The lady is a nutter. Bonkers. Off her head mate. That's all you need to know.
I knew it was psycho when I put it in her and I knew it was psycho when I married it. So why did I bag the cunt? Well that's a pretty easy answer . Coke mate. A shit ton of coke. And then meth. Can't remember when the meth came in exactly but it did weird things to me man. Made me start thinking differently.Do you really think I would have done that Vegas wedding shit sober? Or even drunk. Nah man it had to be the meth. Drunk don't do nuffin to me anymore. I see right through that shit. But yeah, this bitch.
I thought we was going to the corner shop. She told me we was going to the corner shop. How was I supposed to know she'd stick a load of heroin in my arm, drop me in boot of the ford and I'd be shipped off the the US like a slab of tranquillised meat? I ain't even like 'Merica.
The coke tastes weird man. Like that canned cheese shit.
'Sir?'
Huh?
Antony blinked. It suddenly became very apparent he was far from the dim pub as his eyes fixated on the metal table in front of him and travelled up the white, porcelain walls. The three men in uniform stared at him coldly. Nope. Definitely not Dave. Or Bill. Or even Joe.
Fuck, he'd done it again.
'Sir, we don't need a life story, we just need a statement on why you were found with your dick in a slots machine.' The middle man spoke in a rough Northern accent as he fixated his harsh gaze on Antony.
Oh fuck.
He suddenly felt a throb of pain downstairs.
Double fuck.
'Officer, I ain't know nothing about no slots. I thought it was a vagina. Sir,' he finished.
(His head pounded like hell, damn.)
Another officer cleared his throat,
'Thomas, please explain what vaginas you have found situated in the centre of a massive block of plastic.'
Antony thought about this question very deeply, eventually mentally finishing on the classic insult of 'your mums' before deciding against it as he glanced the officers bicep heaving on the back of the chair.
'Just don't fine me please Jim, please do your man a solid. The fine really killed me last time man. I need this one... for my babies... you know my children...'
'My name is Greg.'
'Greg, my man... you remember...'
'You've used your kids as an excuse before Thomas, but when we reviewed your property the only resident was you.'
'Joe... no...'
'It's Greg,'
'Jim, I mean I need to support ma kids. I gotta pay ma wives.'
'Your wife left you 6 years ago Thomas.'
'Nahhhhhh,' Antony began to get riled up, froth appearing in his mouth, 'I still have to pay the bitch for my kids,'
'Actually...' one of the officers picked up his clipboard and flicked through a few pages, 'it says here all of your children are now happily settled in adoptive families,' he looked up sternly, 'Aka you don't need to be paying shit.'
Antony sat still for a little while, his brain processing this information. Eventually, something seemed to click,
'That bitch!' He spat, lunging forward out of his seat, to which the three men contained him, 'Thats a lot of meth I've lost! A lot! Not that you'd know about that!' He glared at Greg, snarling, his teeth trying to grapple onto any available skin.
'Trust me Jim, I've seen a lot of junkies like you in my life,' Greg reassured him, giving him a smirk before pulling his arms behind his back and holding him hard. 'I know about the cost of it.'
At this Antony went crazy.
'Sir, we just need you to sign some papers and we'll let you go' the other officer, a younger, chirpier boy piped in, seeming slightly scared by the struggling, now biting man in front of him.
'This incident doesn't seem as the scouts incident,' Greg cut in - 'Anything like that again would definitely earn you a night in the cell, unfortunately that place is already taken by your mate Joe...'
'Joe! I knew that cunt was somewhere!' Antony exclaimed, as Greg calmly put him into a headlock.
'Yes,' Greg said dryly, 'I'm sure cutting his penis with a pen knife and writing 'Free Willy' onto the wall of The Bell will satisfy your sense of humour,'
'The cunt!' Antony chuckled as Greg finally loosened his grip to let the man exit the sliding doors.
'See you next week, Jim!' Antony cried as he stumbled down the road, eventually fading into darkness, out of t he reach of the street lamps.
'Hopefully with your cock in your pants this time,' Greg muttered under his breath as he wiped some sweat away from his forehead.
When Antony got home, he crashed on the sofa, amongst a pile of used bottles and crisp packets. Groaning, he reached for his phone which had fallen against the massive bag of coke he kept tucked down the back of the couch. Jesus, he thought staring at the bag, how much had he taken that night? Plus the drinks? Now wonder he was cunting on about Tammy. She was the queen of coke after all. Everytime he did it it was like a shot of her to the skull. And to be fair, he did it most nights.
He carefully lined it up with a few scratches of his oyster before quickly delivering it to his brain, where it danced like a ballerina and floated like a cloud as he carried on groaning and drooling on his couch. His phone then beeped and he picked it up immediately, shaking a few dots of white from it.
Terrileigh. As expected. She was the only one who'd bother texting, his friends just walked in and out as they wanted. Now that he thought about it, maybe he needed to ask Joe about his stash because it was looking pretty low...
But anyway. Terri. He sighed. It was nice knowing one of his kids didn't think he was a total knobhead but it didn't help that she was a bigger crackhead than him. He knew she'd lost a kid earlier that year but bloody hell, if she was swallowing more coke than semen how did she expect the kid to last longer than a month. Even Cunty Tam knew to cut down to a line a week when she was pregnant with her and Simon. I mean sure, Simon was twitching like Joe Exotic when he came out but like that calmed after an hour or so after the doctors put him on some drugs or something. Antony didn't really know the details but it couldn't have been that bad.
Terri wanted to make sure he was ok. Was he ok? He was as ok as a high functioning alcoholic, crackhead, methhead, heroin addict could be. He wasn't dead. There - there was the positive that no one else had the mindset to see. But ... oh. Terri had not contacted to ask him how he was. She -. Oh. Ohhhh.
Well.
How lovely.
Simon had got some bitch pregnant. Did he really have time for this? Was it even technically his grandchild? Wasn't it really that cancer curing cunt's instead?
Antony really did not give a shit but Terri seemed to think it was something for him to be excited about. And Terri was his favourite kid so he texted back a few emojis. He was sure that explained his emotions very well.
He rolled over and got a face full of slobber.
Chance. His only love in life. He pulled the big, blubbery dog onto his stomach and cradled and cooed him like his baby.
'I love you Chancy choo - my little baby booooo,'
Chance have a deep woof in reply which echoed around the small apartment.
'Come to daddy, woof woof little boo boo choo choo,'
The dog bounded onto his face and started licking off the dried cocaine.
'Chance! Bad puppy!' Antony cried. 'You know what happened last time! You got very sick and daddy got very scared.'
Ok so Antony had tried to get his dog to do a line of coke while on a strange mixture of LSD, Schrooms and speed. He just wanted the dog to feel as happy as he did. He gave Chance one more big kiss as his head hit the pillow and he passed out.
