Weegie Wolf?

The eegit bit me.

Ah had bin on the scrounge for some hash tae tide me over ‘til Ah could get mah next script of Methadone. Ah had heard Wee Tam had a stash of cheap gear in Maryhill. Ah wis stayin'' at Dennistoun, in mah pal’s flat jist aff The Parade (Alexanra Parade), which wisnae too far away frae Maryhill tae be fair. Ah had been clean for aboot 10 weeks an' counting an' wis determined tae beat this disease. Ah jist needed something tae take the sweats an’ jitters aff. It wid take a long time, but Ah had a sponsor an' had bin attending meetings an' like frae the get-go.

According tae Mick, mah sponsor Ah wis the poster child of recovery. Whatever the hell that meant. Glesga, Ah guess is known for it’s drug problems…alang wae fried food, good music, an' architecture. Billy Connolly famously once said “The great thing about Glasgow is that if there's a nuclear attack it'll look exactly the same afterwards.” He’s no wrong, yee know. A fair bit has bin done for the city over the years since Ah wis a wean, but it’s still the same old city. Same old dirty city that is hame tae some of the scummiest people in the world.

It's goat its fair share of greats, mind. But the bad eggs bring the rest of us doon. Aye, Ah’m including mahself among the greats. Like mah sponsor said, “poster child of recovery”. No bad for a 29-year-old junkie who up until recently had naething goin’ for him.

Maryhill isnae the best place in the world…Ah will prolly get a doin’ for sayin' this but it’s a bit of a dive. But Wee Tam is wan of the good wans. He’s not involved in any o’ that child trafficking that keeps hittin’ the headlines. Jist a wee bit of hashish an' some Eckies. Ah don’t really like spending time wae him, mind, as Ah try tae stay away frae the dealers, as best ah can, but Ah’m desperate.

Ah get oaf at the stoap jist alang frae his close an' walk alang tae the buzzer. He disnae answer, but that’s often cos he’s as high as a kite on Friday nights. Ah press the next wan doon an' the buzzer goes on the security door.

Nae lift in this old close, so Ah need tae make mah wae up several flights of stairs tae his hoose. Yee can practically smell the weed frae outside his door. These closes ha' bin here for pure ages, but the doors are crap. Ah gee the door a chap, doin’ wan of those pure dead funny chaps we a' dae. Tap-tappy-tap-tap, tap-tap or some pish like that. Nae answer.

Come on, Tam, where the hell are yee? Ah mutter under mah breath, as Ah feel the itches increasing. Ah try chapping the letterbox tae nae avail. Ah decide tae leave him ah wee note wae mah name an' number on it. As Ah stick it through the letterbox, mah fingers feel that weird fluffy crap ye get inside them, then something that feels like needles intae mah fingers. SCRATCH!

Whit the…ah, ya wee bastart. Ah yell at the cat or dug that’s on the other side of the door an' quickly pull mah hawn oot.

Ah’m mare than a wee bit shocked as ah look at mah hawn unner the light of the close. Ah cannae see much but little furry claws stuck in mah fingers an' the area roond them is pure dead reed an' bulging. Ah need tae get sum fresh air, so bolt it doon the stairs as fast as ah can an' head back intae the night tae the bus stoap.

Ah tug at the claws in mah fingertips, but they don’t budge easily. Ah pull an' pull as ah sit at the shelter of the bus stoap. It takes me aboot three tries on the pinkie tae pull the claw oot. Ah for the name of…Ah groan out loud, hushing mahself as the wee old hen sitting next tae me gies me the dirtiest of looks. “Sorry, missus” Ah apologise as Ah try pulling the other claws oot. Each hurtin’ mare than the wan afore.

Ah didnae even know Wee Tam had a cat. He cannae look efter himself, never mind a wee flea-carrying ratcatcher.

When the bus pulls up, ah let the old dear get on first an' then follow her, takin a seat at the back. It wis a quiet night so there wis nae wee idiots tae annoy me. Ah looked at mah phone. Aye, ah had a phone. It wis wan of mah prized possessions. Even tho' it wis the iPhone that wis a' the rage ten models ago.

Mah hawn wis pure sair. Like Ah had stabbed mah fingers wae nails. Ah don’t know how a wee cat could dae so much damage.

Ah wis in so much pain Ah wis dancing in mah seat on the bus. Ah think the old dear thought Ah wis some kind of freak. Ah mean, since being on the heroin an' aff it again, Ah don’t look mah finest, but Ah consider mahself tae be an' upstaning member of the community. Remember whit mah sponsor said, “poster child of recovery”.

Ah goat back tae the Parade in nae time. Tho' it felt like ages on account of mah fingertips being in so much pain. As soon as ah goat up the road tae the flat, ah took some paracetamol wae a wee stubby bottle of Red Stripe. Ah turned on the telly an’ couldnae find anything good tae watch, apart frae a daft horror film wae Jack Nicholson called Wolf. Ah preferred The Shining mahself. Heeeeeere’s Johnny!

Pure dead brilliant impression that wis an' naebody here tae hear or see it. Usual story.

*

Ah must ha' nodded off in front ah the box, because when Ah woke up it wis the news on. Load a pish as usual. Ah’m in need of some scran, tho'. Could eat a horse. Ah get up oot mah seat an' head tae the wee kitchen in the flat an' look in the fridge. There’sa couple of sausages an' not a lot else.

Ah cannae be arsed cooking them though. So, Ah jist pick them up an' tear open the packet an' start munching them doon.

