Dougy
04-02-2011, 01:52 AM
It was the screaming that woke me. They were beating the **** out of Tommy Green. The kid with the braces, the kid we used to pick on at school. There were five of them around him like a pack of dogs. He’d stopped screaming, but they didn’t stop kicking. They kept kicking for another five minutes. Blue lights splashed off the garages. The Police were watching.
I started to look at the sky more often after that. It's burnt hues would rise into blossoms and plumes. I could feel the notion of fear rising in me. I think I always had the fear.
At work my boss saw the light go out in my eyes.
'Mark. Jesus, Mark. You alright?' Roger asked.
‘Have you heard? Tommy Green?’
‘Yeah. I heard, but what can you do about it?’ Roger remarked.
‘I’m pissed off.’
‘I bet you are.’ He handed me an envelope.
‘**** needs to change.’ I indicated the world with a wave of my hand.
‘What?’
‘All this ****e. That,’ I pointed to a police car, ‘And that, and this.’
‘You better have a look in that,' he pointed to the envelope I held limply, 'the people upstairs,' he glanced up to the ceiling, 'are laying people off. Governmental cut backs.'
'****ing joking me.'
'Nah I'm not,mate. Even my job's in the firing line. Looks like they're gonna axe the entire department.' He got up and put the kettle. 'Coffee?'
I couldn't answer him because I'd already began to read the redundancy note the head branch had sent me. I felt light and giddy. I walked out.
In those early days I felt dislocated from anything to do with organisation – the post services, the bus services, the ****ing police, the army, the ambulance, the NHS – anything to with the government. They were part of the failing network.
We met in the community hall. All seven of us. I didn’t know what to think. What were we thinking? I guess we were angry. Usually you’d see or read something in the paper and it would touch you for a second or two, but when I searched the faces in the room I realised that everyone had been touched on a personal level. They’d seen their own neighbourhoods deteriorate.
‘It’s an insidious process, people. You were in it, but you didn’t see it happening until you remembered how it was like,’ Demetrius' eyes gleamed. There was an electric charm to this man. He moved like a battery powered monkey whose eyes never blinked. He held you in that gaze, fixed you, then attacked. ‘You!’
He moved cat-like to a thin man, who was ready to crumble into his chair, under Barry’s intense gaze. ‘How were you affected?’
‘I...I saw my wife raped by my brother. I called the police, but they put me on hold.' Demetrius placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked around at the fifteen other rebels.
‘This, my friends is what it’s come to. I was stabbed.’ He lifted a shirt, a ladder of stitches worked their way up his rib cage, ‘I called the ambulance. I was put through to an answering machine.’ He spoke quietly and I could sense their was no anger in his voice. It was calm and methodical, each syllable articulated in a way that even the polish guy could understand.
“You see, Mark. That's where you an me differ. I'm a military man, yeah?” I nod. “You've got to look at it from our point of view. We've got fat ****ers in the Army who do nowt but stay in camp and get paid as much as us. What do we do? Go to hot places and blown up. It's all wrong man.
“Those sponging bastards in parliament are no better, sending us off and claiming second housing benefits. Look at that useless twat.” Lee pointed to a old man in a grey overcoat.
“Lee. Keep it down, mate.”
“I mean just look at him.” The old man turned his head slightly. He'd heard. “I bet that ****er's on benefits as well. My old fellah was working till he was ****ing crippled.”
Lee's mate sighed and blew out air, ‘I’ve got a friend right. Leg blown off in a land mine in Afghanistan. He’s a ****in’ alckie now. No ****er's gonna employ him. A one legged alckie?” He laughed.
‘We ain’t alone. Did you see in the newspapers? Those soft ****ing students writing ‘Revolution’ on the wall. Haven’t got the balls. Have you?’
‘What?’
‘Have you got the balls to shoot someone?’
Sara snuggled close to me on the sofa, before the television went off the air.
‘Can you see that?’ She gazed down to the plump ripe belly.
‘What? Our baby?’
‘Precisely Marky.’ She always called me that when she made a point.
‘What about him?’
‘Can you see him move? Look. He’s kicking.’ She took my hand and gently placed it on her tummy. I felt a slight rise of movement there. For a moment I wanted to pull my hand away. I bent down and spoke to her belly.
‘Just wait, David. Hail the revolution.’
‘You’re crazy. Just look at that crap on TV.’ Students had overturned a minister’s car in London and were rioting in the streets. The police formed a cordon and the shaky camera whirled around to a worried looking reported.
‘Is this live?’ I got up and got closer.
‘Yeah. The news doesn’t start until another hour.’
I could see the word flash at the bottom of the screen. Cracks could be heard on the TV and screams. ‘The police have opened fire on the crowd.’
Later I rang Lee. ‘Have you seen the news?’
‘Yeah. It's ****ing wonderful, man.’
‘They can’t do that.’
‘Well they have. The faggot police are going gun crazy on our arses. It’s time to get armed, Mark.’
