Dark Dream

Dark Dreams, Part 11: Davo's Saving Hands

"It all started when we was comin' back from the supermarket. We was walkin' back along the canal, if you include Frosty Jack, feeling warm from its effects.

"He looked like any other scaly, but there was somethin' wrong about him. Spud didn't notice him at first, but I did. From a distance he looked like a ghost cos he was all dressed in white.

"As he came nearer I could see he was wearin' a tracksuit.

"This made me feel better at first, thinkin' of him wearin' a gold curb-chain and lookin' like some puff from an eighties gangster movie.

"Still, the approachin' figure didn't sit well with me.

"The guy had an unnervin' purpose about him, as if whatever he wanted to do was already done.

"I swear, Charley, I wanted to jump into the canal and take my chances with the rats. It was only Spud that made me stay. I couldn't just leave him, this guy meant business."

"Hey, Davo, who the fuck's that clown?" Spud said, a little too loudly. Davo knew that any possibility of avoiding a confrontation was out of the question. This guy wasn't going to pass by, even if he wanted to.

Spud wasn't going to let him.

"Shut up," Davo hissed. "He looks like some knuckle draggin' psycho who's all out of victims. I swear, Spud, if you draw attention to us I'll throw ya in the river."

Spud was taking a swig from the bottle, and this tickled him to the point that the drink came out of his nose.

"You really fuck me up sometimes, Davo, 'knuckle draggin' psycho' indeed!"

They went silent as the guy reared up before them.

He was big, real big. He also had a vacant look that creeped Davo out.

The face held no emotion and was framed by white, blond hair and stud earrings in both ears. Davo noticed a crudely done tattoo on his thick neck that looked like a cobweb.

This stood out against the white of his skin as they both looked up at him.

Spud craned his head forward to get a better look. "You're a big bastard, aren't ya—are ya one of those albino types? Ya know, I'd stay off wearin' white if I was you, makes you look like a big puff tart." The guy made no response; didn't even look as if he heard the insult thrown his way.

"Come on, Spud, this guy looks out of it." He elbowed Spud to get his message across.

Spud caught on but wasn't willing to keep it to himself. He took a hefty swig of Frosty Jack and pushed his belly out in a devil-may-care way. He exhaled the poisons of his lungs with a fine spray of cider mixed in. "What's up with ya boy, are ya on drugs?" Davo cringed and wished Spud would be less confrontational for once. "Are ya one of those lily-livered sissy-boys? I've met your type before. Ya don't scare me."

"What's your name?" Spud just had to ask.

The man's face issued a flash of awareness, as if coming out of his drug-induced haze.

"Bonehead," he said.

His voice sounded flat and to the point.

"Bonehead?" Spud echoed, temporarily thrown by the fact the guy had actually spoken.

Davo caught on a bit faster and he looked down. "Jesus!!"

"What?" Spud looked at Davo, caught his gaze and followed it down. "Fuck me, what ya got your dick out for boy? This ain't no homo's convention you know. As big as it is, and as proud as ya must be, ya just can't walk around with your dick hanging out. There's laws against that kind of thing!"