Stories of the Street - Fourteen A and B

--- A ---

That first shaft of real sunlight cut along the street burning a hole in the heavy dust on the newsagent’s window. It gradually spot-lit two men whose lives and lifestyles had sculpted incoherent raggedness into their faces and damaged their body language to such a degree that you no longer distinguish movements of defence and attack.

They were waiting for the shop to open so that they could buy the cheapest, strongest alcohol they could afford. As they were here, in this street, that meant they would be buying cans of a sour, flaccid cider with an exceptional level of alcohol, which was fine by them. Breakfast would soon be served.

Their mumblings together, the sound seemingly held within a permanent cloud of cheap tobacco smoke, would have been difficult for a stranger to translate but they were not as incoherent as they sounded.

One, the tallest, was recounting a tale in which he was attacked by two thugs when he was in a neighbouring borough. They had watched him beg for most of the previous morning and then, as he slipped down an alley way he used both as a shortcut to the off licence and as a toilet the two appeared from nowhere and pushed him up against the wall. He still had his penis out and could not prevent it from continuing the process of leaking its steady stream of sour piss down his trouser leg as they held his arms and shoulders against the wall and demanded his morning’s takings.

Like all people in his walk of life, he kept his money in a wide variety of different pockets and places about his person and these two proceeded to look everywhere for it. When they found everything they could find they gave him a half hearted beating and left him in the pool of urine that had been forming at his feet throughout the incident.

“Did they get all your money, then?” asked the one who had been listening.

“Naw,” laughed the teller of the tail, “hardly any of it, that’s the funny part.”

“Why? How did they miss it?”

“Simple,” He began to wheeze through his laughter, “I had most of it in my underpants and I just kept pissing so they kept their hands away from the best hiding place!”

They were both laughing when the door opened, not noticing that as they entered the shop they were bringing with them a thick, vile stench of stale urine that caused the shop keeper to feel like retching as he served them.

Despite air fresheners, open windows and fans, the smell clung to the shop for most of the rest of that day.


--- B ---

“So we give them turns each at being on our backs as we trot up and down the garden making horsy noises. They absolutely loved that” The dark haired school girl continues their baby sitting tales as they walk down the road.

“But she does not have any shoes to put on,” pointing to the blond girl, “so I say ‘try these’ and she puts on their dad’s Wellington boots.”

“They were green!” Shrieks the other girl, “And so big I swear I was taking two steps before I started moving!”

“Yeh, and the little boy goes, ‘You’re wearing my daddy’s boots.’ And we agree and he says, ‘So, you must be a daddy, too.’ And when we laugh he asks, ‘does that make you a man?’ and she nearly falls over!”