Daft Wee Stories (16 page)

Janice's scalp began to tear open. It started with a small rip near the top of the head, before extending all the way down to each of her ears. Blood trickled down her forehead and neck.

‘Where did you get it?' she asked Tracy. ‘New Look?' Her scalp slid forwards slowly towards the front of her face. Her hairline crept down to where her eyebrows used to be, causing her forehead to fold into a flap that rested above the top of her nose like a bulldog.

‘Monsoon,' said Tracy.

‘Right. D'you know there's a half-price sale on at New Look?' said Janice, her face now hanging inside out off the front of her skull. ‘I don't know if you like the stuff in there, but if Monsoon gives you a refund, you could just nip across to New Look. Maybe leave with two tops instead of one!' Her face hung upside down from her chin like a beard.

‘That's a good idea,' said Tracy. ‘I like some of the stuff in New Look, I'll give that a shot. I'm sure Monsoon will give me a refund, I haven't worn it. Anyway, what about you, what d'you get?'

‘Just grabbing a few essentials,' said Janice, saying ‘essentials' in a funny voice, in a kind of ‘essentials, as they say' way. Her face was red and wet like half a tomato. ‘T-shirts for bed, that type of thing.'

‘I might grab a few myself,' said Tracy. ‘Well, I better get up there before there's nothing left.'

‘Good luck,' said Janice, as her face tore away from her chin and dropped on the floor with a slap. ‘I hope you nab yourself a bargain!'

‘Thanks,' said Tracy, as Janice turned to walk away. ‘Oh, by the way …'

Janice turned back. ‘What?'

Tracy took a step towards Janice, lowering her voice to a whisper. ‘Your face fell off.'

Janice touched her skull. She looked at her hands and saw the blood. She looked down and, sure enough, there was her face. She put it back on.

‘Thanks,' said Janice, rolling her eyes at herself. She gave Tracy a wave and headed out.

Tracy headed up to Monsoon. They offered her a refund, but she just swapped it for something else, something in Monsoon.

She didn't like New Look.

Alec hated coming here. Why the fuck did they have to call it a sexual health clinic? Why did they have to have a big sign above the door that said ‘Sexual Health Clinic'? Anybody could see him. Anybody.

‘I saw Alec going into that sexual health clinic,' they'd say.

‘Are you sure?'

‘Of course I'm sure, there was a big sign above the door that said Sexual Health Clinic. That means that Alec's penis has a disease of some kind.'

Could they not change the sign to something else, like ‘Caledonian Airlines' or ‘Machine Factory'? There were buses that passed here, for fuck's sake, buses full of people who looked out their window to see if they could see anything interesting, people who probably crane their necks when they see that ‘Sexual Health Clinic' sign, hoping to spot somebody they know. It would only be a matter of time before that somebody they know was him.

And those were just the problems you faced on the outside, before you stepped through the door. When you got in, there were people everywhere who knew exactly why you were there. A whole waiting room full of them. In a way, though, that wasn't so bad. It was far safer in here than it was out there, not much of a chance of having the finger pointed at you or you being blabbed about. Glass houses and all that.

But despite that feeling of safety, he thought it wouldn't hurt to appear to have less cause for embarrassment than the others. As he passed the waiting room on his way out, he kept his back straight and head held high, as if to say, ‘Aye, I've got something, but it isn't as bad as what you've got.' He was sure that everybody else did the same.

‘Excuse me, son,' came an elderly voice from the side. ‘You there, with the green jacket.' Alec wondered who the fuck was trying to strike up a conversation with him in this place. A neighbour? An uncle? He couldn't imagine anything good coming from it. But it was cool. When he looked around, he saw a sixty-year-old guy in blue overalls, standing outside a ‘Staff Only' door. It was the janitor. He opened the door and tapped on the vacuum cleaner at his feet. ‘You couldn't give me a hand with this, could you?'

