lounge, his bladder yelled pressingly but silent.
-Yeah, jack e here
-Hello there, I'm wondering if you would like to answer a few questions for me and you could go in the draw for a trip to surfers?
Worried more about his compressed bladder.
-Yeah whatever. His voice still riding with trainer wheels this early in the morning. He reaches for an empty bottle sitting on the couch.
-How often do you eat chocolate bars?...Once a month, once a week or once a day? ....approximately?
-Ahh... fuck I dunno once every couple a weeks. He is more concerned with the undoing his belt and zipper. He boosts himself up, pulling his pants and undies down below his crotch.
-Do you have a favourite brand of chocolate?... Nestle, Cadbury, Europe...?
-Well the local company...Cadbury I guess; taking the lid off the bottle, he quickly sizes up between the mouth of the bottle and his penis head.
-A tight fit but it's worth a go.

-Excuse me?
-Ohh I said how longs this got to go?
-Not too long, just bear with me. Do you have a favourite chocolate bar?... Moro, Crunchie, Mars, Snickers, Milkway?

He carefully inserts it into the plastic surrounds of the bottles mouth. Sitting back to allow the urine to flow to the bottom. At first attempt he is finding it hard to release, the pressure is there but the unnatural setting is slowing the works.

-Would you like me to repeat the question?
-Yes ohh.. no, chocolate bar right? well crunchies and moros are ok. Repeating what the guy just dictated to him. More concerned with his inability to piss in the bottle. This cunt on the phone is starting to piss me off.
-Have you ever tried a twirl?
-Yeah once
-What words come to mind when you think of a twirl?
-Umm... soft, sticky, sweet
-Would you consider it to be sensual, playful, easy going, sophisticated?
-For fucks sake its a bloody piece of chocolate we're talkin about! I call it food, energy.

He still can't get his dick to do it's job, what's wrong with me? I gotta relax, think of flowing water, waterfalls, streams, lakes... The urine begins to trickle into the bottle and increases to a constant steady flow. His 
malnutritioned body excretes this vile smelly yellow liquid and he enjoys the feeling of release. Only to be upset as the hand he is leaning on slips. His body falls over slightly. 
-If you were to be a chocolate bar, which one would you be?
The phone which is resting between ear and shoulder drops down and knocks the bottle, now full with half a litre of piss, on to the carpet. He is unable to stop the flow from his own body. The urine squirts from him onto the wallpaper and he feels his jeans dampen with that which has exited his body.

In raged distress he picks up the receiver:
-You FUCKIN USELESS CUNT I got a place to put your chocolate bars. If I ever get hold a you won't be visiting choice bar heaven no more. I'll break you fuckin neck and throw you from my roof now fuck off.

As he lies off kilter in a damp patch of his body fluids a feeling of restlessness comes over him. All this despite his attempt and subsequent failure to do two things at once. He drags his urine soaked body towards the shower leaving behind a dark patch of carpet and tainted air.

The shower was fucked. The water flowed lopsided over his shoulders. Most of the water leaned to the right and since the shower curtain was ripped, most of the water puddled in the centre of the bathroom. Result that you could shower very quickly or flood the hallway. He hardly ever showered and when he did it was never this early in the day. The soap stung his already sensitive eyes, the irritating pain made him feel alive. Sharpen up life. Too often people drift along in comfort and cruise, reality is best dawned by a little pain discomfort suffering.

Quickly throwing on clothes and drying himself it was time to hit the streets. He strolled up the avenue looking around suspiciously. 
-Never one to miss an opportunity. He muttered under his breath. This mornings opportunity was his unseasonal early dawning; result: no one on the street. A blessing in disguise was that choc bar pusher.

Locked... Locked... Locked... Locked... unlocked. He looked at the car. Not the best set of wheels to leave there doors unlocked but a free ride none the less. Looking around, clear, get in the car. A pocket knife produced, he switches to the custom blade with indentations and contours oblivious to the swiss army. Uncles James was a bit of a trickster you could say. Always keen to share his knowledge. GRAND THEFT AUTO skeleton key. The battery grunts then ignites the engine. We're off. A remember every time I said 'you off?' to my dad he 
would sniff his fuckin armpits and say it wasn't him that was off. Bit of a comedian that old bugger. The red mazda crawls its way subtly onto the road. He looks in the rear vision mirror and sees a girl looking at the car. She then breaks out into a sprint and starts hostile screaming
-Aawwy that's ma fuckin car.....
To far away to hear, better make it a quick trip.

I don't really get into cars in a big way. There something to get you from a to b. That said people are hung on them too much, get all bent cause some cunt forgets to indicate. End up killing themselves if the police don't fine them and put em away. As for a status symbol, cars can kiss my arse cause the lame arse that recognise this so-called status are the same cunts I like to deal to.

