‘Yi y am
A Pas s
‘Just walks around sweating, does nothing but sweat…and fart. Yeah, sweating and farting, and grunting too. Sweats, farts, and grunts. The man is a disgrace!’ raged Nobby, hopping shrewdly on his good foot.
‘What did he ban you for then?’
‘I called him a fat, lazy, turd.’
And Henry did see. He had discerned a pattern emerging since Nobby offered to stick a hot poker up his arse in July after a lurgy. Quarterly cycles, circadian rhythms, in-growing toenails, attention seeking behaviour, and six pints of Old Tharg each lunchtime had taken their grotesque toll.
‘ I’m going down the Zephyr from here on in.
Henry was confused.
‘You mean the Zodiac?’
‘Yeah. See you Sunday.’
With Flo away and Headcase post-traumatically shocked from a wolfhound goring Henry was all for the quiet life. Summer had been pointless, autumn dormant, and now with winter’s onset…
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