Reheated Cabbage Read Online Free PDF Page A

at them: what is this, what's happening to me?
    But again, nobody can hear me. No, that's no quite right. There's one fucker who seems to be able to; this fat old boy with white hair, who's wearing a dark blue suit. He gives me the thumbs up. The old cunt seems to have a glow about him, with shards of incandescent light emanating from him.
    I move across to him, completely invisible to the rest of the congregation, just as he seems to be. — You . . . you can hear me. You ken the Hampden Roar here. What the fuck is this?
    The old guy just smiles and points at the coffin at the front of the mourners. — Nearly late for yir ain fuckin funeral thaire, mate, he laughs.
    — But how? What happened tae me?
    — Aye, ye died when you were on the job with your mate's sister. Congenital heart problem you didn't even know about.
    Fuck me. I wis mair ill than I thought. — But . . . who are you?
    — Well, the old boy grins, — I'm what you'd call an angel. I'm here to assist you in your passage over to the other side. He coughs, raising his hand to his face, stifling a laugh. — Pardon the pun, he chuckles. — I've had all sorts of names in different cultures. It might help you tae think of me as one of the ones I'm least fond of: St Peter.
    The confirmation ay my death induces in me a bizarre elation, and no small relief. — So I'm deid! Thank fuck for that! It means I never shagged my mates up the arse. Ye hud me worried for a bit there!
    The old angel cunt shakes his heid slowly and grimly. — You're not over to the other side yet.
    — What d'ye mean?
    — You're a restless spirit, wandering the Earth.
    — How come?
    — Punishment. This is your penance.
    I'm no having this. — Punishment? Me? What the fuck have ah done wrong? I ask the bastard.
    The auld guy smiles like a double-glazing salesman who's about tae tell me there's nowt they can dae aboot their crappy installation. — Well, Joe, the truth is that you're not a bad guy, but you have been a bit misogynistic and homophobic. So your punishment is to make you walk the Earth as a homosexual ghost buggering your old mates and acquaintances.
    — No way! No way am ah gaunny dae that! You cannae fuckin well make me . . . I say, lamely tailing off as I realise that the sick old bastard has been doing exactly that.
    — Aye, this is your punishment for being a queer basher, the angel gadge smiles again. — I'm going to watch and laugh at you being crippled with guilt. Not only am I going to make you do it, Joe, I'm going to make you keep doing it until you enjoy it.
    — No way. You must be fuckin joking. I'll never enjoy that. I point at myself.— Never! You cunt . . . I spring at the bastard, ready to throttle him, but in another swish of sound and flash of light he's gone.
    I sit at a vacant seat at the back of the chapel, my head in my hands. I look around at the congregation. Lucy has come up for it, she's sitting quite close to me. That's nice of her. Must've been a fuckin shock for her. One minute you've a stiffer inside ye, the next it's just a stiff. Charlie's there too, he's with Ian and Murdo at the back of the hall.
    They are all standing up.
    Then I see him. That dirty old cunt of a priest.
    Father Brannigan. Him, putting me to rest! That filthy, evil auld cunt!
    I'm looking over at my parents, screaming silently at them for this appalling betrayal. I mind of me saying to them, I dinnae want tae be an altar boy any mair, Ma, and my mother being so disappointed. My old man never gave a fuck. Let the laddie dae what eh wants, he said. But when I didnae come tae our Angela's communion and I couldnae tell them why . . .
    Aw fuck . . . that dirty old cunt touching me, and worse, making me do things to him . . .
    I never would, never could say. Never. Never even thought about it. I always vowed he'd fuckin well get it one day. Now he's here, he's sending me off, his pious lies ringing throughout this chapel.
    — Joseph Hutchinson was a kind, sensitive, young