Nowt ah kin dae but spill n beg, and then…
And then ah see him…
Standing just behind the copper.
My old mate. In his hands, the baseball bat I got fae Karl Gibson. The ex-Dodgers boy who got ays tae make that mutilated heid ay his former coach. The story eh telt, how eh hit the home run tae win game one for the Dodgers in the World Series. And there the cunt is, half in shadow, the bat raised…
RENTON…
… He takes a swing and skelps Hammy right across the side ay his pus. The polis cunt goes doon and the gun fires off, a shot ringing oot. Renton is right on Hammy, on top ay him, battering the cunt. The most amazing thing is that it isnae even a fight. It’s a fuckin massacre. Renton’s heid smashes repeatedly into Hammy’s nose. Then his elbays. He grabs the bat again n wedges it on Hammy’s windpipe. Renton. — THAT’S IT, RENTS! KILL THE CUNT! YLT!!
— I’M A CAW-CAW-CAWWP… the dopey cunt gargles.
— I’m a fuckin social worker, ah think Renton sais, n he isnae letting up until the cunt’s eyes roll right intae his heid. Even though Rents wisnae a fighter, ye kin see that schemie flint in they squirrelly, shifty, sunken eyes. That ruthless snide streak that would never hesitate and surrender any advantage life throws at ye by accident. This Hammy Hamster cunt is fuckin well out for the count! I’m trying tae git tae ma feet in this fuckin chair…
— Stop, Mark, Mel begs, — he’s done!
Renton eases the pressure and looks up at us, panic in his wide eyes. He’s spooked himself now, at where he’s taken this. The cop cunt is fuckin spangled, right enough. Renton takes the cunt’s pulse oan his neck. — He’s still here, he says in a gasping, euphoric chant ay excitement and relief.
— Thank God you came, Mark, thank God you came… Mel blabbers, pale and disbelieving as she stares doon at Hammy, his face bloodied and pulped.
Rents’s eyes are everywhere before they settle on me. — Where’s the keys tae they cuffs?
— The cunt’s poakits, ah tell him.
Renton goes back tae Hammy and fishes oot these keys on a chain. Tries a couple before they work. He frees Mel first. — Oh, bless you, Mark, she goes n flings her airms around him, then she turns tae me, and does the same, as Renton takes oaf ma cuffs n starts windin that rope oaf ay ays. Ah stand up too quick and feel like ah’m gaunny cowp ower n be seek, but ah fight the impulse doon. — Rents… what the fuck are you daein here?
— Well, it looks like ah’m fuckin helpin you oot, bud, ay? Renton says, shaking, his teeth hammering thegither in shock. — What’s gaun oan here?
Mel’s still got a hud ay me, but suddenly ah see the blood. Ah wriggle oot her grip. His fuckin bullet caught her in the airm. — Ye okay?
— It’s only a graze, she says, and wraps an auld rag roond it. She looks tae the door n goes, — The girls, n she runs through.
Ah picks up the shooter that Hammy cunt droaped when Rents tanned the fucker’s pus. Ah’m careful no tae touch the handle. The barrel’s still hoat in ma fingers.
Renton sees ays looking at the cop’s body. He’s still half oot, groanin oan the deck, baith eyes rollin n tryin tae focus, blood pishin oot ay his mooth.
Renton kens what I’m thinking. — He broke in, ah tell him. — He’s been stalking Mel. Obsessed wi her, since school. A weirdo. He’s a cop, an ex-cop, but an alkie.
— The polis’ll do the cunt, Franco.
— One fuckin shot but, ay? Self-defence. Solve the whole fuckin problem!
— It’s his shooter, Frank. He’s fucked. Dinnae shoot the cunt, you’ll jist fuck it aw up.
