Yesterdays blog about me violating a pensioners arse via Instagram brought to mind another occasion I tormented the elderly. Today's a bank holiday so let's relax and enjoy this disgusting true story of utter filth.
The year was 1997. I was a joiner running my own wee double glazing firm making and fitting timber windows.
On the day in question I was fitting 3 windows on the third floor of a tenement flat in Ibrox for some guy that buys flats in ill repair, refurbishes them then rents them out. The flat I was working in was just a shell.
Anyway, I bolted to the toilet my trousers at my knees before I opened the door and couldn't believe my eyes -The toilet hadn't been fitted yet!!! Not even a fucking sink !!
All sorts of crazy thoughts flashed through my head and I actually did think of crapping out the back window with my arse out the window but at the corner of my eye I seen something that saved the day -A shoebox!
Ya dancer !!
A wee portable lavvy
Without wanting to be overly graphic I very quickly emptied my liquid mess into the shoebox.
The plan now was to take the shoebox down to the binsheds round the back, walk up to the Clachan Bar and gie myself a wee wash. I got to the back door but the bastarding thing was locked. I was like "ach fuck it, I'll just place it somewhere discreet on my way up the street and let some junkie thinking they've found new shoes get a wee treat" but as if by magic a wee wummin appeared holding the back door key aloft in one hand and a polly bag full of empty sweetie wrappers and was like "Oh here son, wait i'll take that to the bins for yae"
Aw naw man
Pure panicking I said "Oh no no no I'll take that to the bins for you" but she was a no nonsense wee wummin and said I was to "get back tae ma graft" and she placed her hands on the shoebox of horrors. I held it over like a woman who'd changed her mind about adopting handing over her baby. Pure reluctant as fuck but knowing I was now committed.
I told her not to look inside it as my shoes were smelly and she just smiled at me all comforting like a woman that had smelt it aw.
I bolted up the stairs, into the flat and ran to the back windae to see if she'd have a wee peek.
Couldnae see her
Where was she?
Just then from the binsheds out she popped. She was rubbing her clearly watering eyes. I assume she'd just been sick. She never had that same wee bounce in her step that she had as I watched her embark on her journey to the binshed.
I got back to work. Fuck it man. Wasnae my fault was it man?
15 minutes later a car pulls up, youngish guy driving. It parked dead angrily. I could tell by the way he pulled up the handbrake he wasnae best pleased. I just hit the deck and lay there. The car door slammed and I heard voices in the close.
The voices moved to the street. I picked myself up and peeked out. Angry son looking up to the houses looking for me and joined by a neighbour with the auld maw looking totally distraught.
I went back to the floor till the car went away. Just lying there for a full 37 minutes in pure limbo.
What the fuck did she call her son for?
Did she tell him "Son come round, a mans just gave me a box of shite"? Was her son driving to hers furious saying out loud "A box of shite? My maw? A box of fucking shite?"
ffs man she's seen wars and everything.
I think she took that right out of all proportion.