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| sean stone, algieria, paul haggis, amman, ray, movies, heather champ, personals, films, comedians, freaks, boobies, jordan, alternative hip hop, | I should've burnt the fucking thing. By the end he was hemorrhaging from both ends, you know? I used to hear him in the morning hanging on to the kharzi. It was lovely. Never stopped him going to the pub, though. No, he was well enough to do that. rallys Now, one day, right, he's staggering across the pub pissed from the night before. He's gone over, crunch, right on his mooey, like rallys a fucking ironing board. His hooter's around here, his railings all over the fucking place. Me rallys and me mum had to go the hospital to see him. We walked in. He's laying in bed. He's got tubes up his arms, fucking up his nose, down the back of his Gregory. He didn't look well. Fucking vodka was keeping him alive. Well, I ain't that interested, so I'm having a little mooch about, you know. I looked above his bed, and there's this sign, right, with some weird writing on it. I couldn't read too well at the time. |
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| You live in here, you might as well fucking eat in here." It's funny. ray He didn't like that, did he? Mugged him up in front of his mates. Thought more ray of them cunts than he did us. Lovely. Yeah. She got a clump over that. ray Well, she would, wouldn't she? He was always pissed in there, weren't he? You know? We go in the pub to get our living, you know? That's where we do our business. He'd be there spunking out while we're sitting at home without a dinar, you know, thank you. And he'd promise things. You know? Promise to take us places, you know? Never did. Never took us anywhere. And when he did bother to come home he'd sit in that fucking chair, doss off with his tray in his lap. And I'd just stand there looking at him. I'd look in his face, and my mother'd go upstairs, and I'd say, "Say, Mum, ain't Daddy coming to bed?" And she'd say, "No. No, he's all right, son. He'll come up when he wakes up." He's gotta wake up to go to bed! Now, I'd stand there looking at this fucking old man, you know, my dad, you know, in that chair, that horrible fucking chair with the shiny, worn-out arms. |
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