Page 44 - The Woven Tale Press Vol. IV #2

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of green hair you could wash a pile of dishes you don’t mind me saying?” He wanted to say with in a hotel kitchen. He could hear the Hon- something to draw his attention to the clock. da 50 drawl of both their voices building up at “Just letting you know with the few stops al- breakneck speed into an ambulance “warrrhhh ready, It’s up to €18 now.”
(continued from page 18)
warrrrhhh warrrrh warrrr”, before he was back in the car again. He better not be messing him around. The clock was up to €14 already. He wasn’t about to bring him on a round-trip of inner city Dublin dealers in dank car parks and lurid laneways strewn with needles and cab- bage leaf. The last one had the wool rightly pulled, taking him to five different chemists for her ‘fy’ while robbing them of expensive face cream. “I’m only trying to make an honest living like you,” she’d said, jumping back into his car. “I’m natterbean in prison four times already and I’ll never go back, so relax .” His
“No bother bud,” he said. “Here’s another
Lady Godiva, I’ll give ye the rest when we get there. That fella used to be a brilliant house breaker, so he was, but the Hungarians have
all that wrapped up now. They put fucking broken glass outside bedroom doors so if you hear noise in the middle of the night ye smash up yer feet if ye have a gander. Filthy stuff that is. We never did anything like that. Always straight in and out. It’s not on, some poor old prick cuttin’ his feet te ribbons, you don’t do shit like that but dem Hungarians and Russians are mad, they’ve no respect.”
reg was taken on CCTV and he had to call into the guards and explain. It’s not his job to ask questions as long as the punter pays up, but he got a fine from the carriage office regardless.
At the corner of Meath Street and Engine Al- ley a red hoodie made a run for the window, “There ye are ye mad cunt!” He roared in. “I’m natterbean only been talking about you to Skit- tles and the lads!” He held onto the boot as the light turned, falling over on his arse and rolling towards the drain. Natterbean was punching more digits on his mobile as the chemist came into view. He thought of Gina. “It’s €22 on the clock,” I’ll need paying as soon as you
“Can ye turn down here for a minute bud,” he said, when they hit the grey bulk of Christ- church. “There’s me mate Bottler, just want to say howayea, his Mrs had a baby a few weeks back, they had to sew up her piss bag, she’s in an awful state.”
Bottler staggered out of a doorway looking like come out.”
a Grade-A psycho who’d snap yer fingers off quicker than a fat kid at de zoo would break up a Kit Kat. Natterbean gave him a man slap on the shoulder and made his way back to the car.
He’d accidentally seen her Tinder talk a few
“He looks a bit of a head-the-ball, that fella, if