Batter the Shithead

I told Hazel I would give her a ring, so I gave her a ring. She had to have been expecting me to ring. I’m sure she’d been expecting it. Maybe not. I told her I would ring. I hope I’m not the kind of person who tells a girl he will give her a ring and then doesn’t.
‘Hey, Hazel,’ I said.
‘Hey,’ she replied.
‘I said I’d give you a wee ring, so here we are, and how are you?’
‘Okay, I’m just in the door actually.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘And you?’
‘Oh, great, you know.’
‘Right.’
‘Yeah, I’m fine. I’m not just in the door myself. I’ve been here all day.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah.’
‘It’s well for some.’
‘That’s it. What have you been doing with yourself anyway?’
‘Not too much. You?’
‘Nothing at all. Just sitting around, you know.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Not doing anything really.’
‘Right.’
‘I’ve been stuffing my face all day. I’m ready to explode, I think.’
‘Oh?’
‘Absolutely. You wouldn’t believe the amount of crap I’ve eaten today.’
‘Oh, don’t. I’ve to cut down myself.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Never a dietician handy when you need one.’
‘Eh, yeah, whatever.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Yep.’
‘Eh, listen, Hazel. What do you think about going out tomorrow evening? I’ve got tickets to see a play in the town hall.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘That’s right.’
‘A date?’
‘Yeah.’
‘No, I wouldn’t be interested.’
‘No?’
‘No, I’m busy tomorrow all day, I think.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Right, sure it doesn’t matter. It’s just some silly play. Antony and Cleopatra.’
‘Oh, right. Nah.’
‘That’s okay.’
‘I wouldn’t be interested in that.’
‘That’s fine.’
‘Yeah.’
‘We can go out some other time.’
‘I suppose, maybe, but I’ll be pretty busy for a long while now.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Right, well, I’ll be going then, Hazel.’
‘Okay. Bye.’
‘Bye.’

I was out with some friends later that night. I had quite a few beers to drown the sorrows of being turned down by Hazel. I got so drunk that I fell asleep in the lounge of the bar and one of my friends wrote UGLY on my forehead in red biro. When I woke up, they were all chuckling away. I went into the toilets, washed the biro off my forehead, left the bar in a huff.
As I stumbled home, I got myself into a terrible state thinking about Hazel. I had been all geared up for a liaison. It would have been so great. Hazel was a lovely girl. When I first met her, I’d thought to myself, ‘she’s too good for you.’ I would no longer make attempts to contest this.
There were a group of young people walking the street some distance ahead of me. Three fellows, one girl. They had just been to the chip shop where they had stocked up on chips and burgers. They were walking very slowly and relishing their takeaway and I was gaining on them.
Even though I was one of them, a nighttime drunk, I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable as I approached them. The moon was a particular shape in the night sky, the kind of shape that humans tend to consider an omen of some sort. What kind of people were they and how would they react under this particular shape of moon? I tried to suck in the guts, call forth some drunk courage, but it wasn’t happening. I was too frail from thinking about Hazel.
Eventually, I was within their nighttime drunk space. I sped up. I wanted to pass them out, be over and done with them as fast as possible. The girl was going out with one of the lads. She was hanging over his shoulder, and he was like a woodpecker on her neck. The other two lads were deep inside their snackboxes.
My chance to overtake them arrived.
I made a swerving movement, and I was nearly past them when I became aware of my condition as the new addition to their evening.
Then I heard their voices talking at me.
‘Oh, look at this. He’s away running.’
‘You’re better off, pal. We’re a nasty lot, aren’t we?’
‘Yeah, too right.’
I was relieved they were being droll about the meeting, but seconds into this relief, I felt a tap on my back. It was one of the fellows.
‘Do you have anything for us, pal?’
I wasn’t sure what he meant. I said nothing.
‘Do you have anything for us, pal? he repeated.
‘He does surely,’ said one of the other fellows.
‘Sorry, I’m not sure what it is.’
What were they talking about? I had no idea.
‘The time.’
‘Oh, the time?’ I looked at my watch. ‘It’s ten minutes to two.’
They didn’t seem interested.
‘Ah, show us your watch. That’s a great watch’ said one fellow.
I showed them my watch.
‘How did someone like you get a watch like that?’ said another fellow.
‘Eh, I bought it,’ I said.
‘What a watch.’
They were playing a little game of menace with me. Little games of menace normally went something like this.
‘That is top of the range, that watch.’
‘Yeah, that’s something special, that is.’
‘I’d love a watch like that. Wouldn’t you, Leroy?’
‘Yeah, too right.’
‘That’s the sort of watch you should be proud to own.’
I had to smile when I heard that the fellow was called Leroy. It seemed a bizarre name for this young pimply Dundalk lad sweaty from a long day in the pub shouting at soccer matches on the television. Perhaps I was too quick to resort to generalisations, but to me, people called Leroy were usually Motown session players mostly found in Detroit.
‘What are you laughing at?’
‘No, I’m not laughing.’
‘What do you make of this, Leroy? He’s laughing.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘You’re still laughing. What are you laughing at, shithead?’
‘I’m not laughing.’
‘I’ll wipe that laugh off your face.’
‘No, I didn’t laugh.’
‘Batter the shithead.’
I was pushed first of all. One of the fellows started pushing me up against a wall, kept calling me ‘Shithead!’ Then Leroy started punching me. He had rings on his fingers. I was bleeding in no time at all. The other fellows got in on it, repeating ‘batter the shithead’ to one another. All three of them were laying into me. Punches, kicks, more and more punches. The girl was egging them on. I was hoping she would be the sort of girl who would take pity on me and beg them to stop beating me up. But no such luck. ‘Batter the shithead!’ she screeched.

The next thing I knew was hospital. I had been unconscious on the street and somebody had called for an ambulance. I wasn’t in too bad a state. My face was roughed up considerably, but that was about it. No bones broken. I would be reluctant about showing my face in public for quite a while. It was an excuse also to see what I looked like wearing sunglasses again. I hadn’t worn a pair of sunglasses in years.

The phone rang.
I picked up.
It was Hazel.
‘Hey, Sean.’
‘Hey.’
‘How are you?’
‘Oh, I’m fine, you know,’ I said.
‘God, I couldn’t believe it when I heard.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Did you know who they were?’
‘No, I’ve never come across them before in my life.’
‘Gee, it’s not safe walking those streets at night at all anymore.’
‘Yeah.’
‘How long were you in the hospital?’
‘Oh, just a few hours. I went home in the morning.’
‘Right. I’m so sorry, I really am.’
‘Yeah.’
‘So what have you been doing?’
‘Nothing, really. Just sitting watching the television.’
‘Right.’
‘It’s pretty boring.’
‘Yeah. Sure I may come round to see you. Would that be okay?’
‘Yeah, no problem.’
‘I might come round this afternoon, will I?’
‘If you want to, okay. If you’re not too busy.’
‘It’s no problem. Do you need anything? Should I bring something over from the shop?’
‘No, I’m fine. Thanks, Hazel.’
‘So I’ll see you in a bit.’
‘Yeah, great.’
‘Okay.’

I checked myself in the bathroom mirror to see how I looked before Hazel arrived. My face was a mess. I had a bandage on my cheek where one of Leroy’s rings had cut me. I peeled it off.
The mark was still there, but it wasn’t as bad as it was before the bandage. I wiped the wound with a sponge.
I cleaned my teeth and then put on my sunglasses.
That’s better.