‘As a last resort.’
‘I’d call this the last resort.’
Sara looked at me, ‘What is it?’
‘We’re doing the rally in two days.’
I started to look at the sky more often after that. It's burnt hues would rise into blossoms and plumes. I could feel the notion of fear rising in me. I think I always had the fear.
At work my boss saw the light go out in my eyes.
'Mark. Jesus, Mark. You alright?' Roger asked.
‘Have you heard? Tommy Green?’
‘Yeah. I heard, but what can you do about it?’ Roger remarked.
‘I’m pissed off.’
‘I bet you are.’ He handed me an envelope.
‘**** needs to change.’ I indicated the world with a wave of my hand.
‘What?’
‘All this ****e. That,’ I pointed to a police car, ‘And that, and this.’
‘You better have a look in that,' he pointed to the envelope I held limply, 'the people upstairs,' he glanced up to the ceiling, 'are laying people off. Governmental cut backs.'
'****ing joking me.'
'Nah I'm not,mate. Even my job's in the firing line. Looks like they're gonna axe the entire department.' He got up and put the kettle. 'Coffee?'
I couldn't answer him because I'd already began to read the redundancy note the head branch had sent me. I felt light and giddy. I walked out.
In those early days I felt dislocated from anything to do with organisation – the post services, the bus services, the ****ing police, the army, the ambulance, the NHS – anything to with the government. They were part of the failing network.
We met in the community hall. All seven of us. I didn’t know what to think. What were we thinking? I guess we were angry. Usually you’d see or read something in the paper and it would touch you for a second or two, but when I searched the faces in the room I realised that everyone had been touched on a personal level. They’d seen their own neighbourhoods deteriorate.
‘It’s an insidious process, people. You were in it, but you didn’t see it happening until you remembered how it was like,’ Demetrius' eyes gleamed. There was an electric charm to this man. He moved like a battery powered monkey whose eyes never blinked. He held you in that gaze, fixed you, then attacked. ‘You!’
He moved cat-like to a thin man, who was ready to crumble into his chair, under Barry’s intense gaze. ‘How were you affected?’
‘I...I saw my wife raped by my brother. I called the police, but they put me on hold.' Demetrius placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked around at the fifteen other rebels.
‘This, my friends is what it’s come to. I was stabbed.’ He lifted a shirt, a ladder of stitches worked their way up his rib cage, ‘I called the ambulance. I was put through to an answering machine.’ He spoke quietly and I could sense their was no anger in his voice. It was calm and methodical, each syllable articulated in a way that even the polish guy could understand.
“You see, Mark. That's where you an me differ. I'm a military man, yeah?” I nod. “You've got to look at it from our point of view. We've got fat ****ers in the Army who do nowt but stay in camp and get paid as much as us. What do we do? Go to hot places and blown up. It's all wrong man.
“Those sponging bastards in parliament are no better, sending us off and claiming second housing benefits. Look at that useless twat.” Lee pointed to a old man in a grey overcoat.
“Lee. Keep it down, mate.”
“I mean just look at him.” The old man turned his head slightly. He'd heard. “I bet that ****er's on benefits as well. My old fellah was working till he was ****ing crippled.”
Lee's mate sighed and blew out air, ‘I’ve got a friend right. Leg blown off in a land mine in Afghanistan. He’s a ****in’ alckie now. No ****er's gonna employ him. A one legged alckie?” He laughed.
‘We ain’t alone. Did you see in the newspapers? Those soft ****ing students writing ‘Revolution’ on the wall. Haven’t got the balls. Have you?’
‘What?’
‘Have you got the balls to shoot someone?’
Sara snuggled close to me on the sofa, before the television went off the air.
‘Can you see that?’ She gazed down to the plump ripe belly.
‘What? Our baby?’
‘Precisely Marky.’ She always called me that when she made a point.
‘What about him?’
‘Can you see him move? Look. He’s kicking.’ She took my hand and gently placed it on her tummy. I felt a slight rise of movement there. For a moment I wanted to pull my hand away. I bent down and spoke to her belly.
‘Just wait, David. Hail the revolution.’
‘You’re crazy. Just look at that crap on TV.’ Students had overturned a minister’s car in London and were rioting in the streets. The police formed a cordon and the shaky camera whirled around to a worried looking reported.
‘Is this live?’ I got up and got closer.
‘Yeah. The news doesn’t start until another hour.’
I could see the word flash at the bottom of the screen. Cracks could be heard on the TV and screams. ‘The police have opened fire on the crowd.’
Later I rang Lee. ‘Have you seen the news?’
‘Yeah. It's ****ing wonderful, man.’
‘They can’t do that.’
‘Well they have. The faggot police are going gun crazy on our arses. It’s time to get armed, Mark.’
‘As a last resort.’
‘I’d call this the last resort.’
Sara looked at me, ‘What is it?’
‘We’re doing the rally in two days.’