All entries for Tuesday 27 November 2007
November 27, 2007
I want to grind him beneath my soles, I want to crush his illiterate spirit, I want to remove his glib, sordid leer. I nod.
Is that a bona fide acceptance, Eymickey? You gonna go all the way through with this?
Another long nod. I want to pound his whoring greedy gammon face into the wall.
Great stuff, Mickeymyboy! Tuesday – eleven – the shop. Sharpish now Mickey. Off with you.
With that, I am out cold. Alone with my own thoughts, and with his cardboard civilities still getting knocked around in my head. My itsy shitting secret. How he knows is not a question I should worry about, itchy as it is: Ruddy Dan gets to know everything around here sooner or later. No, I just need to work out how to get from under his thumb without disturbing it too much: without him noticing before it's too late.
O Ruddy Dan, I am going to get out from this; and I am going to rub you out, along with my bitsy secret.