He stepped over the outline at the bottom of Sid’s bed.
“Sorry about that,” he said.
“My mum’s raging. She’s talking about getting a whole new carpet. Even though it’s been rife with jizz stains for years.”
One white arm was stretched out.
They sat on the couch. Sid took the ARMY OF DARKNESS video box from the window ledge and started building. “Good party but. Fadge says his ribs are buggered and he can’t breathe properly. He’s got a big carpet burn down one side of his face, like fuckin’ – what’s his name.”
“Is that why we’re not practising?”
Sid shook his head. “My mum banned us. Since the house got trashed.”
“Should I go?”
“Nah. She likes you for some reason. Fadge is forbidden – that’s what she said, but she called him Gordon.”
Nicky nodded. The drum kit had been left in a mess in the corner of the room, drums stacked on each other and cymbals balanced on top. “How come Shanks came?” he said.
“Bastard knew he wasn’t invited. Annie says he wanted to apologise.”
“Annie did?”
Sid concentrated on the joint. When the hash was heated and crumbled into the tobacco he said, “By the way, I got us a gig at the scout hall. Headline slot.”
Nicky picked up the lighter and flicked it a couple of times. The flame wouldn’t catch. “Have we got enough songs?”
“Aye. We have.”
“I only know about three.”
“We’ve a couple of weeks, man.”
Sid licked the joint and sealed it, scraping a few brown strands off his tongue. He started a CD with the remote, sat back and sparked up. “Never headlined before. Once we’ve done that we’ll gig in town no bother.”
They were watching themselves in the mirrored wardrobe. Nicky poked his fingers through his hair and pushed it up. “Think I’d suit your hairdo?”
“If you weren’t going bald, aye.”
“Get lost. I’m not.”
“You just got a massive forehead?”
He held his hair back tight and brushed it flat again. “I’m not.”
“Shave it all off man. You’d look quality.”
Nicky took the lighter, trying again to get it lit.
“Don’t wear the flint out,” Sid said, eyes closed.
He put it back on the table and picked up a CD case. There was a cartoon weasel on the cover, wearing a leather jacket, cigarette dangling out its mouth. SCREECHING WEASEL it said across the top. He flipped the lid, closed it and put it back.
Sid watched through slit eyes. “What d’you think, man?”
“What?”
“The CD. It’s on the now.”
Nicky listened for a second. “It’s awright.”
“Just awright?”
“D’you like it?”
“I’m asking you.”
He thought about it. “It’s good.”
“They’re total rip off merchants but.”
“S’pose.”
“I love it though.”
“Yeah.”
“By that I mean it’s a load of shit,” Sid said. “I hate it.”
Nicky reached for the case again.
Sid grinned. “I’m winding you up Messiah. Say what you think. Don’t just go along with a daft arsehole like me.”
Nicky nodded. “Okay.”
“There’s good shit and there’s bad shit. And there’s in between shit.” He sighed. His eyes were closed again. Between smokes he aimed the tip at an ashtray sitting by his side, ash flaking all over the couch.
Nicky asked him, “How long’ve you and Fadge been mates?”
“Years, man. Hated the big goon when I first met him.”
“Has Annie always hung about as well?”
“When she got a bit older. But she used to look totally different.”
“How come?”
Sid opened his eyes and ran the earring through his ear, smoke trailing around his head. “I dunno man. She wasn’t like one of us lot. She had this long hair and dressed pure different. Wee skirts and white tights. But she was dead young, it was all wrong. Then one time she tagged along with Fadge to a party here, her hair all chopped off. Dyed n’shit.”
“Seems like a good laugh.”
Sid took a couple of deep draws, then tapped the joint tip down, killing the smoke and slotting the remainder in the ashtray. He sat forward and said. “I think it’s time for the main attraction.” He reached under the couch and brought out a shoe box.
“What is it?”
“Wait and see man.”
He lifted the lid. There was a pair of crumpled school shoes. The slip-on kind with no laces. He dug beneath them, under a layer of balled-up tissue paper and took out a video. No labels. He handed Nicky the box and slid on his knees in front of the wee TV. When he came back he aimed the controller. The screen fuzzed and hissed.
“You need to see this.”
He flipped a panel on the remote and the video started.
“This bit goes on for ages.”
Lines zig-zagged across. He tapped again and the picture slowed. Sid nudged him. His legs spread and one knee rested against Nicky’s thigh. The picture froze.
“What d’you think of Pammy?”
“What?”
“Pammy man, d’you like her?”
Nicky shrugged. “S’pose so.”
Sid turned, their heads close on the couch. When he grinned, his cheeks folded over, deep dimples like gills. “Remember her video?”
Sid got the picture moving again. Grainy pink filled the TV. There was a couple on the screen. She had the camera.
“The Wizard got me it,” he said. “He’s a pure pervert.”
Sid thumbed the volume button. The green bar appeared, flashing over the penis filling the screen, pumping in and out of Pammy. He held it until two notches were left and you could barely hear them grunting and gasping and the filthy words. You couldn’t see the tip but it was huge, inches of flesh with muscle and veins clumped underneath. Did other people, folk like Danny Donnelly or Mack, did they go around with cocks so colossal?
Nicky held the shoebox with both hands. He hugged it into his lap. “How long does it go on for?”
“I dunno, man. Never made it the whole way through.”
Sid’s knee still dug into his thigh. Screeching Weasel played on the stereo. He looked away at the mirror and saw the reflection of skeleton poster, laughing through its smashed-up grin.