Danny Boy, Danny Boy

[RENTON.]


Ok, sae ah huvnae really goat the wife an' bairn an' the fucking big television yet, but it's under progress, man, ah swear. Ah jist kinnae be bothered right now.

Ah'm at the airport, waitin fir 'um. Ah bought 'um a ticket an' sent it tae Mother Murphy wi' a wee note sae thit her beloved son cud visit me... She mustuv been mighty puzzled (an' perhaps a wee bit worried oaf 'er arse, eh..?) when she saw a plane ticket fir Amsterdam an' the unsigned note thit seid "Take this to Danny, make sure he gets on the plane."
Ah dunno exactly why ah wanted 'um tae visit me so badly, or if ah even shud take the risk ay relying oan 'um blindly like thit, but it jist happened, ken? Ah've eywis been a spontanous lad, ah dae wha'ivir suits me at the moment, an' thit's thit. If ah wir the brooding, planning type, ah'd probably no be sittin 'ere in Amster, livin the good life. Nae, ah'd be sittin wi shite up to ma dear neck in the Capital of Shite, Shitesville, aka good auld Leith, Edinburgh, an' regretting fir the rest of ma life that ah dinnae jist take the bloody dosh an' run fir it whin ah hud the chance.

Aye, a part ay me regrets it - the part ay me thit wants tae stay alive, thit is. But the devil wi' the "fuck all, ah'll live firivir" attitude in us seis "nae, ye wir rite tae rip the basterds oaf, Sick Boy an' Begbie kin go sell their arses oan the docks fir aw ah care." But when the paranoia sets in, it's fuckin unbearable, an' ah see the vile face ay Franco Begbie aw a-fuckin-roond me. Dunnae really take a genious tae ken whair ah'd be going, ah mean fuckin Amster fir fucks sake, whair pretty much everythin is legal..! Fuckin AMSTER, man! USE YIR BRAIN!! ...But then agin, Sicks and Begs are no the cleverest cunts aroond, no whin it comes tae being yin step aheid thir oldest pal, Mark Renton, the biggest fockin wanker ay thum aw. The wanker thit ripped thum oaf, an' went tae Dam wi the cash tae start fresh...

An' tae git clean.

Yeh, ah'm clean... Awmost. Ah've tried doing the Heinz tomato soup thing, but it seems it dunnae work oot abroad as it did back hame. It sure daes in Scotland, whair skag dun fly aboot in the bloody convenience stores, an' it's only fir a short while, yeh, but at least it works, ken? Ah'm lacking the moral support fae ma friends, ah reason wi masel, an' maybe thit's why ah brought in Comrade Murphy; the yin fuckin man in Edinburgh thit dunnae want tae put an end tae ma days oan God's green earth... But whin ah think aboot the "support" ma sae-called friends wir oh sae eager tae supply me wi' back in the day, ma theory crumbles along wi ma dignity. Whit kind ay lad are ye, if yir mates are so bad, the only moral support ye kin git fae thum is "Anaythin you kin dae, ah kin dae better" [Sick Boy], "Come back whin ye crack" [Swanney] or "Yir a naebody, a junkie fuck, an' yer eywis gonna be thit wey, sae bow doon tae yir superior, lick the shite oaf his boots an' realize thit yir never gunna git yirsel oot ay the mess ye've goatten yirsel intae. Ye fuckin eejit." [thit long rant wis Begbie, as anayone whae kens 'um wud imagine 'um seyin.]
Spud seid nowt, tho. It wis jist quiet observation wi' him, an' yeh, he's a dumb wee tartboy, but whin it comes tae mates, he kens whair his mouth is, an' he kens tae separate it fae his less attractive body orifices... (When he's clean, that is.) Ye sorta huvtae watch yir step like thit whin yir mates wi Mr. Franco Begbie. An' we aw sure goatten used tae thit, watchin oor step.

Whin ah see 'um comin oot wi aw the other passengers, ah realize thit it wun really moral support ah wis looking fir in 'um, cause he looks worse thin masel, like warmed ower shite or something in thit direction. How kin a junkie tryin tae git oaf the skag possibly git oaf the skag wi' another junkie cookin up rite in his face?? Ah guess ah wis jist missin a friend, an yeh, ah feel kind ay content wi' the fact thit ah wis so wise as tae chose jist um, even tho ah kind ay felt sorry aboot ripping oaf Second Prize as well.. Yet, he'd probably jist waste his share oan booze, an' thit's no good at aw. Watch oot fir his kidneys, he shud. Begs and Sicks, ah cudnae given a shite aboot thum two. Begs is an arse, and Sicks... well, Sick Boy is a good friend, but let's face it: he's kind ay an arse, too. Trynna pimp Maria tae Planet ay the Apes like thit. A fuckin tragedy thit is.


..Spud is the only guy ah kin really count oan rite now, he'll no try tae fuck me ower even whin things git rough fir 'um. He's a mate, a real mate, maire a mate thin those two sinister fucks, an ah appreciate thit he's eywis been sae loyal, unselfish an - tae tell the truth - jist rite-doon adorable. Thit's kind ay how ah goat tae liking the doss git in the first place, he's so strangely warm ay heart an looks jist like a wee puppy dog (..ah actually kind ay hate dogs, but ah guess puppies are ok as long as they dunnae pish oan me - but thin agin, they tend tae dae thit), sae ye kinnae hate 'um. We wir both jist lads back whin we first met, the same age but hardly the same size, an ah felt like ah hudtae take um under ma wing, somehow. Ah still try tae keep 'um under there, under my wing, even whin ah'm no aroond... See, the weird thing is, it's like he nivir really grew oot ay his childish optimism. Ah dunno how many times ah've seid it, but ah swear tae ye: Ye'll nivir find a grown man mair pure-hearted, fragile, innocent an loaded wi youthful enthusiasm as ma dear auld cunt Danny Murphy. He's sortay pathetic like thit, but ye kinnae hauld it against 'um fir shite. It's jist his wey.

