Greyhound for Breakfast

by Kelman, James

  I stopped there but I continued looking at him. I felt it was necessary to do this because I also felt I had gone over the score in what I had said to him. But I couldnt take anything back. It was said, and that was that.

  He smiled, then he put his right hand up to cover his face, as if he was trying not to break down in front of me. In fact it wasnt that at all. He looked at me very seriously and he says, I doubt if you’ve truly understood a single thing I’ve said.

  Hh – well I think the very opposite. I think I understand only too well, only too fucking well.

  Aw well then there’s nothing more to be said.

  Exactly.

  If you would just tell the next patient to come ben on your way out . . .

  Naw, will I fuck, do it yourself.

  He smiled. I knew you’d say that, this is why I said it; in fact I’ve got a wee light I switch on, so you dont have to say fuck all – okay?

  Aye, aye, great, that’s great with me.

  Good, glad to hear it . . . He nodded then sniffed and glanced down at his desk.

  After a moment I says: So what’ve you dismissed me or what? It’s hard to tell.

  He looked at me in an odd way, and I knew it was what to do next was the problem.

  That Other

  The people filed into the Memorial Tower in some consternation for the culprit was still at the gate, still shrieking that horrific blasphemy.

  And all the while the foolish inconsistency prevailed.

  Of those involved only two individuals could even hope to be aware of its singular significance. Yet the people were now spiralling upwards, blinking.

  More complaints from the American

  Correspondent

  Jesus Christ man this tramping from city to city – terrible. No pavements man just these back gardens like you got to walk right down by the edge of the road man and them big fucking doberman pinchers they’re coming charging straight at you. Then the ghettos for christ sake you got all them mothers lining the streets man they’re tugging at your sleeves, hey you, gies a bite of your cheeseburger. Murder polis.

  Where but what

  And that chair I had wasnt even comfy. To have tried telling her but. Honest, she wasnt fucking interested. She preferred no to hear. No to hear, that was her game. No to even listen. And she didnt even kid on she was listening. She didnt bother, she didnt even bother. I was fucking browned off I mean, worse; worse than that. I felt like – I dont know. I’m no sure, I’m no really sure. Something but; I felt like something, I’m no sure.

  But I just carried right on sitting there, getting more and more uncomfortable. Sometimes I couldnt even be bothered going to the cludgie. I mean sitting there needing, just sitting there needing, saying Fuck it. Fuck the cludgie, I’m no going, cant be annoyed. So I dont know what like a state it is, my belly, inside it, I dont know.

  Who cares.

  She did in a way I suppose but was it genuine? Naw, I dont think so. I dont think you could really say it was, that it was genuine. It didnt worry me but; no really. It might’ve at one time but that was a long time ago. I’ll tell you something; there was this mate of mine Billy, Billy Adams. No a bad cunt. I’d known him for years. Years! me and him’d been mates for. As long as we knew each other, I would say, we’d been mates. So it was as long as that, but that was a while ago.

  What was I on about? Fuck knows. That back of mine too, killing me. I used to say to her. That back of mine’s fucking killing me so it is – murder! All she did but, nodded her head, nodded her fucking head.

  Another thing I did right enough I drank that tea; I drank that tea! Fucking stacks of the stuff. Till it was coming out my ears. I used to drink coffee but then I started getting this terrible heartburn so I stopped. Funny thing too about it, when I was smoking, I never used to get it; well I did right enough but it was from the actual smoking, the actual smoking I got it, no the coffee.

  Yet how do I know. I dont really. Maybe it was the fucking coffee after all!

  Who cares.

  And you couldnt tell her anything either neither you could cause she wouldnt listen, she wouldnt listen, she wasnt interested. She could just walk past you sometimes as well, when you were talking; just fucking walk past you. You could hardly credit it. I would just sit there but, saying nothing. Say nothing, I’d say to myself, just sit there, dont fucking say a word, cause you’ll regret it, just fucking sit there. And she’d walk past, walk right past, where you were sitting.

  Make you laugh so it would.

  Then that fucking telly! She’d have it blaring! Fucking blaring. I never watched it. Never! I never fucking watched it. Load of shite. I just used to sit there.

