‘Two ae them are oot cold.’

‘So, Scarlett McKenzie after aw?’

‘Aye,’ Michelle says wae a wee smile.

‘A’m over the moon fur yees! Honestly, man.’

‘Will A go n wake Tam?’

‘Naw, just leave them. A’ll come see yees when yir back up the road n settled.’

Ma phone rings in ma pocket again. A go tae just leave it n Michelle notices ma expression. ‘Avoiding somebody, son?’

‘Awk it’s nuhin.’

The call gets ended n they phone straight back. She gives me the look only an unconvinced woman kin gee yi. ‘You sure? Is everythin awright?’

‘It’s absolutely nuhin tae fret aboot.’

‘Alan, yi know if something is wrong, you can tell me n Thomas.’

‘You n Tam are well matched – both as stubborn as each other!’ A laugh.

A pull ma phone oot as it buzzes away again. Mum Mob. A laugh n show hur the phone as A answer it. She blushes a wee bit n stands back tae let me git it. ‘Hello? A cannae talk, Mum. A’m doon in the hospital wae Tam n Michelle. They’ve just hud their wee one.’ Ma maw’s greetin doon the phone. ‘Wit is it?’ A say, panicked noo, the sense ae impendin doom floodin intae me n takin over ma brain.

‘Someone’s put the window through again!’

‘You’re fuckin kiddin me on.’

‘No, I’m not. I’ve called the police n they’re on their way.’

‘A’ll be there the noo.’

Michelle looks even more worried. ‘What is it, Alan?’

‘Nuhin, Michelle. Nuhin fur you two tae worry aboot,’ A say wae a forced smile.

‘But you need tae go?’

‘Aye, pretty much.’

‘Please be careful. You’ve got a look.’

A hold ma hand up tae stop hur n take another look at Tam sleepin over his baby daughter. A gee Michelle a hug n A make ma way towards the exit.

The Supernatural Force of the Friday Feeling

It used tae rage within yi, a powerful force that burnt away aw reason n there wis nuhin left but you n the night before yi. It wouldnae let yi eat or hide away fae it, cos it wis a demon n aw it wid accept wis drink, drugs n madness. It happened every week, regular as clockwork, yet it wis still a tough wan tae overcome. The start point wis always the anticipation. The infernal waitin tae half three after school or work finishin. That fuckin yearnin fur freedom n the explosion within yi on the way oot that starts the fire. There wis nae gittin by it, nuhin anycunt could dae tae control it. It’s maimed n killed n trapped many a man intae foolish and diverse lusts and eventually perdition itself, if yi couldnae resist its seduction.

There wis nae buzz really. It wis aw aboot the pursuit, a journey but never a destination. Wae every joint yi smoked or pill n line yi took, yi went further fae it, n yi ended up losin yirsel somewhere along the way. Yi chased it aw fuckin night n nae amount ae drink or drugs wid bring it back. Yi admitted defeat every Sunday mornin n even if yi tried again, yi never found wit yi wur lookin fur. The buzz wis only ever the initial spark – never the fire that followed. It wis aw a lie. The only method tae the madness, that yi hud a good run but eventually yi huv tae slow doon or stop the shite fur good. Most cunts dae that naturally, they git a burd, git married n huv weans n that’s it. Once that happens yir partyin days ir over, apart fae the occasional blowoot. If yi took it tae the edge like us, yi either got oot, n stayed oot, or yi got fucked up like the others, heads wasted, depressive, psychotic or suicidal – if the madness itself didnae git yi jailed or killed first. Eventually, if yi keep goin regardless, there wid be nuhin left but memories n a broken n burnt-oot shell … where yi drink tae remember n yi drink tae forget simultaneously n yi find nae peace.