by Gary Davison
The goosebumps drained from my face down through my body.
Amber clung to me as the four of us formed a silver scrum.
“You ok?” I asked her.
“I’m not sure, I’m not sure, it’s good, it’s good, I’m not sure.”
“First one takes it out of you,” Cam said. “The next will be the best feeling you ever had, my friend.”
“Fucking class or what?” Gregg said, pulling us all closer together.
I don’t know how long that first rush lasted, but it sapped everything out of Amber and me. We kept hold of each other, heads bowed together, stroking our own faces and neck, letting the feeling run through us.
Everything went quiet around us.
A voice echoed through a megaphone: “Marasa 69! Freedom! Justice! Peace!”
The roar of the crowd from somewhere behind us was followed by heavy drums and air horns as the parade got underway. Amber and I stood together like a boulder caught in rapids as everyone surged past us.
Gregg and Cam came back for us.
It was ten deep leading up to East Road and we could only see flashes of the parade passing between buildings. I kept tight hold of Amber and we made for the square, then up onto East Road. We were about five from the front, everyone pushing and shoving, trying to get closer, before we saw the procession. A King Kong sized Lone Ranger wearing a studded dog collar, with three stone goddesses on clouds, either side. This was by far the biggest and best trailer we’d seen. It must have been over twenty-feet high and half the width of the road.
The people riding the trailer were dressed as super heroes and villains. Batmans and Robins, Superman, The Penguin, and they were going crazy, hanging right over the sides and pulling hysterical people aboard. The only ones acting with any dignity were the King and Queen at the very front, with their handheld masks, elegantly waving to the crowd. The earlier parades had joined the back and The Tractor Boys were drowning out everything else.
Amber’s eyes were wild and black, her lips bright red. “We’ve got to get something!” she yelled. “Come on!”
We were front row now, in line with the Marasa Pride banner, held aloft by two men dressed as Wonder Woman.
I tried everything to get them to throw me something, but I wasn’t getting noticed at all. Silver and naked was the norm here.
Amber was having no joy either, but she was determined. After another blank she pushed passed a policeman, dipped under the guide rope and screamed at Batman. The masked crusader looked down at her and she whipped her vest off and offered up her tits. He beckoned her over, and she jumped up and collected something from him.
She pushed her way out, screaming for me. I guided her to safety and she opened her palm to reveal a gold coin with two bare-chested masked men on one side, Marasa Stone 69 around the edge, and Fat Tuesday on the other side. Freedom, Justice, Peace on the rim.
“Spence!” Cam yelled. “Quick!”
We zigzagged towards him.
The main parade had passed and the big screen in the square was now showing The Lone Ranger heading down Riverside Road and Gregg was being hugged and kissed aboard the Marasa 69 trailer. His green wig bobbing through the super heroes like a static balloon.
We chased after them down the bank, under the flyover and onto Riverside Road. Gregg appeared at the back wearing a red and gold fur trimmed crown and matching cloak. He shook his staff at us, before being dragged away.
“What the fuck?” I said, hands on knees.
Amber flopped over my back. “H-how did he manage that?”
We started back up the hill.
“You know what a greedy sod he is,” Cam panted. “Well, they were giving these cakes out at the front.”
“King Cakes?” Amber said.
“Must be. Anyway, he takes two, scoffs one and bites into the other, spits it into his hand and picks out this little white doll. The woman giving the cakes out grabs hold of him and drags him away.”
“Must be a prize for getting it,” I said. “I wonder if he gets anything else?’
“He’ll be hoping for more cake,” Amber said.
We stopped for a breather just down from the stone arch that led back to the campsite.
“You’ve got a great pair of tits, Amber,” Cam said, leaning against the wall. “No wonder you got that coin.”
Amber leant into me, slightly turning her back to Cam. “And they’re all yours,” she said, pushing me into the doorway.