  Lassies right enough, sometimes I used to think of lassies. Couldnt help myself. I’d just be sitting there then all of a sudden I’m on a fucking beach! Or maybe just even walking down the road, a country lane, in the middle of summer. Anything. And there’s this lassie, what’s she doing? she’s just I dont know, just fucking walking maybe or something like that. And underneath her dress, a frock, underneath it, she’s no wearing fuck all – nothing, just her frock. And that’s no really got anything to do with it either because what I was thinking about I was just, it was the cloth, the way her skin just touched it, the actual cloth, the dress, you could just imagine it, the way her skin just touched it.

  What I liked but was the minis. She used to get onto me about it, as if I was doing something. But I wasnt doing anything. I was just fucking looking. And even then sometimes you werent even fucking looking, cause you got used to it. You’d hardly credit that but it’s true; when you think back; the way the minis were, and now they’re gone, and you try and mind what like it was and you cant, no really, you cant. Sometimes as well you’re seeing them on the box, old news programmes or that, and you sit back on your seat, Fuck sake, but you still cant mind, no really, what like it was, the way they were, in real life, what they actually looked like, seeing a lassie walking down the street.

  Where but what! I would just be sitting there, in a wee daze, a daydream. Where but what? Sudden, I would just think it.

  Naw, me and Billy, we were mates for years. Anyhow, aye, I always liked his missus. Nice looking so she was. When the minis were in she used to wear hers halfway up her arse. It annoyed him as well, it was funny. He kidded on he didnt mind but he fucking did, he did mind, he just kidded on he didnt. Sitting in the boozer maybe and in she’d come looking for him. See his face! A fucking picture. Made you laugh so it did, just seeing him. A cracking looking wee bird but, his missus. I mind too this fellow telling him that. Heh Bill, he says, quite the thing, That missus of yours, cracking looking wee bird. And Billy’s face! A fucking picture. The thing about her too, his wife, she never took any fucking notice. I mean the boozer, it’d be full of cunts, all staring at her, drooling – she never fucking noticed. No like mine. She’d have fucking noticed. Nothing surer. Makes you fucking angry as well, you’ve got to admit it. It annoys you. I used to, get annoyed; I used to get fucking annoyed, with her, the wife, she made me fucking angry. I used to get really fucking browned off – worse, worse, I mean worse than that, really fucking angry, it fucking

  The guy with the crutch

  A gangrenous patch on his right leg had resulted in amputation. The people at the hospital gave him a new one which he got used to quicker than most folk in the same predicament but something happened to this new limb and now he no longer had it. For a while he moved around as best he could, making do with a walking stick of sorts; but it was not easy and he was a guy who liked travelling about the place. One morning somebody found a broken crutch and gave him it and somebody else made a cross-spar and nailed it properly down for him. This meant he was back mobile again and he used to tell folk the crutch was as adequate as anything. But eventually he stopped telling them that and soon he stopped telling them anything at all. From then on, whenever I caught sight of him, he was carrying a plastic shopper that contained most of his possessions; usually he was trudg
ing to places over stretches of waste ground, although trudging is the wrong word because of having the crutch and so on he used to move in a rigorous and quite quick swinging motion.

  undeciphered tremors

  In the ensuing scramble the body will melt into undeciphered tremors, undeciphered in consequence of its having been laid to rest some time prior to the call. And the ‘call’ here must not be regarded as figurative; it will have proceeded from whence great difficulty is experienced in matters of prediction. You must also recall the state of non well-being which exists beforehand. It is certainly the case that one has to exercise caution in hazarding a judgment but nevertheless, nevertheless, I would say if you feel the need to leap then by all means leap.

  The wee boy that got killed

  He shouldnt’ve been at school. He was past fifteen, the same age as his da when he started work and he was ready, he knew he was ready. School was so terrible, beyond talking about, so terrible. In the history class he sat to the side of the room just keeping out of everything, not wanting to be bothered by any of them. None of it was funny at all, none of it, he just wanted away and out of it. A thing he did was stare at the desk, at a certain bit on the surface, maybe an initial, a drawing, or just a stain or blemish in the wood, just stare at it, trying to concentrate the mind right out and away. It was supposed to be possible to transfer your mind away to some different place altogether. His da told him criminals could do it, guys in jail, they could more or less transfer their mind away onto a different level; and old people did it as well, staring back into the past. Maybe some folk did it into the future like they said. Psychic powers. The line drifts out from your mind and you go onto a different level, another plane. The fourth dimension, you go through a time-warp, enter into a totally new world where everything’s totally different.

