Cracking Up Read Online Free PDF

squeaky clean Bangerz again, babe.”
    “With rotten teeth! Listen, you arsehole: You’ve promised me that before. You’re fulla shit and I’m not going to go through it again.”
    “No lying. I’m giving it up.”
    “No, that’s it. I’m telling you, I’ve had it. I saw those bullet holes in the front door, that’s when I decided to leave. I’m not going to live like that anymore.”
    She hung up. Kaylee, sick of all the shady junkie stunts and goings on, had in fact moved out. She’d packed her bags and fled to her friend’s house on the other side of town, but due to his drug-infested lifestyle he had barely noticed. “Me bird’s ditched me,” he told me. “She reckons I can’t get off the gear. Fucking bollicks, man! I’ve phoned the clinic up. They’re fucking fully booked. It’s going to take two weeks just to get a lousy appointment. Fucking birds, mate, there’s no pleasing them. If they didn’t have a cunt, you’d have nothing to do with them.”
    “Don’t worry, mate, she’ll be back.”
    “Fucking too right she’ll be back,” he said. “She said I was too wrapped up in me-self. Don’t know what she’s gassing on about. Been watching too much fucking Jeremy Kyle, she has. That gobbie twat’s got a lot to answer for, mate. Givin these birds bright ideas. If I could get me mitts round his scrawny throat, I’d fucking throttle the cunt.”
    I started building another spliff and he got busy fixing up another syringe full of liquid oblivion. He pumped it into his veins with total narcotic glee and I couldn’t help but think that maybe Kaylee had a point about smackheads being the ultimate selfish bastards.
    The fix kicked in and his lids closed and the head flopped forward, his chin dropped onto his chest. He was crashed out on the couch, drooling and mumbling, in his own secluded zombie-fied zone.
    I finished off the spliff, distracted by some crappy Emerdale soap opera on the telly. I smoked the loaded spliff to the end, if only to make the badly acted scenes of make-believe human drama more riveting. But it bored me shitless and I dozed off.
    It was late at night and I was on the stairwell of the flats; it was dark because the landing lights had been vandalised, smashed up. I was legging it up the piss-soaked stairs and dodging the heroin needles discarded by minging bagheads. I could see the light at the top, bright as the mid-day sun, but then I heard footsteps behind me, in the dark, catching me up. My heart was pounding because I felt like I was being stalked and couldn’t move my feet fast enough. Sweat was pouring out of me and there was a heart-stopping panic as something grabbed hold of my shoulder.
    I bolted upright, rubbing my eyes with sweat oozing out of every pore, my heart thumping loudly in my chest and I was hyper-ventilating. What a nightmare, fucking scary.
    Bangerz was still in his deep coma and it was time to set off down the road to meet up with a proper psycho bastard, a lunatic thug, a menacing character with murderous tendencies in his mind, or to put it another way, my opo Spermy.

4.
    It was getting on now, going dark outside. I walked down the balcony and made for the lift. I really didn’t feel like walking down the stairwell after that spooky dream. The doors of the lift opened to reveal an obviously hammered and slack-bladdered young girl with her trackies and knickers pulled down, relieving herself indiscriminately, spraying the floor with booze-stinking urine.
    I decided I’d give the lift a miss and went down the stairwell, three flights. I could hear dogs barking behind doors, all kinds of snarling, utterly vicious and menacing mutts. They sounded close enough to bite your ears off. But that didn’t stop the robbing, the thieving carried on and possessions stolen.
    All of a sudden I clocked a bird in a pair of skin-tight jeans coming up the steps towards me. I stiffened and noticed she had a tube top on and it was stuffed with a pair of chicken