Alec helped the janitor lift the vacuum down a flight of concrete stairs to his wee office in the basement. There was a desk littered with paperwork, and a giant cork-board on the wall pinned with handwritten notes and printouts. Elsewhere was the usual janny sort of stuff, like brushes, ladders, sponges, sprays, screwdrivers, boxes of tools, and general shite lying around that probably came in handy at some point. Alec thought old guys like this had died out long ago, replaced by contracts to cleaning companies or whatever, but somehow this guy had managed to cling on.

‘Just over there,' said the janny, pointing to a corner of the room where he had another two or three vacuums on stand by. Alec lifted the vacuum over himself. ‘Oh, I remember the days I could do that,' said the janny. ‘But it's my back, you see. Sorry.'

‘No bother,' said Alec, before plonking it down and heading for the door. ‘See you later.'

‘I bet you wish you could head out this way, eh?'

‘What's that?' asked Alec.

‘I'm saying I bet you wish this was the way out, down this way. Under the ground. Like a tunnel, you know?'

Alec smiled. ‘Oh right, aye, I get you.'

‘D'you know what I mean? Cos this place is a … you know? The sign out at that front door. They should have a wee tunnel.'

‘Aye, I know what you mean.'

The janny laughed. He had about five teeth. ‘That's the good thing about working here. If anybody sees me coming in, they'll just think I'm starting my shift. But for all they know, I've got that fucking AIDS, hahaha!'

Alec nodded, and looked at the door.

‘No, I shouldn't laugh, it's must be terrible for you, son. I'm past it, but you're in your prime. The last thing you want is it getting out that you've got something, you know? I'm telling you, a wee tunnel, that would do the trick.'

‘Aye,' said Alec, ‘but then that wee tunnel would have to have a sign over it instead, so people knew where it went.'

‘Oh here, right enough. Fuck, you cannae win, eh?'

‘No.' Alec looked at the door. The janny seemed like a nice guy, but probably didn't get much company.

‘But they've got to do something,' the old guy went on. ‘Because there's a lot to lose. Socially, that is, you know? There's a lot of ignorant people out there, immature people, who would think it was funny to come up to you in front of a lassie you're seeing and tell her about your willy. Tell her what she's in for. Fuck, you wouldn't get your end away for years. Not in this town anyway.'

Alec laughed nervously. ‘Don't, mate, you're scaring me. It's fucking terrifying.'

‘Oh, don't mean to scare you. I'm just saying that they should take all that seriously, your privacy and whatnot. That sort of thing can ruin your life. But I'll tell you, you want something to be scared of?' The janny typed on an invisible keyboard. ‘That's what you should be scared of.'

‘Computers?' said Alec.

‘Aye, computers. Once a secret gets out on there, Jesus, it's everywhere, just like that,' and he snapped his fingers. ‘But that's not the scariest thing. The scariest thing is that that's where all your secrets are kept. That's what they do upstairs, they type all your stuff into their computers, and it all goes off to this one big computer. Can you believe that? It's like telling all your intimate wee secrets to the neighbourhood gossip, and hoping she keeps her mouth shut.'

‘Aye, but it's all quite safe and secure and all that, isn't it?' asked Alec. He was beginning to feel vulnerable. Vulnerable enough to be asking an old guy about data security.

‘Son, anybody can read about what you've got going on in your pants, if they wanted to. The doctors, the receptionist. Me, even.'

‘You could?' asked Alec.

‘Aye, anybody could. The police. The papers. Some guy in your work with something against you. And you hear about these leaks, don't you? Mind you …'

Alec drifted off a moment. The old guy was right. Every now and then there would be something in the news about another leak, where a hacker group would share the private information of hundreds of thousands of people in a twisted effort to point out the evils of something or other. Sometimes it was bank card details, sometimes it was usernames and passwords. Sooner or later the medical records would surface, presented in a convenient, searchable database for everybody to have fun with on their lunch break.

Genital herpes.

‘… the stuff on the computers isn't something I worry about myself,' continued the janny. ‘I deleted the lot. I just went on when nobody was there and I just deleted the lot. The lot of my stuff, I mean. It's none of their business, that's the way I see it.'

