Friday
Ya dancer, it’s Friday, and that only means one thing, carry out after a half days work.
I’ll no bore ye with the details with my shitty job, because it’s the same as everyone else’s job, shite. Oh and by the way, my names Darren, Daz or big slips, whatever flavour suits ye.
I’ve got a bird as well, she’s well tidy, but can be a right pain in the arse. We text constantly, see each other a few times a week – but never on a Friday cause I like to get rat-arsed wae ma mates after a stressful week in the office.
I get hame fae work and luk oot ma best gear for a night in wae the troops – you still huv tae luk gid regardless in ma opinion. So the G-star jeans, Lacoste polo shirt and Henri Lloyd gutties are all laid out on the bed – as ye do – and I like what am seein’. So I jump in a shower and get maself all freshened up and spray the awl faithful Lynx bodyspray on and splash a wee bit of Joop on ma neck.
I head to the off-license – in typical Friday fashion – and purchase two bottle of the monk’s finest, Buckfast tonic wine and some warm up cans of Scotland’s premium lager, then make ma way to my good mate Craig’s hoose – it’s no actually his hoose, it’s his gran’s, but he gets it tae himself for the weekend and it’s fuckin’ quality.
Maself and Craig have the Playstation on playin’ FIFA and it’s fairly evenly matched between us, but we like tae dish oot that shite patter that we pump each other at FIFA aw the time, it’s just whit boys dae, a wee bit of harmless banter that some snowflakes might consider tae be offensive.
The hi-fi is on wae some of the best East Coast and West Coast rappers blaring out the wee speakers and both of us are bobbin’ our heads to the beats – cool as fuck.
I receive a text from my bird, Jen;
Hey hun, how was work? I haven’t heard from you today! What are you doing tonight? Xoxo
I kindly reply;
Hey babe, work was manic, didn’t have the time to text. I’m in Craig’s the now with the usual carry out playin FIFA. What you up to? xxx
I then receive this snidy response;
So you never had time to text but you had time to arrange a drink with your friends?
I chose tae ignore that reply, it didny deserve ma time and it always ends in an argument regardless on a Friday.
Few hours later and the living room starts fillin’ up wae familiar faces wae bags of cans and boxes of chips fae the tandoori – few boys, few lassies – just the usual. Ma phone starts to ring, Jen x, I leave the livin’ room and I stupidly answer the phone,
Me – “Awrite, what’s happening?”
Jen – “Why have ye no text me back?”
Me – “Jen, I’m in Craig’s enjoyin’ masel, I don’t huv tae text aw the time. I’m seein’ ye the mora anyway”
Jen – “I text you when am oot wae ma pals. A Saturday wae you is brilliant cause aw ye dae is moan how rough ye are! Who’s aw in Craig’s anyway? Any lassies there?”
Me – “Just the usual boys and a few lassies that I went to school wae”
Jen – “They better no try anyhin’ and you better behave yersel”
Me – “Jen am no like that anyway, ye know that and they know am taken so don’t worry aboot it. Am gawny go the noo, will give ye a text anyway”
Jen – “Aye, whitever, bye”
I walk back through the livin’ room and everybody is in good spirits havin’ a laugh so it disny take me long to shake the mood and pick up where I left aff.
I’ve had a few warm-up cans and I decide it’s time tae crack the monk’s finest open, so I make ma way tae the fridge – in the kitchen obviously – and Craig has followed me through.
“Is she startin’ on ye again man? Ye honestly just need tae get her tae fuck mate, she does this every weekend and it’s getting’ on ma tits, and I know it’s gettin’ on yours”, says Craig.
“I think I might dae it this weekend, I just canny be arsed dain it the night, I’m enjoyin’ masel too much”, I said to him.
“Right fine, but don’t answer anymare messages or calls mate, or I’ll punch yer cunt in, I mean it”, he said tae me, and we both just burst oot laughin’ and we went back tae the party tae enjoy the oursels.
Saturday
I’ve woke up on Craig’s gran’s couch with a stinkin’ sare heed. There is a few bodies lyin’ on the floor with their heeds propped up wae couch cushions and empty beer boxes – anythin’ they could grab for a decent nights kip.
I grab my gear and just leave tae head hame via the roll shop to square me up. It was some night, it always is on a Friday.
I huv tae put ma phone on charge when I get in the hoose only tae find notifications fur nineteen missed calls and umpteen text messages – fuck sake.
Once I’ve caught up wae my mum and dad, I head back tae ma room tae make the phone call tae the seethin’ beast.
The phone is ringin’ and ringin’ and I start beleivin’ she’s no gawny answer, but the rocket picks up on the last ring.
“Yes”, she says tae me.
“Sorry, that’s me just getting’ hame, ma phone died last night, and I left ma charger in the hoose”, I responded.
“I bet it did, bet ye were aw oor they lassies in their last night anaw! And don’t even think…”, she rattled on and on and I just sat the phone doon, couldny be fucked wae it anymore, I am done.
“You still there? Darren?”, she sounded like a wee borrower through the phone speaker.
“I’m here noo, listen, a canny be fucked wae this, I don’t need this pish anymore. You dae it every weekend and I run back like a wee dug, ye fuckin’ ruined my night at Tiesto cause ye thought I was shaggin’ everythin’ in sight, ye ruined my birthday night out cause I couldny invite friends if they were lassies, yer poison! We are finished! Noo am away tae nurse ma sare heed in peace, see ye”, and I hung up the phone, tremendous feeling, massive weight aff ma shoulders, noo tae laze about aw day on the brink of death wae this hangover.
Later that night I hear the special text message ringtone I set for that maniac Jen and I pick up ma phone, the text read as follows;
You are such an arsehole, I canny believe I had feelings for you! You have broke my heart I hope you are pleased with yourself!
I just dinghy it, she’s no ma problem anymore – or so I fuckin’ thought!
The next message comes through after I ignored one of her phonecalls and it says;
I’m going to jump off the bridge over the carriageway, you have ruined my life!
Fuckin’ hell, I canny be fucked wae the lassie but suicide isny something I want on my profile, nevermind my conscious – it’s a small area I live in and folk talk. You could fart up the street and before you know it, the toon is sayin’ ye shat yersel, a bit of an exaggeration but folk are gossipy bastards.
Anyway, I dae the right thing and phone her Dad.
“Hi Paul, sorry to call you and apologies for breaking up with yer daughter”, I says – and he replies brillianty.
“Hi Darren, do not worry about it, you are a nice boy and she can be a nightmare, we’ve all been there”, he says tae me – tremendous.
“Listen, I didn’t want to bother you but I have to because Jen has just messaged me sayin’ she’s out a walk and going to jump off a bridge, I think you might need to go get her near the carriageway”, I says tae him – I speak a wee bit more proper tae him because he wisny a bad bloke.
“She said what?!? Jen is upstairs in her room I can hear her on the phone to her friend”, he says tae me.
“Listen Paul, I widny lie about somethin’ like this, I just needed to phone ye in case it was serious”, I said back to him.
“I appreciate that Darren, thank you for doing the right thing, nice meeting you, see you around”, he ended the phone call like an American, didny wait until I said bye – that’s whit they aw seem tae dae on the tele and in the films.
What a relief, I am now a free man and it feels gid! I jump in on the take-away order wae my mum n dad and hoover down the donner kebab like a dug eatin’ jam and my phone dings, a text fae Jen again – fuck sake.
I can’t believe you phone my dad, you are such an arsehole!
I block her number, delete everythin’ that ties her tae me and just lie back down in my hungover state. I canny believe I went out with an actual psycho by the way.
Allan's Short Stories 