Gurriers Read Online Free PDF Page A

mop an’ landin’ on yer pizza, an’ tha’d count as meat, Ger!”
    “ Ye’d find a wider range of life forms in those filthy ears of yours than in my hair, ye little fuckin’ maggot!” The Gizzard’s retort identifying him as the one with the big nose in the jacket that was about ten years old and seemed to be held together with strips of black duct tape.
    “There’s no fucker goin’ to be comin’ near this fuckin’ pizza wi’ any fuckin’ life forms, yis shower o’ cunts! Now fuck off, the fuckin’ lot of yez an’ let me eat me bi’ o’ fuckin’ lunch in peace.”
    Now I knew which one Ger was also – he was the little angry one with the scar on his face that looked as if he’d bite your nose off if you annoyed him.
    “You fuckin’ started on me over that time ye hid me bike, ye stressed ou’ little fuck!” the Gizzard roared at Ger while facing him in a squaring off manner.
    I did not like the look of this one little bit and had already measured the distance between me and the door as two big leaping steps with no obstacles in between just in case I had to high tail it out of there.
    At this stage, I was beginning to think that the whole courier idea was a mistake as Ger got to his feet slowly and menacingly while snarling through gritted teeth.
    “I didn’t try to put you off yer fuckin’ lunch tho’, did I? You smelly piece of shit.”
    The Gizzard wasn’t backing down. “You pu’ everyone off their fuckin’ lunch all the time jus’ by fuckin’ walkin’ into the base, ye ugly little fuck!”
    I, on the other hand, had started backing towards the door.
    “You’re standin’ there as bold as brass wi’ tha’ fuckin’ monstrosity of a hooter pointin’ in front of ye like a fuckin’ weather vane for all to see an’ you have the sheer fuckin’ audacity to call me ugly. Look in the fuckin’ mirror, ye gobshite ye, an’ den call me fuckin’ names.”
    “Right, that’s it!” As the Gizzard roared he leapt over the corner of the table between him and Ger, arms widely outstretched to be certain to get a hold of some part of him. Ger had been a little slow to react, so the Gizzard found purchase with both of his hands and managed to drag Ger over the corner of the table and automatically off balance. At this stage I had decided to just get the hell out of there, away from this place never to return and to forget forever any notions of becoming a courier and having to mix with these animals. This was not for me.
    I was, however, mesmerised by the physical struggle and just eased myself out of range with my back to the wall and continued to look on as the Gizzard overpowered the wildly struggling Ger. I was terrified by what was going on in front of me and genuinely did fear for my safety; for all I knew, this was going to turn into an all out battle where I was liable to be attacked myself. Looking around the room to ascertain any threat of possible attack, I was surprised to see that none of the other couriers or the man in shirt sleeves seemed to be bothered by the struggle going on in front of them, seemingly more amused than threatened by what looked to me like a life or death struggle. What sort of people were these that could take something so dangerous and deadly in their stride? Definitely not my sort of people.
    “Who’s the daddy?” the Gizzard shouted.
    In the moments that I had been looking away, the Gizzard had manoeuvred Ger to be in front of him facing the same direction and had forced his torso flat on the table with his left hand while grabbing the waistband at the back of his leathers with the right one. As he roared, he mimicked sex with his victim, much to my surprise, and amazement.
    “Squeal like a pig, boy!”
    “Fu...ck off.” Ger’s words being broken by the effect of the elbows and back-heels he was wildly swinging at his assailant, who had little difficulty in dodging them.
    “We sure do have a lively one here, boys. I’m goin’ to have you