7 October
Whoa, okay then. V for Viagra.
While unexpected, this also makes sense, given that the drug’s side effects include a flushed face and indigestion. Not to mention the fact that my Mr Gaviscon was almost permanently rock-hard between the sheets. Never thought to question this at the time, because it was so very convenient and complimentary.
What cost Scott his mojo in the first place? Still don’t understand what he means by The Demon.
The ambulance has come to rest outside Asda in the Marina for our half-hour break. By now, I should have confronted Tyler about my renewed suspicion that he’s sneakily taking photos of things he absolutely must not… but I’ve been too distracted by Scott’s diary.
Alone in the driver’s seat while Tyler shops for his latest unhealthy lunch in the supermarket, I’m about to open the next diary entry, Burning New Pathways Into The Brain, when I hear the tinkle of an unusual phone notification.
Once I’ve ruled out Scott’s handset and my Nokia, all that remains is Tyler’s phone, which he’s left behind on the dashboard. Having checked that Tyler is nowhere in sight, I pick up the handset, because, hey, I’m Kate Collins and this is what I do.
A pop-up notice on Tyler’s screen declares, Way to go, dude! Your upload to SikkFuxx.com has been approved.
Hoping that Tyler’s screen will auto-darken ASAP, I replace the handset where it was on the dash. Back on Scott’s phone, I fire up his browser and zip over to SikkFuxx.com.
The site is very much what its charming URL suggested it would be. Pictures and videos of terrorist executions, animal slaughter, queasily violent sex and even worse. Clicking the Latest Sikk Uploads tab, I’m shocked, but not entirely surprised, to see a close-up photo of poor dead Doug in his car on the A23, uploaded by user Grenadier666.
Oh, and here’s a six-second clip of a newborn baby, still in its amniotic sac.
Here’s a video of Deranged Naked Guy invading our ambulance, plus imagery from various other sensationalist scenes from long before Tyler and I teamed up.
What an utterly reprehensible sack of shit. No way am I going to turn my back on this. Tyler is toast.
The passenger door opens to reveal the fuckwit himself, his carrier bag no doubt full of sugar-and-salt-based products, plus the wrong sandwich for me.
I should knock his wig off right now with some serious abuse. And yet I tell myself I’ll do this later, because we still have ten minutes of our break left. Ten minutes that I need for another purpose. My so-called partner’s comeuppance can wait.
Chowing down beside me, Tyler has the sheer unbridled nerve to comment on how obsessed I am with my phone. I roundly disregard him, because Burning New Pathways Into The Brain is already drawing me in like a Dyson.