Kissing frantically, I spun her and slammed her against the shop door. She wrapped her legs around my waist and I forced myself hard up against her. She tore my shorts down past my knees and I yanked hers to one side…
Cam was nudging me in the back. “Spence. Spence!
The police are four steps away and counting.”
Amber lowered her feet to the floor and we straightened ourselves out and walked up the bank.
Cam was talking but I wasn’t listening. All I wanted was to get Amber into the tent.
Before I knew what was happening, the three of us were walking along the straw track and Amber was on her knees cuddling Teatime. Shit! I wanted to be alone with her, spend the rest of the night in the tent.
“Told you it made you horny,” Cam said, sitting crossed legged, knocking up.
“You’re not kidding.”
I guzzled half-a-litre of water and smoked a joint with Cam while Amber was sorting herself out. I expected her in jeans and t-shirt, baseball cap back on. Opportunity gone.
Our tent door opened and Amber was kneeling up, wearing only black knickers. She slowly raised her index finger and I was summoned.
17
The big wheel over next to the Tarstan River started to turn and a huge cheer went up. Amber and I got some clothes on and came out.
Amber lit us both a smoke and we downed a bottle of water between us.
I’d bitten away all the inside of one cheek and began chewing on the other.
The campsite had a thick layer of grey smoke, just above head height, blowing over it and it stank of burning hay or some other farm shit. Just about every tent had a ghetto blaster on full tilt and a couple of steps either way and you’d be listening to a different tune.
Cam was talking to a Goth, who had a sign outside her tent saying ‘The Devil Loves’; the L of love was painted red with blood drops pooling beneath it.
Amber and I grabbed a towel each and made our way to the toilet block to get cleaned up. There were no showers, but we managed to scrub most of the silver off.
I had no real buzz now, just loads of energy.
When we came back, Cam was sat stroking Teatime, knocking up. Amber bent down and kissed him. “Still having a good time?”
He glanced up long enough to cop another smacker of Amber.
Amber went back inside to get ready and I sat next to Cam.
He gave me the joint and started making another.
I’ll tell you one thing about being on E: you’re constantly active. There’s no down time or chilling out. For me it was smoking, drinking water and pacing around in a small area never too far from the tent. For Cam, knocking joints up and talking to groups of people. Any groups. He’d just head over to total strangers and start cracking on, nothing was a problem. His little outings usually ended with hugs and kisses, and he was back, singing the praises of the people he’d met and telling us their business.
Amber was all lovey. Apart from being stuck to me and constantly glossing her lips, she felt the need to kiss Cam, which of course I had no problem with, every time she clapped eyes on him. On his return from the toilet, he was cuddled and kissed and given water and guided to a comfortable patch of grass to sit on. Her mothering instincts were on overdrive and all our clothes were neatly folded in the tent. Teatime was full and content at our feet.
It had been a couple of hours since we’d seen Gregg and we were taking it in shifts to stand on the straw track and keep a look out. As time got on, we started to seriously worry that some
thing was amiss. That was until Cam shouted us up onto the track.
“Check this out,” he said, pointing.
I squinted at the figure blazing a trail towards us, forcing people off the side of the track. “Is that a lass with him?”
“It’s a little’n if it is.”
Gregg’s fur crown was cocked to one side, his cloak wafting up behind him as he strode towards us. His gut wobbled with every step and the girl he was dragging along was doing four steps to his one by the look of it. Any faster and she’d be on her back, heels scraping the ground as The King dragged home the day’s catch.
On reaching us, he gave us a twirl. “They insisted on painting The King gold, it’s tradition.” He babbled on about the ceremony, sweating like fuck, arms all over, still holding onto the girl. “Eh, this is Dewy.”
“Julie, cheeky.” The little Asian girl broke free and shook our hands. “Shall we?” she said to Gregg.
“Oh, yes.”
We followed them back to the tents.
Without another word, Gregg drove his staff into the ground, hung his cloak and crown on it, unzipped his tent and showed the girl in.
