‘I couldn’t wear it .. too scratchy.’
‘Better than getting frostbite on your face.’
‘Fuckin frostbite … you talk like it’s Siberia.’
‘Feels like it.’
‘Just you fuckin wait till January … then it’ll feel properly cold.’
‘I normally wear shorts in January.’
‘Yeah, but it’s back to front where you’re from. Fuckin crocodiles and kangaroos everywhere.’
‘Never see one.’
‘Crocodile?’
‘Nah, kangaroo.’
‘Bollocks. Like dogs they are. My mate told me.’
‘Not where I’m from.’
‘I’ve had kangaroo.’
‘I don’t think you have, mate.’
‘Have so. In a burger. Place by mine used to do it.’
‘You can’t get kangaroo in London.’
‘Can where I’m from. Get anything round there.’
‘Anything?’
‘Yeah … anything.’
‘Can you get a gun?’
‘Gun? What do you want a gun for?’
‘Can you get it?’
‘Course.’
‘How quickly can you get it?’
‘Fuck me, you’re a turn up for the books.’
‘How quickly?’
‘Quick enough.’
‘Can you do tomorrow?’
‘Are you fuckin with me?’
‘No. Can you get it by tomorrow?’
‘Probably. What do you want it for?’
‘Work.’
‘Work? You’re a fuckin roadworker.’
‘Not much longer I’m not.’
‘You got something planned?’
‘Wouldn’t be needing a gun if I didn’t.’
‘What we talking about here … pistol, shotgun … ?’
‘All the above …. if you can deliver.’
‘Whether I can deliver depends on what you’ve got.’
‘Five.’
‘Not gonna get all the above with five, sunshine.’
‘What about seven?’
‘Gonna ask you again … you fuckin with me?’
‘No, I’m not … sunshine.’
‘Wouldn’t be good for you if were.’
‘Well I’m not.
‘All right … leave it with me.’
‘Tomorrow .. I want them tomorrow.’
‘Both of ’em?’
‘Yeah … I need both.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Good … should I come to you?’
‘I’ll tell you where to be.’
‘Will it just be you?’
‘What do you mean?’
Fuck … he’s worked it out. ‘When I buy the guns off you … will it just be you?’
‘Guns? Don’t know what you’re talking about mate. I’m a roadworker … and tea break’s over. Now get your arse outside.’
This fictional short story was written for a 50 Day Project organised by the artist Amanda Billing. I get 45 minutes to an hour (not the project’s rules, it’s just about the time I have right now) to write a story, sometime between 4.30am and 5.30am. After that, the day is no longer mine.
N.B. The sketch image for this short story was created using AI (at best, I can draw a half-decent stick man). The words are all mine.
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