Ugly Puggly 46

A slight tingling was in the tips of my fingers, pins and needles in my left hand. I didn’t want it to turn into an irregular party and me doing the St Vitus’s dance. So I clutched my hands together. Hoping I wouldn’t have an epileptic fit, jitterbug across the floor and under the table. Perhaps, even, I imagined, a panic attack, but I wasn’t middle-class enough for that palaver. A fly buzzed about and it bugged me more than usual. ‘Fuckin thing,’ I grunted, lifting a hand to wave at it.

Ugly Puggly lifted my fork and took a mouthful of what was left on my plate. Concern was in his eyes, or amusement. I couldn’t pick it apart. We went back a long way. I smiled back at him.

‘Look, I’m no feelin that great,’ I said. ‘I’m gonnae huv a lie doon.’

‘Is there anythin, I can get you?’ Ugly Puggly asked.

I shook my head. ‘My last will and testament.’

Dave looked up from his phone. ‘How am I meant tae get the super glue—withoot you?’  

I felt a jab of irritation. ‘It’s like that Abba song. Yeh, need tae be a Super Trouper.’ And I started singing it, but couldn’t remember the words, and it faded out into a dry cough.

‘Hilarous,’ Dave said.

I squeezed out a fart.

‘Fuck off,’ he said

‘I thought you’d be used tae that, wae aw the beastin ye’ve been takin.’ I glanced at Ugly Puggly, but his face was hard. Before I’d finished speaking, I knew it was the wrong thing to say. ‘I’ll be goin then.’

Trudging up the stairs, I gripped the bannister. I was getting old. I’d need to have one of those CAT scans to tell me what was wrong with me. That was what they did to you, before measuring you for a coffin. In one they told you to close your eyes and gave you swimming goggles. In the other, the undertaker closed your eyes for you.

Too tired to take off my clothes, I lay on top of the bed. I closed my own eyes, which proved I was the right side of being alive. I could hear them downstairs. And because it was the front of the house, close enough to our neighbours I heard them shouting and screaming at each other. An old couple—well, older than me—no doubt they’d be out the next day, holding hands. My stomach was giving me gyp again. That was how it started with Agnes. Six weeks later she was under the earth.

I must have fallen asleep, because I was aware of something in the room. And I couldn’t move and I couldn’t waken up. I tried to shout and scream, even though it might waken Ugly Puggly and Dave. I didn’t care. But I’d no voice. And it was getting nearer and nearer. I tried to shrink away from it, like Sigourney Weaver in the Alien, before the thing licks her face. It shouldn’t have shook me. Agnes, and all her daft pals, did the same thing when I tried to kiss them and stick my tongue into their mouth at the school dance.

‘Jim, it’s time for school.’ My mum was calling. Gasping for breath, I jack-knifed into a sitting position. I didn’t know what time it was, but I blinked away darkness.

Swinging my legs out of bed, I shuffled to the toilet, but didn’t bother clicking the light on. I didn’t want to waken anybody. Sat on the pan. Didn’t flush.  Twisting the cold-water tap, I let the water splash into the sink. Stuck my head down and swallowed wetness and coldness. I could almost feel it gurgling down into my belly as if my throat was made of rusty pipes, liable to give way. My shadowy reflection in the mirror looked better because it was fuzzy.

Picking up my toothbrush, I put it back into the jug. I knew if I used it, it would make me gag. Instead, I reached for the toothpaste. Daubed a bit on my forefinger and rubbed my teeth. My molars were loose in my gums. And my other teeth wandered about, waiting to fall into the tooth fairy’s grasp. But the spearmint flavouring perked me up.

I shuffled downstairs in yesterday’s socks and made my way into the kitchen. A distant fox was barking and kicking up an unneighbourly fuss. Putting the kettle on, I noticed they’d left a light on in the living room. I went through to switch it off.

Ugly Puggly was sitting with a pencil in his hand and a cascade of paper around his feet. His eyes opened and his head jerked back. ‘Oh, it’s you!’

‘Aye, you want a cuppa tea?’

He nodded and yawned.

‘Where’s the playboy?’ I didn’t wait for him to answer. ‘He up the stairs?’

‘Aye,’ he said. ‘When yer young yeh can sleep.’

‘That’s no the problem. It’s who he’s sleepin wae.’

‘You’ve got tae lay aff him.’ Ugly Puggly rubbed at the back of his neck, kneading the muscles in his shoulder. ‘He’s only young. Only a boy. And, Jim, I want yeh to promise me wan thing. If anythin happens tae me, you’ll take care of im.’  

‘Fuck off. I’m no takin care of him!’

‘Jim, I’m beggin yeh.’

‘Don’t be daft. Whit’s gonnae happen tae you? Yer fit enough to be a middle-class wanker and move tae Bearsden. You’ve got at least another ten year in yeh…’

His feet scrunched on the paper. It caught under his heel as he leaned forward and stood up, gripping my arm. ‘That’s no whit I’m talkin about. We both know that. The clock’s tickin. If they find this body.’ He corrected himself and let my arm drop. ‘When they find this body. We’re aw in the shite. But as George Orwell famously said, some of us are more in the shite than others.’

‘Whit yeh talkin about?’

He sighed. ‘We know how the police work. They’ll want a bad guy. And they’ll be willin tae deal for it. Just tell them it was aw my idea. And aw my fault.’

‘Well, it was.’ I started laughing.

He laughed too. ‘Can you no take anythin serious.’

‘Nah.’ I kicked at the paper underfoot. ‘Whit yeh daeing wae aw this paper. It’s stupid, innit?’

‘Kinda,’ he admitted. ‘But I think I’ve got somethin. No much. But I’ve got a meeting wae some Professor up at Glasgow Uni, next week. We can talk about roof tiles, heat resistance and talk about numbers.’

‘You’ve lost me. You want a cuppa tea then?’

‘Aye, but I’ll get it.’

I waved a hand. ‘No, you go back tae countin whatever yer countin. I’ll get it…But how did yeh get in touch wae the guy?’

‘Oh, that was Dave. Some online forum.’

‘He’s good for somethin then?’

Ugly Puggly slapped my arm above the elbow and slid back into his chair. ‘Just remember if we get caught, paint me as some kind of Svengali that seduced him and brought him under my spell. And, member, he didnae huv an orginal thought in his heid.’

‘That shouldnae be too hard,’ I admitted. ‘But yeh want me tae play Judas?’

‘Aye, yeh’ve got tae go the whole way and crucify me.’ He looked down at his scattering of paper. ‘A deal ’s a deal.’

‘I didnae say I was gonnae.’

He picked up his pencil and started writing. He glanced up at my face. ‘That’s exactly whit Judas said.’