Sunday, 8 August 2010
Paper Boys # 1
Paper boys don't have names. They have numbers. I was 17. 11 got sacked for incompetence, and got his mum to come round to the shop. He didn't get reinstated. 3 could fart louder than anyone I'd ever met, which was a feat at six in the morning. 8 had the best paid run, but had to cycle half way to Falkirk. He was off sick once. The boss told me to do his run when I was finished. I told him I couldn't - I had to get home to study for my Ancient Greek exam. He spat on the floor and told 3 to do it. He'd locked 3 in the ice cream freezer the previous day. 3 had farted till he got out. 3 was not chuffed. He told the boss I was bullshitting. I recited the definite article out loud, with mistakes. The boss looked me up and down. 'You dae it, 3,' he said. '17's too brainy tae dae another run.' He was right. I'd already done my Ancient Greek test, and passed it. But I was fucked if I was going to cycle half way to Falkirk before school.
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