  Mister Chambers!

  Auld Doughball was looking down at him.

  Mister Chambers! Are you with us? Have you kindly consented to rejoin the fold? Mister Chambers, would you be so courteous as to indicate . . .

  What was he on about? Auld Doughball – this great big plook thing on the side of his neck and it wobbled when he spoke, the vibrations from his chin and his jaws.

  He just shouldnt’ve been at school and that was that, that was just really it, it was plain, plain, he shouldnt’ve been there. His da had started as an apprentice at this age. In less than a year he would be old enough to get married. Old enough to get married. Mr and Mrs Chambers. I shall take this woman as my lawful wedded wife. Tracy McCall! She really didnt fancy him but. She was in a different world. There were lies as well about her getting groped but they were lies. It made your belly turn over to even think about it. That was what they did but, the way they spoke about you. They did it with everybody. They just seemed to pick on a person and then that was that and you couldnt do anything about it. Mainly it was the lassies. They were saying about Tracy down the club you could just feel her tit and she would let you, she would kid on she wanted you to stop but didnt. They did it about anybody. The best thing was to kid on just that it didnt matter, you didnt hear it or something, just kid on you didnt hear anything and you didnt know anything about it. Lassies were like that in a way, they could start acting as if they didnt know a thing you were talking about. And it was best, it was really best.

  Mister Chambers?

  Yes Mister McDougall.

  Do you have a grandfather?

  Gary looked at him.

  Does Mister Chambers have a grandfather? Class?

  Auld Doughball. What was he on about with that stupid big plook on the side of his neck, he had a cheek to even speak. That sarcasm, it was really terrible. Sometimes you felt like fucking punching him right on the mouth the way he did it to you. A lot of it was the name, Mister Chambers. Other teachers as well, they loved to say it, just to say it in that really sarcastic way.

  Did you have a grandfather. What was that supposed to mean? It was history about the 2nd World War right enough so that’s probably what it was about, if he had a grandfather that was in it. 15 was a good age to start work. That was when his da started. And it wasnt just Gary thinking he was ready because so did his maw; and his da as well; the pair of them. He was actually bigger than his da – it was terrible saying it but he was. What age was his grandfather when he started? Maybe only fourteen. What his da was saying the other night, what was it? what his da was saying the other night, about nowadays the boys are all bigger but they’ve got to be younger. What was that? What did that mean? It was about them being bigger and having to stay on at school longer, to do with them no growing up or something because they dont do any work and just hang about and all that. His great-grandfather was thirteen. Thirteen years of age and out working six days a week. There was a photo of him as a boy and he was wearing a bunnet and his jacket was really tight. You could actually get married at thirteen in different parts of the world even just now. There was that new boy as well in 3c who got Lesley Denham pregnant. He was just turned fourteen and he didnt tell anybody, he just kept it to himself. A wee baby boy the lassie had and then the two of them got put into different schools. That would suit Gary, it’d be really brilliant, just getting sent to a different school away from everything. Except maybe he would end up in the same place as that guy who was after him. It was a stupid thing. In the Amusements and then just out of nothing and he had to get off his mark right away, and he was just on his own but the other guy had a couple of mates and it would’ve been trouble. Gary didnt want to fight him. It was stupid. He didnt like fighting anyway. Except sometimes, sometimes there was that tingle.

  The desks!

  Auld Doughball sitting on the edge of his stool, making a big show of watching the time then calling: Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, late as usual . . . Now just walk, just walk . . .

  RRrrrinnggggg.

  Hey Chanty! It was Smit.

  Gary glared at him and he whispered, Shut your fucking mouth you.

  Smit laughed.

  Gary’s face had gone red and he punched Smit hard on the shoulder. I told you before, dont you fucking call me that.

