Pests (NHB Modern Plays)

him. ‘Stop tearin’, I telt. ‘Stop fuckin’ tearin’, you baby, you fuckin’ pussy baby.’ An’ he telt I can have everyfing he got an’ he gived me all da greens an’ his watch an all. ‘Ta,’ I telt him, ‘Ta very muchness.’

PINK. I’s on me toes, man. On me toes. I telt him, don’t touch me. Take dem paws off me, man. ’S what I telt, innit. He withdrewed his paws an’ I nutted him. I nutted him proper in da face. Fell over, claret all over his mush. Runnin’ all down. Gloop an’ shit runnin’ down his mush. Rushin’. Stuck in his eyebrow. Pop. Dat’s how it went. Pop… Just like – (Beat.) Just like ragin’. Like I was ragin’. Telt him. If he ever did dat again, I knife him. Knock him out. Splice him. End him. Fuckin’ end him. Tryin’ it. (Beat.) It was a deal. A fuckin’ done deal. I let you fuck me. You give me da twenty. Ain’t nuttin complicated ’bout it. Do you know what he telt, fuckin’ dirty bastard? Fuckin’ ugly greasy tool. He telt. He telt… ‘I thought it was a bogof. Buy one, get one free.’ He thought a fuck would get him a free suck. I telt, ‘What do you think this is?’ I telt. ‘I ain’t Tesco. I ain’t fuckin’ Tesco. I don’t offer no loyalty points. My cunt ain’t trademarked. It ain’t Tesco or Asda or Morrisons or even fuckin’ M&S. “This is not just an ordinary cunt, it an M&S cunt.” Nah, it ain’t. My cunt is independent. It is an independent outlet. I am not a chain. My body is not part of no chain. I am not situationed in a retail park.’ He telt, ‘You are actually.’ An’ I eyeballed round, an’ I was. Never realised. Was outside TK Maxx. Seed these shoes. Winkin’ at me. Seed these fuckin’ unbelievable red rouge shimmy shoes. Thinked ‘Rolly should have dem on her foots. Dey would be aces on my sister Rolly.’ Thinked ‘Gotta get dem, gotta get Rolly dem shoes, dem shoes shimmying an’ winkin’ out at me, teltin’ me, teltin’ me zig-a-zig-ah, signage, zig-a-zig-ah, need to get dem glittery shimmy shoes.’ Dat’s when he grabbed me. He grabbed me right on da tit. Hard, pinched me. Nutted him. Felted fuckin’ brilliant. Felted fuckin’ yeah. Yeah. Crunched my foot on his facebones. Screamin’ like a fuckin’ baby. Kicked him in da cunt. He all, ‘Please. Nah.’ Tooked his wallet. Portrait of his missus an’ two pups, one of dem in a, like, a graduation dress ting an’ one of dem ’versity hats. Telt to him, ‘You must be proper puffed up.’ An’ den I telt him, ‘Gonna go round your ’ouse, gonna sit down on your DFS an’ have a cup of Yorkshire wiv your wife an’ munch McVitie’s an’ wave hi to your pups an’ den gonna telt ’em dat you’s a dirty fuckin’ bastard.’ An’ he starts bubblin’ up. All this way an’ dat. An’ he make me puke. He make me feel like… I wanna fuckin’