‘So you've actually got in and looked at your stuff and …'

‘Aye, that's what I'm telling you. That's how I know about all this. But don't you fucking tell any of them, son, they'd hand me my jotters. My pension would go up in smoke.'

‘I won't tell any of them, don't worry,' said Alec. ‘But d'you reckon you could get rid of some of my stuff?'

‘Son, I don't want to do anything like that,' said the janny, holding up his hands. ‘I told you, if I got caught …'

‘You won't get caught, just go in and delete it, and that's it done.'

‘Well, it isn't as simple as that. I'd have to keep deleting it, wouldn't I? The next time you're here, the doctor would type it back in.'

Alec pulled out his wallet. ‘Look, I'll make it worth your while.'

‘No, son, put it away, you'll get me fucking jailed.'

‘How much?'

‘Look, I'll take you back upstairs,' said the janny, about to get out of his seat. ‘C'mon.'

‘No, how much?' Alec pulled out a handful of notes.

The janny sighed and shook his head. He looked at the door, then looked back to Alec. ‘I'm gonnae get jailed, I fucking know I am. Fifty quid, I don't know. Gimme fifty.'

Alec handed over fifty quid. The janny stuck it in his pocket, keeping his eyes glued to the door. ‘But that's every time. That's fifty quid every time you're in.'

‘What?!'

‘Forget it then,' said the janny, reaching into his pocket to hand back the cash.

‘Right, fifty every time then.'

The janny nodded, then gave Alec a pen and a bit of paper to write down his name and date of birth, and what it was he wanted deleted. Alec scribbled it down fast before the janny had the chance to back out of the deal, then he shook the old guy's hand to set it in stone. Alec headed for the door and looked back to thank the janny, but the janny didn't seem in the mood for goodbyes, his head bowed, his eyes shut, and his hands rubbing his temples as he no doubt thought about his pension. But Alec was sure he'd be fine. He hoped so anyway.

When Alec left the front door of the sexual health clinic, his back was straight and his head was held high, except this time it wasn't an act. A bus approached on its way past the clinic, which would usually have Alec practically diving behind a tree. But this time he didn't see the point. He was in the clear. Just check the records if you don't believe him.

And as the day finished at the clinic, the janitor locked up his office, said goodbye to the receptionist and shuffled out the door.

Where he hopped into his bright red Lamborghini and rolled the fuck out of there.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,' said Matthew. ‘Welcome to the show!'

The sound of applause filled the school gym hall. Parents and teachers clapped their hands. Some of them were smiling, but not all. Most of them weren't smiling. Some were actually scowling, arms folded. There was a bit of history here, you see.

It had taken a lot of convincing to get this show to happen, a lot of convincing. With all the cutbacks at the school, it seemed like a luxury they couldn't afford. The building was falling apart, they were running out of paper, they couldn't even afford a pair of spare shorts for children who had forgotten to bring theirs in for PE, they had to just run about in their trousers.

Morale was low, negativity was rife, people moaned but they knew that nothing would ever change.

Then came Matthew.

His son had recently joined the school at primary two. They were new to the area. He'd been forced to downsize. The other parents didn't really take to him, they could sense that he wouldn't live in a place like this unless he had to, and that he probably thought he was better than the lot of them. So they grudged this shite. This show. Most of the parents were struggling to put enough money together to buy a school tie, and in comes this airy-fairy posh boy saying that they should all put on a show, a panto type of thing, featuring all the kids. Fuck that, they thought. Fuck that.

But Matthew persisted, putting not only his own reputation on the line, but that of his son, knowing full well that his son's popularity in school over the next five years would be in direct proportion to the success of this project. It was risky, but the payoff would be worth it. It would be good for the kids, good for the parents, good for the school. He knew it would cost money, there was no getting around it, they would have to build a stage right there in the sports hall, with the curtains and cables and all of that, and that cost money. But the effect that would have on the school, the joy, the memories, it would be worth every penny.

He stood there on the stage with a smile as the applause subsided and the audience looked on expectantly, awaiting what Matthew had to say next.