Stewart Grimme chortled down his cornflakes with a gusto he hadn’t known since borstal. He deserved those crisp golden flakes, doused liberally in semi-skimmed and lightly sugared to sensory perfection – it had been quite a night, after all. A couple of frames of pool followed by gang-rape in the car park; what better way to get back into the swing of the working week than that?
He looked at the severed head that had been left on the table in front of him. Female, apparently. It must have been Derek, or Bobby, or Wills, or Jacko. Those guys… crazy one and all! Whose was the head, though? As Stewart looked at it, deeply, his little blue eyes darting from ear to ear, munching slowly on his breakfast, milk liberally spilling from bottom lip and down chin, he tried to think back to the actions of the previous night. It wasn’t easy seeing anything through the haze of WKDs he’d put back – two for one.
He had joked around, had a sing-song to the Quo, lost at pool twice but won three times and then raped poor Suzie Dire over the bonnet of Jacko’s Capri.
Of course. Suzie Dire.
She didn’t look much like Suzie Dire and had clearly been given a bit of rough and tumble by the lads. Par for the course with a gang rape, he reckoned. What a scorcher of a night, he thought, and felt a bit of a stirring in his boxer shorts.
Who had cut the head off, though, he couldn’t remember for the life of him. He’d have to whack a quick text off to the lads and get to the bottom of it. It was a totally mad joke, and that was all of them to a tee – mad. A bit crazy, off the wall. The old class of 96, never growing up, still playing the field in the old hometown.
It was truly glorious to be alive, he thought, slurping the last of the milk from the deep white cereal bowl he had picked up in Sainsbury’s. With friends like I’ve got who even needs any other friends? Who even needs to leave town, to try new things? It’s all here! We’re always having a laugh! Ha ha ha! Always! We’re cards, cads, cunts, crazygood! Fucking YES!
He smiled and stood up, placing the bowl in the dishwasher and giving Suzie’s blood-matted hair a little stroke. Wonder where the body is, he thought, pulling at the nubbin of his cock, so tiny and offensive. Wouldn’t mind another go on that one, went like the clappers she did.
He grabbed his new Nokia 3.2 megapixel from the top of the fridge. No new messages. Those crazy fuckers must be pulling the sicky. Why not? We’re young, free, and mad, after all, isn’t it! He started composing a message and went into the front room.
Where he found all of his friends severed heads.
There was Derek, scalped and nasty.
There was Bobby, no eyes left.
There was Wills, razor-sliced cheeks.
There was Jacko, car keys just glistening at the back of his throat.
Oh shit, thought Stewart, tossing his phone onto the couch, then picking it up and placing it more carefully on the coffee table. He sat down between the heads of Derek and Bobby and drummed his fingers on them.
This is totally wacky, he thought. Nuts’n’bonkers! These guys. He pulled down his pants and felt a little tearful.
I mean, who was he gonna go out with tonight?
Fuck it, this is always happening and it always works out. Nothing to get down about. He was a great guy, crazy, a bit of a wildnut.
He started to thrust his cock into Derek’s mouth, the tip jabbed unnervingly out of the severed neck.
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