M25

Chapter Two

It was a T.G.I. Fridays, still it was better than a burger from a Service Station. Gary parked and got out of the car. A couple of teenagers immediately approached. The tallest who looked 'long enough to be continued' stared at Gary from under a Nike baseball cap.
‘Mind yer car mate?’
Gary stopped dead in his tracks. He knew the score, give them two quid or when you came out it’ll have been keyed.
‘Certainly boys.’ Gary dug into his pocket. ‘Here’s all the change I’ve got right now, three quid. But if you make sure she’s safe when I come out I’ll drop you another seven.’
The second lad stuck out his hand. They were now friends‘Thanks Mister.’
‘My pleasure,’ Gary replied. ‘I admire your enterprise. The kids well pleased stood at either end of Gary’s car. ‘Keep in touch Butch’ Gary winked and walked into the restaurant. Gary was greeted by the usual pile of puss in red and white stripes covered in badges.
‘Table for one sir?’ Gary nodded.
‘Smoking or non smoking?’
‘Smoking.’
This way sir, the lad showed Gary to table.
Is this OK Sir?’
No it’s fucking not, I don’t want to sit in the window like a cunting goldfish.
The lad was a little stunned. He showed Gary to a table a bit further in.
'How’s this Sir?'
Gary said nothing and sat down. Your server today is Clive and he’ll be with you in a moment. Gary said nothing and the lad handed over the menu and walked away. He looked around it always felt when he came here like he was sitting in some Americans shed. Stockpiled with odd shite, but shite non the less. Clive waddled over.
Hi my names Clive and I’ll be your server today what can I get you?’
Gary looked him straight in the eye.
'Fuck Me Clive how did you get that belt on every morning with a fucking boomerang?'
Clive couldn’t believe his ears.
'I’m sorry?'
You’re a fat fucker for your mum you aren’t you? Has your arse got it’s own MP?’
‘What?’
‘Never mind, I’ll have a Vodka, coke no ice. Give me five minutes on the food.’
‘Vodka, Coke, No ice.’ Clive waddled away.
At the bar Clive seethed
‘See that flash fucker over there. The other lad poked his rat face over the bar to see Gary sparkign up a Marlborough light.’
‘What about him?’
‘He just openly called me a fat fucker.’
‘Well you are.’
‘I know but who’s he to call me?’
Clive was rummaging through the pocket of his coat. He pulled out a small bag of white powder.
‘You’ll get caught one day doin’ that.’
Clive emptied half a gram of pure speed into the vodka. ‘Fuck it – maybe the flash cunt something to think about when he’s up all night grinding his teeth.’
‘And it’ll give him the shits with all that crap it’s cut with.’
‘Too right he won’t need toilet paper, he’ll need fucking scissors.’
Clive poured the coke popped in a straw and waddled back out.
Gary was looking around a young girl about four was toddling about with a balloon Gary watched her parents, they seemed oblivious to the wanderings of their child as they argued over something to do with Bathrooms.
‘Your drink sir.’ Clive broke his stare.
‘And what would you like to order?’
‘Pork Steak with the Jack Daniels sauce, fries and a caeser salad.’
‘Any extras vegetables or side orders?’
Gary just threw him a shitty look.
'No Sir, Thank You Sir, Enjoy your drink Sir.'
Clive scribbled the order and wandered off. Gary swirled the ice in his vodka with the red plastic straw the raised the glass and took a long drink. Putting down his glass he felt a presence and looked down to see the small girl with the balloon on her wrist staring at him. He looked up, her parents were still arguing. Gary bent over and whispered FUCK OFF!'
The girl smiled.
Again… 'FUCK OFF'
The girl smiled and wandered off. He was hungry now, he hadn’t eaten since the Muesli this morning, he hated museli reminded him of the scrapings from the bottom of a parrot cage. He eat because it was good for him, it was certainly better than cornflakes with water, his staple diet for three years at the home, museli although fucking horrible was a posh breakfast cereal so he eat it every day. The light in his seating area dimmed and to the table opposite a red and white puss ball carried a cake with a sparkler in it. Others including Clive clustered around the table the one of them burst into song. “Happy Birthday to you, happy Birthday to you happy birthday dear Margery happy birthday to
You.' They all clapped enthusiastically then dispersed. Clive walked past Gary. 'Oi fatso I’ll be celebrating my fucking birthday here if my dinner doesn’t come soon.'