Need some music. Turn the deck on turn the deck off. Fuckin what's this boolshit. He opens the glove box in hope of finding some decent music.
-HHAAA ha HA yeah.....yeah.
The punk left her goddamn rego papers in the glove compartment.

He pulls up at the closest car dealer, no sense wasting time.

He knew the moment he sat down that things were going down hill. He had met this girl when he went round to his mates place the other night. Some fuckin mistake that was; running back to her flat. Her flatmates were all gathered having a discussion before dinner. Disaster closing in on me that's for fuckin sure.

-Ah don't know Keith, you can't just go around hitting ever person you dislike... and being drunk is no excuse.
-I keep telling' ya Linda I did not start it, he shoved me. Beside he had no right talking about the council in such a way. I've followed them for four years now and what they have do to this town since then is inspirational. They don't deserve to be rubbished.

What's the cunt talking about, the fuckin council is a pack of old conservatives waiting to cash in on the peoples money through their super. Biggest thing thuv dun in the last four years is allocate an area where dogs can legally shit. The cunt had a phat black eye and a split lip, was obvious the council boy had to pay his taxes the other night. Serve the cunt right. Buncha fuckin useless cunts nevir git a goddamn thing done, always sitting round doing fuck all.

-Violence is never the answer Keith, no matter what. Otherwise we may as well be crowding around the fire grunting and scratching each others backs.

Like this fucker can talk, he's the one who looks like a goddamn ape. If his hands and face didn't look like a rug maybe some cunt might take him seriously.

-I honestly don't know about your morals, one week it's talking to ladies like they are meat for the taking and next it's this?

Poor cunt is getting his beans right enough, serve him right for kickin with this stale crowd. He moves out of his chair and heads for the bathroom. Producing from his pocket a suspicious brown powder, cut into line then inhaled...escape.

Sitting down on the couch. Back into the conversation.

-I hardly see how you can question my morals. The way you treated that Williams bloke was, quite frankly, rude.

-He was just as bad as you were, one night at the pub he decked a bloke cause he spilt a bit of beer on him. To bloody right I was rude to him, he had it coming I tell you.
-So you can justify that but not what I did? I smell a case of double standards.

Jeez these cunts go oan. The speed was takin effect and the kid up until now quiet was starting to twitch an shiver with anxiousness to speak. He takes a sip from his glass of beer and his teeth grind on to the glass. It cracks loudly, at the same time the glass cuts into the sides of his lip and tongue.

-ARRRRHHh!! Blood dripping down his mouth and chin and onto his front. He leaps from the chair, oblivious to the pain but voicing his frustration at the people he shared company with.
-The fuck you speak dies before it reaches my ears cause it just isn't worth listening to. It's noise cause it's nothing. Your insignificant useless shit lives grind the lively hood of others till you drag them down to your level. No deservedness. No aside. No No No No No No No.

Dear Marc

Your father and I were most disappointed to hear from the police last week. I just don't understand why you can't stay out of trouble. Enclosed are some pamphlets on various trades I thought you might be interested in. After all you are very good with your hands, all you need is a little dedication and you could get an apprenticeship and become a roofer!

What happened to that girl you introduced us to last month, I hope she hasn't disappeared into the woodwork. It wouldn't hurt you to try and make a go of it, the last thing you want is to be growing old all by yourself. And you'll be wanting a few kids of you own soon.

When I went to the bank the other day the nice lady at the till was telling me all about the low rates on morgages. There's quite a few nice houses around so that's something to think about.

Finally, I don't want to start sounding like I'm trying to run your life; but when you do get a job it will pay to put a little aside each week for your super. You'll never miss it because you never had it. And when you reach my age it makes things a lot easier. Well I must go now, the chicken's ready, who knows one day you may thank me for all of this.

Love Mum XOX

He didn't know whether to burn it or to frame it.

-You believe this shit man?
Jack e took the piece of paper into his hand. After a few minutes he had read it.
-Sounds like you got a plan ma boy.
Knowing full well that Marcs ever passion stemmed from rejecting this adopted mould for living.
-Yeah it's all set out in front of me, all I need to do is conform. Fuckin cunts make it so 
easy don't they?
-I think it's time to make a move.

The two kids were all eyes on the guts of town, scanning checkin' for a body.
-Check mister black jacket ten o'clock
-Yeah, him.

The two closed in on a man walking south wearing a black leather jacket and dark blue jeans. As they had done many times before, Jack e stayed behind the guy while Marc walked in front. Marc turned
-Excuse me mate, you mind if we have a word with you?
-I'm in a bit of a hurry actually
-All the better
Jack e grabbed his arm gently and led him down an off street area.
-I hope this won't take long. He said with a less than confident tone.

Useless motherfucker didn't have a goddamn clue. So roped up in his real world he didn't see the wheels turning.

Dealing blows. Inflicting their own pain upon him, the average. Don't you see how rich his life is, resigned yes, but happy also. You don't have to change the world it is all gonna be there tomorrow.

  © 1999

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