SkinMarvin Gay Stories

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Chapter 13

It was the smell of cooking that woke David from his stupor. The meagre amount of alcohol he took the night before was more than he'd ever had before in his life and it had quite literally knocked him out. He woke up, still in his kit from the previous night, and still wearing a damp patch round his crotch where Charlie had anointed him with piss so generously.

David came down the stairs to find his three "housemates" sitting tucking into huge plates of food, and Spider (the big ugly teardrop-tattoo skin from the pub the night before) sitting with them drinking Special Brew straight from the can.

"Ah, there's fuckin Sleepin Beauty now," said Charlie, which caused the other three to laugh. David managed a smile. "There's some breakfast in the fuckin fryin pan," nodded Buster to David, who was obviously supposed to help himself. David came back from the kitchen having gotten himself a plate of fried potatoes and a (chipped) mug of tea.

"Well, Son," asked Spider, "still happy to be a fuckin skinhead, these lads have been tellin me how you and Buster met up?"

"I think so," replied David gingerly.

"You'd fuckin better be happy," said Charlie, matter-of-factly, "cos you ain't fuckin bein allowed to change back, not after all the fuckin hard work we've put in these last few days on ya!"

"Ah, well, after a few weeks livin here you'll never want to be any other way," said Spider with a big smile on his face, as he lit up his umpteenth red (judging by the full ashtray on the floor beside his chair).

"I'm glad I'm here, Charlie," said David trying to sound sincere, "I fuckin am."

"Well that's fuckin good cos we've found a way to make yerself useful," replied Charlie, "Spider's here to get ya to fill in a few forms for him," he continued. "Ain't that so, Big Fucker?"

"Yep," affirmed Spider. Then, addressing David, he handed some official looking papers to the young lad. David could see that the heading on them was from the Local City Council.

"I don't understand," said David, looking quizzingly at Spider.

"Well I need those forms filled in, and I fuckin can't fill them in myself, can I??" he asked, almost rhetorically.

Charlie butted in quickly. "Oi, kid, I nearly forgot, what time's that fuckin exam of yours tomorrow? The lads and I were wondering....." David raised his stubbled eyebrows, thinking to himself that such a thing would ever occur to any of the other skinheads in the room. "Yeah, go and get yer exam card and let me see what time you gotta be there at, we'll have to get you there some way...." continued Charlie. It sounded like an order, so David went upstairs to fetch it from his inside bomber pocket where he'd been storing it since he picked it up from his own bedroom back in the safety of suburbia.

"Ten a.m." he announced as he came back into the room, "I'm dreading fuckin going dressed like this though," he added, "all my school friends won't fuckin recognise me." The gang laughed at the understatement.

"OK, Spider, where are your forms to be filled in?" asked David as he sat down, handing his exam entrance card to Charlie's outstretched hand to inspect. David thought that Spider was obviously illiterate and couldn't fill in the forms himself - he had seen by now they were an application for a job. "Here you are, young fuckin smart skinhead" teased Spider as he handed the forms to David, "Sure you don't mind fillin em in?" "No problem," said the young lad, "I'll fill them in for you, glad to help."

Buster and Nisbo just smiled to each other. "Yeah, fuckin nice to have a fuckin intellectual in the family now, ain't it, Buster?" said Nisbo, digging the other skin in the ribs with his elbow. "Fuck yeah," replied Buster, still smiling. It looked to David as if the skins had nothing better to do than to watch him fill in Spider's job application.

Buster handed his open pack of reds to David, who accepted without question. "Good lad," said Buster, "never refuse a ciggie from yer big brother!" David picked up the form.

"What name shall I fill in here, your name, Spider?"

"Fuckin cheeky little cunt you are, ain't ya," replied the big man, laughing, "I can fill that bit in meself at fuckin least!!" David smiled. He read out the next question. "Position applied for........"

"Waste Disposal Sorting Operative"

"Date available to take up employment if offered.....?"

"Put fuckin tomorrow in, that'll do them, I reckon"

David continued reading out the questions until they were all through. All innocuous, all normal, Spider telling him what to write at each pause. By the end of two ciggies, David had completed the answers Spider had given him. "What's a Waste Disposal Sorting Operative, Spider?" asked the young skin as he put down his pen after filling in the fact that Spider had no previous experience of the type of work he was applying for.

"It's fuckin government speak for a binman, kid, a fuckin binman, that's what it is," he began, "takin somethin fuckin ordinary and honest and givin it a high-and-fuckin-mighty title." This was a theme that Spider could obviously wax long and lyrical about. David just nodded as Spider continued, "Well I tell ya lad, I'm fuckin proud to be a binman, kid, proud of it." Spider's voice tailed off.

"But.....but, if you're a binman already, why are you applying for the same job? Is it with another company?" asked David, puzzled. The big visitor with the teardrops tattoo on his face didn't reply but just stared back at David, and for the first time that morning, he was speechless. There was silence around the table. David didn't get it as he looked from face to face, all staring straight back at him. "What?"

