Madferit

I Don't Care What They Say Any More

            I couldn't believe we'd been on this tour for almost a year now but I suppose that's usually how it always was...if certain people weren't fucking off in the middle of it.

And before you go pointing fingers and that, I never fucked off. I may have been late but I didn't just up and leave. They needed me more than they fucking needed him. He couldn't carry our band without me. He didn't have the fucking balls regardless of what he might think.

He was acting a bit weird on that tour. Weirder than he'd always been. He was getting a bit too big for his boots if you ask me. Fucking separate hotels and flights than us lot. Who the fuck did he think he was? Was he too good to be seen with us or summat?

It wasn't just about that stuff though. There was something else. He was getting a little more secretive. Maybe the separate hotels and that were helping him keep his secrets but I wasn't fucking blind.

Our Kid always disappeared into his own little world when he had his guitar. Didn't matter which kind. Acoustic, electric, they were all the same. He'd start strumming away and he was gone.

But he'd be gone even without music. That fucking knobhead always thought he was better than...fuck! I'm rambling and if I don't watch myself I'll forget what I was even talking about.

Anyway, he'd get into his element and he was off in his own head. I'd like to say he got this dopey look on his face. Like years ago when he'd been sniffing glue. But he never did.

It was during sound check. Can't be arsed to remember where we were or why I even decided to be there in the first place. He was off by himself warming up his guitar to the tune of something I'd never heard before. Summat about a gun. Shooting a gun. Was that supposed to be a euphemism or something? Fuck off! It sounded like he was trying to compensate for something. If anyone's got a gun worth shooting, it's me. Mine's bigger, right? And has got a hell of a better aim.

"Hey up! What's that your singin'?" I asked as I went over to find out what the fuck he was up to.

"Nothin'." He replied not looking up from his acoustic.

"Don't sound like nothin'. It sounds like a new song. What's it-"

"It's nothin'! Now fuckin' leave me alone! Ya shouldn't even fuckin' be here-"

"The fuck d'ya mean I shouldn't be here?" I snapped. "You're always bitchin' at me for slaggin' off our sound checks and now I'm here you want me to leave? The fuck's that about, eh? Are you tryin' to hide summat from me? Have you-"

"What the fuck are ya on about?" He asked furrowing them big stupid eyebrows of his. "I'm not hidin' nothin' from you, ya fuckin' delusional cun-"

"Then what's that song you're singin'? If you're not hidin' anything why the fuck won't ya tell me what it's called?"

"'Cuz I haven't got a title for it yet!"

"Bull shit! You're sat there singin' about havin' a bigger cock than me when everybody knows-"

"Fuck off!" He screamed. "You're fuckin' insane! D'ya know that?"

"Says the geezer writin' a song about his fuckin' prick!" I scoffed. "You're no less crazy than I am, ya cunt! Try as ya fuckin' might!"

"Get out!" He ordered as he stood up and pointed towards the door.

"Oh c'mon, Our Kid! It was just a fuckin'-"