“You fucking cunt.” He said as though it were a term of an endearment. He smiled at her, teeth yellowed and jagged. “Don’t you fucking give me that tone.” She retorted with her raspy Scottish accent. The day was cloudy and cold in the busy shopping district. Rory and Maggie didn’t exactly fit in. Business men and women in suits, gaudy jewelry, and done up hair. Healthy, fit, and some gluttonous. There stood Rory, tall and unhealthily skinny, not that you could tell with his big baggy jacket on. Holed and stained with God only knows what. Skinny jeans with black and white stripes, also holed to all hell. Chucks so worn that anytime he walked through the snow his feet got wet. His eyes were bright red and he never really stopped squinting. “You are not fucking doing it! I fucking forbid it!” Maggie yelled as she smacked him on the shoulder as hard as she could. “Come on, Maggie. I’m practically doing them a fucking service.” He laughed, though he truly believed in his own junkie logic. Maggie laughed back at him not so confident. “How the fuck do you figure that?” “Look at all these fucking wankers Maggie. Take a good look at them.” He stopped a man wearing an expensive watch. “Excuse me sir, can you tell me what time it is?” “Why would I know, get off the shit crackie.” “Sorry for the bother sir.” He smiled at the man’s back. “You see that Maggie? That man was wearing a 3,000 quid Tag Huer. Barely fucking knows he even has it on.” “So fucking what? What are you on about?” She seemed slightly agitated. “I’m doing them a bloody favor by making them see their money can disappear at any fucking moment. That their materialism doesn’t count for shit. I bet 99% of these sheep are God fearing tossers. Yet they’re all stuck in this existential downward spiral of trying to find some sort fucked up purpose in money and possession. Jesus would be fucking disgusted with this lot of cunts. Jesus was fucking communist baby!” He seemed so proud of his philosophical revelation. “Eh?” “Don’t you fucking get? I’m humbling the righteous fucks. Making the space between us a wee bit smaller… I need a fucking drag.” He stops another man. “Oi, mate. Spare a fag?” The man hands him a cigarette without a word giving Rory a dirty look as he walks off. “Thanks mate.” Rory calls at him. The man waves without turning around. “None of that even made sense.” Maggie retorts bringing the conversation back. “Fine, we need the fucking money for the bloody smack. Jesus Christ.” Pulling the cigarette to his cracked lips and taking a drag. He finished the cig and flicked the butt. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small mint case but mints aren’t what it was used for. Though you wouldn’t know at first glance. Rory pulled out a small white tab. “Gimme your bloody tongue.” He said to her and she smiled back and obliged. He placed the white tab on her tongue. She pulled it in but he kissed her intensely and when he let go he stuck his tongue out to reveal the pill. “See you on the other side”. He winked at her and the space to his target shrunk as tunnel vision took effect. “AAAAAAAAAGGGHHH!” He ran off at full speed across the street and through the double doors to a high end clothing store. Maggie stared and contemplated how much she loved Rory as his screams came faintly filled the space. “Get on the fucking ground! Everyone fucking one of you!” He yelled and she stared dreamily at the store in chaos. BANG! BANG! BANG! Shots rang out and she knew he was the one.
Normally my stories are completely the other way around. Thought I would kind of let loose on this one.
ok. Well,i just think stories are more entertaining to read without it. I guess just a matter of opinion. Hakuna Mattata.
I mean it's not as though I'm cursing in the narrative it's just a character trait. I sorts of a dichotomy between his self righteousness and the fact that he still just a fucking junkie.