I swear it was like a cartoon scrap in there, arms and legs bulging the tent, ‘Ooooing’ and ‘Aaaaring’ like they were treading hot coals. “Ah yes… aaaah that’s it… fucking hell… aah yes, fucking hell… aaaaah… fucking hell… go on…”
“Have you h-heard him?” Cam managed, holding onto me.
“Aaaaah… fucking hell… Jesus… aaaah…”
The fracas only lasted a couple of minutes.
We were just recovering when the girl’s head popped out and honest to God it wasn’t the same person: massive hair, scarlet face and tiny red tits. “You haven’t got a ciggie, have you?”
That did me right in and I rolled into a ball laughing so hard I nearly spewed. I straightened up for a second and saw the Pekinese face and cave woman hair and was over again, begging for mercy.
The gold beachball emerged over the top and finished us off. “Make a joint, man, it’s hard graft being The King.”
By the time we had recovered, Gregg and Julie were sitting in front of us smoking. Life would have been so much easier if either of them had changed their appearance, but The King was sat there like a gold Buddha and Julie was merrily chuffing away with her little red tits on show. Every time Cam looked up he lost it big time.
Julie pointed at me for about the tenth time. “So you’re, Spence, and you’re…”
“Caaaaaam – I’m sorry.”
“And…”
“Amber.”
Gregg went back inside and Cam wandered off, claiming he needed the toilet.
Julie was a great laugh and had us enthralled with tales of festivals she had been to and her methods of pulling men. Without any shame, she told us that Gregg was number three this weekend and was definitely the best, but a bit rough.
“I put that down to the doves though,” she said, disappearing behind a mushroom of smoke. “They make me randy as hell, so lads must be bursting on them.”
“Doves?” Cam said, sitting back down.
“Yeah, you not had any doves? See Arthur, he swapped me two for two Harry Potters. It’ll not do me any harm to keep off them for a while, I’ll miss all the bands at this rate.”
“Oh, Arthur!” Cam shouted.
“Anyway, I best get back, the girls will be worried. We’re over there in line with the house if you want to call over later.”
There was another quick scuffle in the tent before she left.
“Oh, Arthur.”
Gregg lumbered out and stretched, his nasty blue underpants riding up his arse, showing the great white-gold divide.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said, “she was a right little raver.”
Gregg had been doing some wheeling and dealing, and had decided we were heavy on uppers and light on downers, so he swapped some E for a quarter of skunk and some Temazepan. He was standing proud in his cloak and crown, hands on hips, checking the rest of the campsite out.
“Every time I talk to someone they offer me something for nothing, Spence. And there are guaranteed privileges being King.”
“Like what?”
“I can’t remember everything but I definitely get on the rides for nothing, it’s unreal – no sooner do I stand still and I’m surrounded, have one of these, take one of those, bottles of water. That’s how I pulled little Dewy. She dropped a dove in my mouth when I lifted her up for a kiss.”
“You’ve had doves already?” Cam said. “How many? And where are ours?”
“Simmer. I’ve had one.”
“How many?”
“One dove and two bombs. I swear that’s it,” hands up, “and I’ve got plenty for us, two ticks.”
Gregg pulled a small plastic bag from his cloak and handed us each a white tablet.
“Dancey as fuck these. I must have lost two stone marching around and doing my duty as King between the sheets. Did I tell you about Dewy on the waltzer? She’s a right little raver.”
“I’m not taking any more,” Amber said. “This is our first time and we’ve already had one and loads of smoke.”
Cam washed his down. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t have any more after this.”
“What’s the chances of OD’ing on these?” I asked.
“They can catch up with you, but a couple’s fine, Spence, just don’t have any more.”
Amber and I weren’t sure what to do, so I took the two tablets and put them in my pocket for later.
Gregg mumbled something and staggered towards me.
“Here… I’ve got you,” I said, lowering him to the ground.
Cam removed his cloak and crown, and he lay with his head in Amber’s lap and she stroked his hair. His eyes flickered, then rolled back, leaving the bloodshot whites. I gently poured some water in his mouth but it spilled back out.