Ah thinks aboot this. Hauls in a deep breath. He’s probably right. Ah pits the gun doon oan the bench. — AH’LL FUCKIN KILL THE CUNT! N ah step forward, ready tae stomp that heid intae that concrete flair, till the skull cracks n grey shite spills oot ay it, till ah kin smell the cunt’s brains…
— JIM, STOP! Mel has come back through, and she’s ower grabbing ays by the airm. — The girls are okay, she shrieks at ays. — They slept through it all! Just call the police!
— It’s the way tae go, Franco, Rents smiles, like he’s comin up oan a fuckin ecky.
— Aye, right… n ah pull in some mair gulps ay air.
— Honey, he’s an ex-cop and a stalker. The trauma is back in Mel’s eyes. — This is for the police! You must see that!
Ah’m lookin at Hammy Hamster, still tryin tae git ma breathin sorted oot. The rush ay blood tae the heid, like the tide comin in, the same sort ay sound ah heard when ah fucked they two wide cunts oan the beach, the ones the cop cunt wis talkin aboot… it slowly starts tae recede. Ah look at the cunt oan the deck. It wid be easy…
Naw… jist breathe…
— Mel’s right, Franco, Rents says, bug-eyed n excited, makin a fist ay a scrapped and swollen mitt. — Think ay the life he’ll have in prison as an ex-copper: ungreased butt-fuckings every day. He’s gaun tae a place a lot worse than death, Franco!
Mel looks at Rents in a vaguely chastising way, as ah haul in another deep breath. — You eywis kent how tae get roond me, I say tae um, and I walk ower tae Hammy’s groaning body, swing ma leg back and boot oot three ay the cunt’s front teeth with one blow.
— JIM, NO! Mel screams.
— Sorry, doll. Ah move away, nodding tae her and then Renton. — Fuckin polis it is then, ay, n ah pits ma hands on her trembling shoodirs. — I know it’s primitive, but there’s no way he’s touching you without me getting a lick in. Wis never gaunny happen.
— Enough now, she commands.
— Of course.
Renton is connected tae 911 right away. — Hello, I’d like to report a break-in, kidnapping, assault and possibly attempted murder.
Then Mel’s calling the lawyer, the boy who has a copy ay the tape and whae’s been pit in the picture. Wi Hammy bein filth it’s the smart move. We sit there, Hammy shackled wi his ain cuffs, lying on the floor, face bleeding over the concrete. The visible side is misshapen and reddish black, both his eyes slits in swollen red bulbs. Aye, Renton fuckin well pummelled the cunt pretty good. Wisnae fuckin aboot wi they elbays. Could have done wi that style fae the shitein cunt up the toon in our youth, instead ay daftie here huvin tae sort everything oot. Still, fair play, better late than never. I envy the cunt every single fuckin lick he goat in. If it was doon tae me, ah’d set aboot the cunt wi the tools, n pit in a steady shift till thaire wis nowt left.
The lawyer gets here aboot a minute before the polis and the first thing he does is supervise them gettin that cunt oot ay the hoose. The Hammy Hamster fucker goes quietly, like he’s in shock, mutterin tae ehsel. It’s Mel whae’s daein maist ay the talkin tae the polis. Ah just sits doon n speaks whin spoken tae. Ah tells them that he was obsessed wi her, and seemed tae think that ah wis some kind ay serial killer. — It’s utterly bizarre stuff, ah tell them, thinking ay how Iain, the bad boy ay Scottish art, back in the New Town, would respond in such a situation. Ah’m sucking in ma breath at times, but ah’m as polite as fuck tae they cunts. If your instincts are bad, ye train yersel by acting counter-intuitive, daein the reverse ay what ye feel like daein. Mel and Rents are as plausible as fuck. He eywis wis a smart cunt. He’s goat that managerial tone, that in control shite gaun oan. The lawyer sits thaire, looking intently, occasionally nodding but no really saying anything, but ye know that just wi him being there the polis play by Queensberry rules n dinnae overstep the mark. This is how coppers should be, but ah’ve never hud them like this before.