Status Updates From A Decent Ride (Terry Lawson...

Then Terry droaps Ronnie oaf at the hoaspital. When eh's gittin his nose reset, we're sittin in the waiting room. Ah whispers tae Terry, - Ye see that thing ye pit in real faither Alec's grave?

Best laugh the day was when that Terry came down. He fancies himself, but he's not like Victor or Kelvin, he treats the lassies really well and has a joke and a laugh. AND he never wants a free ride. I think he wants us to offer it to him! He doesn't know about it, but that's what's gonna happen! LOL!

(...) Ah swaggers oot the pub n intae the cab. Sometimes it really is best tae hide things in plain sight.
Ah'm sittin wonderin aboot wee Jinty again, whaire is she hidin? Ah looks at one ay the pages ah ripped oot.

(...) Karen painfully moans as the firefighters battle on and the ambulance takes Craig away, a piece of Marjory MacKay molded into the side of his burning face. Terry stands back by the gates of the crematorium to grimly survey the scene. He knows that tonight will bring him more nightmares.

Jonty looks at her and then breaks into a big smile. At the bottom of the stairs, he gives her a skelp across her big arse, as Hank did to them both when they were younger.

He sits there for a bit till the water turns tepid, shriveling his balls. He shivers, decides to get up and go out, delighted that he has enough for a McDonald's.

Ah'm hopin thi'll jist tip the concrete right ower her, but ah ken thi'll probably find her.
Ah'm circlin rond tae go back the other way, oan that big wide road, n ah come oot at Haymarket n then this taxi stoaps.

He keeps pushing, but it isn't right as she's that cold and it is all sore and tight, but he inches further in but it's so cold, and her weight shifts under him, and her mouth, it hangs open again and that smell comes up like sulphur from deep inside of her and Jonty thrusts in further to try to bring her back, but that smell from her mouth ... (...)

(...) N that funny white stuff, naw naw naw, ah'm no wantin tae talk aboot that ... pit ye in the jile ... ye dinnae want the jile. Cause it turned yir dad funny, aye, Jinty, Maurice, yir faither, he went funny in the jile, aye sur, aye sur, aye sur ...

Aye, the memories make ye sad, but ah've goat ma ain yins tae make ays sad, so ah drink up n leave, sure ah do, sur. Tell Mo ah huv tae go. Nice canary-yellay fleece though.

Then, in the early hours of the morning, around 2 AM, it all stops. Nobody quite notices the precise time. Many, indeed, have forgotten all about the hurricane as they spill out of the pub, into the ghostly, rubbish-strewn avenues, and make their way unsteadily home.

Jonty is scared. He worries about Jinty going out in that hurricane. He goes to the Internet to Face the Future, the website he likes, the one run by American survivalists. He doesn't know what a survivalist is, but it sounds good. Everybody wants to survive.