Buster picked up the pen. "Sign yer own name on the form, kid," he said slowly and seriously, looking at David right in the eyes. "But I don't underst..."

"Sign it," repeated Buster, just a tad louder. Slowly the penny dropped. Obviously David was being made to apply for a job for himself.

"Oh, no please Buster, please. Buster, I don't know that I could be a fuckin binman, I really am not cut out for...."

"Sign it."

Charlie broke the tension with a cough, "Time for another fag," he said. David did a double-take as he saw the big skin lighting the cigarette with the exam entrance card, with his ticket to university. "Awww, fuck, Charlie..." he cried as he lunged over the table trying to salvage what was left of the card. "Now I won't even be allowed into the hall," cried David as he slumped back in his chair, seeing the last of his examination card smoulder in the already-full ashtray.

He couldn't help it, his bottom lip began to quiver. "I fuckin didn't reckon on this..." he began, still managing to use the F word, to his credit. This was probably the first time it came out naturally. "Sign it," said Charlie, mercilessly, handing David the pen.

What could he do, thought David. All hope of university was lying in the ashtray. Despite all that had happened in the last two days, David knew he was still clever enough to be able to sail into university, tattooed head or no tattooed head. But not without an entrance exam or A-levels. He knew quick as a flash that if he turned up looking the way he did, pleading that he'd lost his card, the invigilators would take one look at him and call the police. The silence around the table drove him to pick up the blue biro pen. He signed. "And fuckin fill yer full name in at the top while yer at it!" said Charlie, adding insult to injury.

As soon as David put the pen down again, Spider triumphantly snatched the form away. "You start at eight tomorrow mornin, and I fuckin expect my lads on time," he said, half-laughing, half-serious, "Oh, and because you showed such fuckin promise at yer interview, I'm goin to fuckin get you onto a permanent contract straight away!!" Spider was going to be David's boss, obviously.

"But," began David, "but I don't know anything about..."

"Don't fuckin matter, kid," replied Spider, not waiting to find out what it was that David knew nothing about, "Don't worry lad, it don't take no fuckin university degree to be able to shovel other people's crap that's fallen off the conveyor belt into a furnace, does it lad? We've agreed that I'll give yer wages directly to Buster each week to stop ya spendin em foolish."

"Please, Spider, I don't think I can do this, I'm not...."

"Eight o'clock, kid, and be wearin what's in that bin bag over there," he said, pointing to a black binliner in the corner of the room.

Before David could advance any more objections, Charlie butted in, "Right, that's that fuckin settled, time for a bit of a celebration, our kid's got a new job!" David looked as if he would burst into tears any second. "Buster, get the wine from the fridge," laughed Charlie. Buster returned from the kitchen a few seconds later with two six-packs of Special Brew, and began handing them round, including to David.

"Look, I don't fuckin want to celebrate this, and I don't fuckin want to work as a binman, really I don't," began David, as he got up to leave. "You're all havin a great laugh at this and it's me who's paying for it...."

"Sit yerself down, kid, and get a fuckin beer in ya," said Charlie, raising his voice slightly agitated. "No, Charlie, you can't expect me to join in a......" Charlie didn't let the kid finish. As quick as lightning he was out of his chair, "Fuckin hold him," he ordered, as he grabbed David's face and pushed him back into the chair. "Listen, you fuckin spoilt little cunt," he menaced as Buster and Spider held David back in the chair, "you will go tomorrow and you will do a fuckin honest day's work, and you will fuckin LIKE IT," he practically screamed the last two words. "Now fuckin drink to it," he said more quietly as his big hand prised open David's jaws. Glug, glug, glug went the Special Brew as Charlie poured the liquid in. "Swallow it down, boy, swallow it.......That's better, kid, that's better....take the whole can...." David just stared up in abject fear, swallowing for all he was worth. He'd pissed Charlie off, big time. "Buster, bring the kid another brew, he's fuckin finished this one already...the young pisshead." David let out a massive belch.

Buster put another one in front of the young lad, as Charlie let go of his grip. "Get the next beer started now, kid," said Charlie, at eye level with the young lad. "Sorry, Charlie," was all that forelorn David could manage as he obediently opened the second can. He sat quietly sipping his Special Brew.

"Right, mates, I'll be off," said Spider, "see ya in the mornin, Pisshead, eight o'clock," obviously meaning David. David didn't reply, just about managing a nod. The weight of the full can of beer helped steady his hand. He was still shaking from Charlie's treatment. As soon as Charlie and Spider were out in the hall, Buster advised the young lad not to piss Charlie off again and to have a smoke to steady his nerves. David reached for his fags, doing as Uncle Buster told him. "Don't worry, lad, Spider will look after ya, am sure," said Buster trying to reassure the boy. David lit up and took another slug of beer. To an outsider, had there been one there, he would have looked like a professional skinhead. After two days. To the others, he looked like the beginner he was. All that David could think of himself was the next morning......

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