'I’ll be onto now Sir.'
Clive spun around and walked straight into the kitchen. Where’s the pork steak and fries for table 23. The chef nodded. Clive took the plate and turned towards the door.
The with one hand he lifted the pork and spat underneath it. Clive burst through the wooden double doors like the ghost train. Cheery as fuck and glided to Gary’s table. 'There you go sir Pork Steak with the Jack Daniels sauce, fries and a Caeser salad. Enjoy your meal, sorry about the wait.’
‘It’s OK, smirked Gary, ‘with some exercise and a healthy diet it should come off.’ Clive like most fat fuckers in any service industry had heard it before so he ignored it and went to walk away. ‘What’s this?’ Gary held up a knife. ‘It’s a knife sir.’
‘No Fat boy, correction it’s a fucking dirty knife. Now you might be so busy shoving food into that monsterous cake hole of yours to notice but when I eat I prefer a bit of hygiene.’
‘Yes Sir apologies sir. I’ll get you a clean one.’
Clive went away and returned with a clean knife. Gary took it without looking and tucked in. ‘Fuckin’ hell’ he spluttered as one burnt his lip. He took the small ceramic pot of Jack Sauce and poured it over the pork. Again he felt a stare and again the little girl was stood smiling. Gary annoyed, looked across at her parents who still argued. He checked around and seeing all was clear took a chip off his plate. He smiled at the kid and opened his mouth in a gesture for her to do the same. She did and he popped the scalding chip in her mouth. The kid screamed loudly and turned towards mummy. The parents looked up. Annoyed at the kid they mother shouted ‘Ellen - Louise what you up to now ’ and grabbed her arm viciously, swinging her around and giving her a belt across the bottom of her legs. Gary didn’t even bother looking up, he just smirked and thought to himself ‘yes – double whammy’. Gary decided to skip dessert telling Clive he didn’t want to end up like him and have to iron his underpants on the front lawn. Clive was gracious as ever and expressed in a way only a fat abused TGI servant could that he hoped Gary had had a good meal. Gary walked out toward the door, this time a pretty young thing in red and white stripes smiled at Gary and opened the door for him. He stopped winked raised his right leg and farted a long bubbly hot fart. The girl just looked at him in horror. 'Thank you my lovely,' Gary said as he walked past her like Chaz Chaplin.
The two lads who were supposed to be minding his car were putting the frighteners on an older woman stood by a Nissan Micra. Gary heard her protest. ‘I don’t need it minding it’s got Elliot my Yorkie in it.’ The long enough to be continued lad smirked. ‘That may well be nanna’ but can Elliot put fires out?' They heard Gary’s footsteps and immediately left the old dear. After all he was an easy seven quid. ‘Lads’ Gary greeted them like old friends as he got to his car. He walked around it slowly. ‘Good Job, good Job.’ Gary put his hand in his pocket ‘what did we say another seven was it?’ The smaller Lad gave an enthusiastic ‘yeah – and it’s a good job too mister two blokes were sniffin’ around with screwdrivers whilst you were in there but me and Matt scared them off.’ Matt agreed ‘that’s right gave them a slap and sent them packing.’ ‘Nice work lads. Now give us back the three quid and I’ll give you a tenner.’ A smackheads hand gave Gary his money back. Gary slipped it into his pocket. Gary slapped his pockets, just a minute I’ll get you a note out of the car. Gary got in the car and slipped the ignition keys in and slid down the window. He gestured to Matt, ‘hey tall guy here you go.’ Matt walked to the window. Gary conjured up a ball of Jack Daniels flavoured spit and let Matt have it in the face. The Beemer the roared into life. ‘Keep in touch Butch’ Gary laughed and took off. Matt tried to run after Gary but scallies legs were no match for 435 brake horsepower with a torque of 345lb per square foot. Gary was back on the A-road. He felt surprisingly alert, his black heart raced.