  Aw come on you! Smit had stepped back and was rubbing his shoulder.

  Give us a fag! said Gary.

  I’ve no got any . . . Smit was still wincing and rubbing the shoulder.

  Fucking liar! Gary turned away from him, continued along the corridor and down the stairs, banging against the tiled wall with his left shoulder on each successive step. The rest of the class were ahead now, a few of the guys going fast toward the back of the toilets for a quick drag. Gary glanced behind.

  Smit stopped walking at once and called: You going for a smoke?

  I thought you didnt have any fags!

  I’ve no.

  Fucking liar! Gary grabbed him by the wrist. Who’s got them then?

  Big Hammy, he’s got twenty.

  Twenty?

  He might give us one.

  How do you know he’s got twenty?

  I saw them.

  Liar!

  I’m no; honest.

  Gary strode on through the swing doors and out across the playground, Smit coming several paces behind him. It was mobbed at the back of the toilets. Between there and the back of the school wall there was a gap of about 6 feet. On top of the wall were layers and layers of black grease which the janitors put down to stop people climbing over. Gary pushed his way through the different groups, seeing Big Hammy and the guys about halfway along. Smit was already in at a group and a guy was letting him have a drag but without leaving go the fag so that Smit wasnt even able to get a proper hold on it. Gary got in nearer to Big Hammy and he jerked his head at the cigarette he was smoking: Eh Hammy, any chance of a fag?

  A fag! Big Hammy grinned, giving a look of surprise, but got him one out, and added, Dont say I’m no good to you.

  You still owe me a million!

  That’ll be fucking right!

  Gary borrowed another guy’s cigarette to get a
light for his own. Smit was in the background now, peering over somebody’s shoulder and making a sign which Gary kidded on he didnt see, and he said to Big Hammy: Were you out last night?

  Nah.

  Did you watch the game on the telly?

  Big Hammy shook his head briefly. Then he smiled and poked one of the boys next to Gary. If it’s your fucking birthday the morrow how come you’re no having a party? Eh? Big Hammy laughed at the others: I bet ye he hardly even gets a fucking bevy!

  You kidding! said the guy.

  We’ll see, said Big Hammy.

  Gary was blowing out smoke, he shut his eyes for a split second, getting that lightheaded feeling. Somebody else was saying something about the football match being played tonight, and another guy was nipping his cigarette and sticking it away and then one by one the others were finishing their smokes. On the way back he tagged behind a bit, traversing the playground in a sort of arc and making it last into the science block. Smit was by the foot of the staircase and he called. You’re going to be late!

  Gary didnt acknowledge him. Smit waited and when the other passed him by to walk upstairs he whispered, You dogging it this afternoon Gary?

  But Gary didnt acknowledge this either. He continued walking. It was pointless encouraging Smit or you never got rid of him. At one time he spoke ordinary to him but it wasnt worth it because all he did was talk nonstop and as well as that he was always there, you couldnt get rid of him. Even at the house; he used to come up for Gary at 8 o’clock in the morning. A right idiot. He wasnt really bad, not totally bad, it was just Gary couldnt be bothered having to listen to people, it got on your nerves. And then as well having them beside you all the time, sitting at the same desk for instance, really terrible, an uncomfortable feeling, no being able to move about, having to watch your elbows, keeping them in, and your knees, having to keep them in as well in case they banged into them. Sometimes just hearing them breathe was enough. You were working away and it was silence and then you heard them breathing, and sometimes their nose, you wanted to tell them to blow their nose. Even lassies, their noses sometimes, you could hear them, no blowing them till the very last minute. It was a wonder how they did that. How did they no just blow them straight away? Unless they didnt have a hanky. And no having pockets either a lot of them, just their bags full of stuff. Sometimes you kicked it and you’d see all the piles of stuff come tumbling out, and packets of pads. That was a thing he would have hated, being a lassie, terrible. Getting periods, the blood coming out; it was caused by eggs, once they were pregnant they were fertilized. Just thinking about it was enough. And some husbands stayed in to watch the birth as well. You saw the baby covered in a jelly stuff, the face all wrinkled and purple looking and crying away unless it wasnt right and had to get smacked first by the doctor.