...Spud Murphy, ye huvtae love the Irish cunt; ye kin shite aw ower his face, but he'll still come back smilin.


He's rite in front oaf us now, an the look oan his face is as miserable as his general appearance. Is he still mad at me? ah wonder tae masel. Technically, ah dinnae fuck um ower, no financially, anywey, seein as he did git his share ay the treasure, but then ah left 'um tae the dogs. Shudnae huv dun thit. Ye cud say thit socially, ah fucked 'um royally. Ah wis the only cunt in the gang that really hud even a remote sense ay respect fir the guy - even tho he wis a loser an a fuck up oaf unknown dimensions - an' leaving um tae Sick Simon an' Generalissimo like thit wis oot ay line, even fir sumyin like me. Ah realize thit now.


..But nae, the cunt's miserable frown turns intae the silly wee smile we aw know an' love (at least ah dae, Sick Boy tends tae grit at the mere sight ay those crooked teeth.) whin he sees me.

"Ah, hullo, Rents, man..." he slurs incoherently, as eywis. He seems tired, sleepy. No jist spaced oot, but really, really tired, like. "Rents... Fuckin good tae see ya, mate. An, eh, thanks fir slippin me the dosh, rite catboy." Spud tries tae pop us in the shoodir, friendly like, but his arm seems tae lack sum strength. Fir a puny junkie fuck, he's eywis been surprisingly strong, but jist no taeday. Taeday, Spud's heid is restin oan ma shoodir in oor taxi, an he's talkin aboot partying aw night an Jewish princesses an' thit shite. But ah ken thit lad's too far intae Dreamland fir partying.
"Ah, Rents... Wir gunna huv' oorsels a grand feast.... Smack, liquor an Jewish prin...cess..... uuhhzzzz........." This is whin he starts dozin oaf fir real, an whin we git oot ay the cab ah huvtae practically fuckin drag 'um up the stairs tae ma humble Amsterdam flat. Ah put 'um tae bed - MA bed actually, while ah sleep oan the couch, am ah no a fuckin saint?? - an he sleeps aw night an aw ay the next day as well, takin nae pauses, neither tae piss, shite, eat... or git a hit, fir that matter. Shud be fuckin clean whin he gits oot ay it. Whitivir it is thit makes um look like bloody Sleeping Beauty right now.

("Sleeping Beauty"??? ...Well, fuck me.)

Time tae git tae work.

Ah've gotten masel a nice wee gig as a bartender (no a dole-parasite anaymaire, thank God), but it's no really thit great... Anyweys, when ah come hame aroond dawn - as ah eywis do, seeing as ah've been awarded the glorius night shift, hooray! - fi servin ganjateens an' sad aul' gits doon at the pub, ah find um wide awake after his seemingly everlasting hibernation.

"Hud a good sleep, did ye?"

"Great man," he seis, but he's fully dressed an' dun' really look like he's been sleepin fir 40 hours at aw. He mustuv goatten up jist after ah left.
When ah take a closer look at the interior ay the gaff, ah notice sumthins changed drastically... Nae, Spud hudnae goan an' stolen ma telly or anythin, he cud, but he won't, no wi us he won't. Nae, it's sumthin completely different....

Thair are nae plates wi' green, fuzzy food oan any ay the tables, the sink is empty an' clean, the dirty clothing thit once decorated ma living- an bedroom floor fae wall tae wall are long gone.

Whit is going oan here.

This... is madness. He's actually CLEANED THE PLACE.

"Ah.. Ah took the liberty, likesay, tae tidyin up a bit, Rents, if it's awrite, man... Need tae git, like, organized, ken?"

Spud has nivir been a tidy person, but he's sure as hell eywis been helpful, an' he's keener oan pointing oot other people's mess thin his ain. Ah feel ah'm gettin kind ay annoyed, but the feeling ay relief is sae much greater. A huge weight has been lifted oaf ma shoodirs.
Ah git closer tae um, an he looks like he thinks ah'm goin tae git mad, but nae, oan the contrary: Ah embrace the wee basterd.

He smells like cloth conditioner.


.....Why am ah smelling um??


"Uhm... Rents..? Renton?"

Ah realize ah've been huggin the guy fir a longer time thin ah estimated ah wud, an ah release 'um whin ah feel his body growing tense aginst me, like he's seriously uncomfortable wi' this. "Are ye all rite thair, Renton?" Spud carefully asks, looking at us worriedly, an' his brow wrinkles in thit abnormal fashion. Ah try tae compose masel wi' a sly remark - "Nivir been better, man" - an' end wi a desperate solution: "Wunna git a fix??" His confidence in me boosts at thit suggestion, an ah see his face light up like a roof ay a Belfast wooden house during a riot.


As he pits oan his jaykit, turns awey fi us an' heids fir the door, ah bite ma lip in embarrassment an' swear silently.

Such a fuckin eejit...