Cam beckoned me over to Gregg’s tent.
“Have you seen this?” he said, opening the cloak.
It was like a medicine cabinet: brown bottles, a blue bottle, skunk, white and brown tablets, brown capsules and white powder.
After sniffing and tasting the contents of one of the opaque bottles, Cam held it between his thumb and index finger and said, “This is GHB, I’m sure of it.”
“What’s GHB?”
“Liquid E. And this little one’s poppers. I’m confiscating the lot. He’ll OD, Spence. Liquid E hits you in minutes, so he’s probably been topping himself up with rushes all afternoon. Here, you take the poppers and GHB and I’ll take the rest.”
I stuffed them into my pockets and turned around. Amber was still nursing Gregg.
I had a drink of water, sparked a smoke up, and walked up onto the straw track with Teatime.
The sun was a fireball spreading across the skyline; above it, the sky was clear blue, above that, the sparse clouds were tinged with red, giving the effect of a blue mountain with red peaks. I lifted my face up, expecting to feel its warmth, but the temperature was dropping.
The campsite was starting to empty.
I could hear faint screams coming from the big wheel.
I watched two girls, goths or hippies with long pleated black dresses and long black hair, argue over a multi-coloured scarf.
I went back to the tents.
Gregg was jaw wobbling, one story mixing into another. Eventually he lost it all together and got upset. “I love you all, you know. I’d be lost without you.”
Amber cuddled and kissed him, then Cam and finally me.
The roller coaster he was riding suddenly hit a high and he jumped up and grabbed his cloak. “What the fuck we doing sitting here? Are we going to party or what? Shit! Hold on.” He dashed in and out of his tent. “There are loads of police down on the main street so I got you these.” He held up three masks.
“What are they?” I asked, taking one.
“Michael Hutchence face masks.”
“I thought he died?”
/> “Tribute band. He’s massive over here. Got them for $2 each.”
We all declined his offer, pulled our Zorro masks on and made for the stone arch.
Gregg was adamant he was going over to the big wheel. He’d been there earlier and there were rides, a dance tent, the bands and the bungee jump, and, as King, he’d probably get on for nothing. We kissed him off, agreeing to meet at Alexanders in the town square in an hour.
The atmosphere in the square was much more chilled than earlier. Without the craziness of the parades, people were happy to be in one place, getting pissed and having a good time. We queued outside the tall, tinted glassed front of Alexanders. There were four bouncers in black suits and red bowties on the door. From what I could see, it didn’t look too busy inside, with most people getting served and coming back out.
We edged past the bouncers and Cam went straight over to some lads he’d met earlier, and I made for the bar and ordered us a Jager Bomb each. It was dark inside, low ceilings, lots of standing room, and, at the back, some tan leather armchairs next to an unlit open fire.
While I was waiting, I watched a couple at the end of the bar get a bottle of champagne in a silver ice bucket. They excitedly chinked champagne flutes and downed the first glass in one. I dipped into my pockets to see if I had enough cash to copy. No cash. Not a penny – I’d given it all to Kyle at the Trinity. I dashed back to Amber, got some money and ordered the champers.
When I returned, Cam was in a deep conversation with a dark haired lad next to the fruit machine and Amber was watching, expecting some activity any second. We dusted off the champagne and got another bottle, with an extra glass for Cam’s mate.
An hour later, Amber and I were pissed and all over each other, close to consummating our relationship for the second time in the day. Cam broke us up and I staggered through the now heaving crowd towards the bar.
Standing there, I turned and looked through the bobbing heads trying to see Amber. 50 Cent’s In Da Club was blasting out of a speaker right next to my head. I ordered the champagne and kept looking.
The young barmaid tapped my arm and mumbled something about going downstairs. I nodded and stood up on the bar footrest, trying to find Amber. I was about to ditch the drinks order and head over when I saw her come out of the toilets. I waved but she couldn’t see. I stepped down and waited for the champagne.
