Ugly Puggly 79

I used my good (non-wanking hand) to angle the telly. But I wasn’t sure how it worked. Whatever channel I flicked it onto seemed to drone extended variations of the same adverts. It was like being back in the La Scala where Pearl and Dean bombarded us with lights and noise before we were allowed to sit down and watch movies like Ben Hur, or even Ben Him.

Molly offered some advice. ‘Try and get Heartbeat on.’

‘Heartbeat, I nearly died. That’s aw a need.’

‘But the music’s good.’ The thought of it brought a smile to her lips. She’d a smidgen of lipstick which disguised her kung-fu like capacity for wrong footing me by doing nothing and letting me do the work. She’d won her argument with me about drinking in an unexpected, expected, way.

I smiled and said nothing. I was in a pickle that only Ugly Puggly could figure a way out. Clearing myself with the cops would have implicated myself with them. The cuffs rattled on my arm as I went to wipe my forehead. ‘Hi,’ I shouted over to the young cop. ‘I need tae go tae the toilet. Yeh want tae unlock this?’

He glanced back at his phone, his mouth hanging open in the way the playboy’s did. I thought maybe he was messaging him. That way I’d be able to get some inside information when he was inside him. When he stood up, he was tall for his age. It was that old adage, when the cops get younger, you start voting Tory to protect yourself from other youngsters that weren’t in the force.

I used my bum to push up the bed, but my back hurt. Molly looked over. ‘You want to gie me a haun?’

The young cop uncuffed me. I rubbed the reddish mark around my wrist. He was a man for the gadgets, using the controls to tilt the bed so that standing was easier.

Molly helped me crouch and stand. I leaned on her shoulder as I hobbled across the floor. She put her arm around my waist. I thought he’d have followed me into the toilet, but he couldn’t have seen me as much of a threat of absconding and the lack of bleach was criminal. He’d have caught me before I’d have low footed it to the nurses’ station. She helped me to the pan, but wandered back to stand half in and half outside the toilet.

In my gown I hadn’t much to hide and she’d seen it all before. I eased myself down onto the pan and groaned. ‘How’d you get on wae that thing?’ I asked her to distract myself.

‘Oh, Dyrmen?’ She chortled. ‘They were very nice. We must have been a disappointment to them. Big family. Well-behaved children—which we know is a novelty.’ A shake of the head. ‘They really wanted tae help. Maybe a bit too keen, yeh know whit I mean?’

‘Timewasters,’ I growled. ‘Could huv told you so.’

‘No, you couldnae. Cause yeh were lyin in yer ain pish.’  

I had to concede she was right. I almost had a bowel movement and my stomach flipped. ‘Anybody else?’

‘Anbody else, whit?’

‘I mean, em.’ I wet my lips and tried to focus. ‘Did you get any oer sightings aw Ugly Puggly?’

‘Oh, aye. Loads.’

I waited for her to continue, or the insides of my body to slide down the inside of the pan. I shrieked in pain, which softened her up.

‘One guy in Partick seemed promising, but he was half blind…and liked a bit of a drink.’

‘Like me?’ I looked down at my bits. ‘You should huv just told im, one day at a time, sweet Jesus.’ I farted and felt slightly better.

‘And then there was this woman.’ Trying to think of the right words, she shook her head. ‘She was fuckin crazy.’

‘You cannae say that!’ I warned her. ‘You’ve got to say she was psychopathically challenged—like the last American President, the moron’s moron.’

‘Well, she was.’

‘She was the last American President. Was it, maybe, a disappointed Hillary Clinton fae Paisley?’

‘No, ya daft bugger, it wisnae.’

I rubbed at my stomach. ‘I hink you’ll need tae go and get a nurse.’

Concern showed on her face. ‘Is it bad?’

‘Well, it’s no good. I might huv tae appear at the High Court wae my arse attached tae William Shanks’ lavvy pan.’  

‘OK,’ she turned to get help. ‘We’ll get yeh a lawyer and get yeh oot of here.’

‘Maybe a plumber wae a big suction pad would be better.’

‘I’m serious. Dave has got quite a followin noo. He’s one of them, there, influencers. He’s came into a bit of cash. He’ll get you a QC.’

‘That’s good,’ I hissed through my teeth. ‘I’m no being funny here, but I could dae wae a bottle of cheap wine.’

‘I’m no buyin yeh drink.’ Her voice rose in indignation and made her taller too. ‘How dae yeh think yeh got here?’

‘Black Maria and the cop-shop show.’ I was trying to squeeze it out and keep talking to keep my mind off things below. ‘It’s no whit yeh hink.’ I sucked in my breath. ‘When I drink that stuff, the shite runs oot me.’

‘Yeh mean it’s a diuretic?’

‘No, I mean the shite runs oot me. I don’t turn green like the Hulk. Although, wae my recent track record, I did turn blue.’

‘Shut up,’ she cried. Her high heels clicked to the quick, and I heard her running towards the nurses’ station.

The slow shuffle of the cop’s feet replaced her high-energy exit. He stuck his head in the door, but kept himself outside as if he was following police etiquette. Reaffirming his masculinity with the rumble of a gruff voice, and the assertion that he didn’t look down on me as a common criminal without rights, or usually sneak a look at guys on the toilet pan. ‘You alright?’

‘No,’ I barked. ‘If you’d enough gumption tae huv a gun, I’d ask yeh to shoot me. Death by cop is better than death by constipation any fuckin time.’ I glared at him. ‘So jist fuck off.’

‘Right!’ he staggered backwards. ‘Let me know if you need anything.’