That didnae really fill a hole. Ah need something else. Ah hear the neighbour’s cat in the close…must ha' left him ootside again. Licking mah lips at a cat…whit’s goat intae me?

Never mind, Ah’m starving. So, Ah sneak oot an' find the whinging little pussy an' pounce on it. Biting an' tearing at its flesh, Ah catch sight of mah reflection of the close door windae. Whit the hell is up wae me? Ah must be dreamin’.

*

The next thing ah know is ah Ah’m back in mah chair in front of the telly an' it’s the morning news. That wis sum dream so it wis. Ah get up tae go tae the bog an' relieve mahself, an' catch sight in the mirror…whit the hell is that on mah tap? Must be ketchup or summit. Whit time’s it? Ah, crap, time tae go doon tae see mah sponsor.

Ah head oot the door an' notice some pure dead strange markings on the flare of the close, but don’t huv the time tae check it oot. Head oot the door an' walk alang the road up tae the café. Mick wis sittin’ at the table at the windae. He’s always smilin’ that lad. If it wisnae for him bein’ mah sponsor, Ah’d wonder whit he wis on. He claims it’s jist life an' fresh air. Bloody hippy!

Over mah two eggs, two square sausage, two rashers of bacon, two toast, beans, tomatoes, an' mushrooms, Ah tell Mick awl aboot mah night. He thinks ahm makin’ it up, the wee fanny. Ah tell him it’s the God’s honest truth an' show him mah fingers tae prove it. They're a funny colour. He asks if Ah’m sure Ah don’t ha' anything tae tell him like…if Ah’ve had a relapse. Ah tell him that ah swear on mah dear maw’s grave that ahm clean. He says it may jist be the pure mad withdrawals making mah mind dae crazy things.

Ah shrug an' finish eating mah grub an' then get on the bus tae go up the toon. Ah need tae pick up sum claes frae Buchanan Galleries. Ah’ve heard there’s a sale on, so ah’ll see whit ah can get. Ah don’t ha' much of mah UC (Universal Credit) left, but ah should be able tae afford some troosers an' a tap. Oan the bus, Ah catch a whiff of something really strong…it’s a strong mixture of sweat, like workout sweat an' perfume that’s trying tae mask it. The only other people on the bus right noo are a lassie who’s been running an' a wee old lady who looks like she’s goan oot tae lunch. Ah’m up the back of the bus, an' they’re doon the front. Talk aboot pure rank.

Ahm getting hungry again an' must be getting crazy with the withdrawals again, cos Ah imagined eating that old lady wae the runner girl for dessert. Whit the hell is wrong wae yee? Ah mutter under mah breath.

Ah jump aff the bus at Cathedral Street so Ah can get some fresh air. Ah smile at the wee old lady an' runner as Ah walk past, an' they both gee me the dirtiest of looks like Ah had a Glesga Smile or a piece of shit on mah tap.

Stuck-up bitches, ah think tae mahself as Ah head doon tae Buchanan Galleries via North Hanover Street, George Square an' then St Vincent Place. Aht’s hoachin’ in toon, so many bodies…so many walking meals. Whit…naw. Ahm deffo going mad. Ah go tae Next an' look through the sales. So many smells are hitting mah nose right noo, as Ah look through the Men’s sale items. The prices are ridiculous, even on sale.

Dae they think ahm made of money? Ah grab a couple of items an' consider doin' a bunk wae the claes. Ah slowly walk over tae the opening that leads tae the main part of the shopping centre an' then run. Ah can hear the idiot security guard shouting at me, but Ah keep running an'get faster. Ah run doon the escalator, shoving numpties oot mah way. Wan of the security guards nearly grabs me as ah make mah wae oot back intae the light. Ah make a dash doon Buchanan Street an'suddenly feel the urge tae jump doon a canny side street an'then jump up the building…Aye, you read that right. Ah’m then stawnin' on tap of the building, looking doon at the looney security guards who cannae find me.

Ah decide tae stay up there for a while, until the coast is clear an' ahm safe frae trouble. The afternoon turns tae evening an' Ah must ha' fell asleep, because Ah wake up sitting next tae wan of the gargoyles on Glasgow Cathedral. How the hell did ah get up here?

Something’s definitely no right wae me. Jist as Ah mutter that under mah breath, Ah’m compelled tae howl while tae the moon like a bloody freak.

*

A flash of light blinds me temporarily an' ah wake up back on mah armchair in front of the telly at the flat. Did ah jist dream a' of that? Ahm not very sure right noo. These withdrawal symptoms are getting worse.

Ah look at the clock. Time tae go tae the café tae meet Mick. Wait…did ah no jist dae that? Ah head oot the flat an' the neighbour stoaps me tae ask aboot whether ah’ve seen her cat or naw. Ah lie an' tell her ah dinae know, cos jist noo, ah dinnae know.

Ah don’t know anything. Dinnae know if Ah’m going crazy with the withdrawal or sumthing else…mare sinister is happening.

When ah get tae the café an' tell Mick whit happened, he said some eegit goat chased oot of Buchanan Galleries afore disappearing…he heard it on the radio…

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Note: So, completely forgot about this and how it could be used for the Legends Rewritten challenge. It was originally written as my second entry into the Next Great [American] Novel Challenge, which you can read more about below, I wanted to write in a thicker and stronger Glaswegian/Scottish accent. It's really my first time doing this sort of thing, so please be kind haha. It's actually technically based on a real life experience. Also, for reference, Weegie is basically slang for Glaswegian, a person from Glasgow.

For other Scottish-related writings:

You can also take a look at the rest of my work here.