DRAST

Drast was humming a happy tune. The sunlight skipped through the kitchen window as he mixed a pitcher of lemonade.

He continued to hum as he took the tray outside to the garden peeking through the pergola at his waiting  wife. He loved her so much he could barely contain himself. He would ask her to renew her vows with him today.

"Would you like a sprig of mint on top darling?"

"Oh, Yes please!"

The moment he dropped in the sweet green leaves an explosion of sound commenced from next door drowning out all of their conversation.

"Oh no not again! Not now! Please not now! NOT FUCKING NOW!"

Drast screamed this last lament, a desperate angry plea across the thick hedge towards his neighbour Husk.

Husk was a joiner who just couldn't stop. He brought his work home and that meant lots and lots of noise. he cut stuff up, he sliced things in half, he sawed planks of wood and he trimmed lumber of every sort. he had clients from far and wide needing his skills. He couldn't keep up at the workshop so home it came. As long as was making money he wasn't bothered how much noise he made.

And Christ, he made noise. It was an ear-splitting shamble of revved screeches and metal howls. A never-ending, unceasing din that filled the air like a cancer of sound.

Drast was in the firing line for it all. It ruined his life. It polluted his ears. It blighted his existence. Husk's fucking plague of bastard noise.

Spoiling his wedding vows was the final straw. No more pleas, no more slanging matches through the privet, no more Mr. Nice Guy. Drast would confront Husk once and for all.

He stormed over to the house next door leaving his Wife welling up and her eyes filled with tears. She felt helpless, her husband's drowning all-consuming fury and the awful dreadful drone next door were almost too much for her to bear. She buried her face in her hands just as her husband screamed 'Husk!' in the neighbour's front garden.

Husk didn't hear. He was busy carving up some choice timber and powering through a particularly awkward knot. His Husqvarna shrieked its delight as it tore through the obstacle. He had no idea that Drast was approaching fast to his rear.

"The fuckin' twat, he gets to wears ear defenders while we have to listen to his shit!" thought Drast as his rage grew into a bomb. 

It exploded as he smashed into Husk knocking him headlong onto a huge mound of wood shavings. His chainsaw flew to the side growling like a dog.

"What the fuck! Drast you fuckin' idiot, you could have killed me!" yelled the felled Husk.

"Kill you! I don't want to kill you! I want you to suffer though like I have all these fuckin' years!"

Drast reached for the defenders and violently dragged them off Husk's head.

"I'll take these if you don't mind! I'm going to need 'em! ha ha ha ha!"

Something was snapping in Drast's mind, something flimsy. He hefted the Husqvarna and kicked Husk hard in the chest as he tried to stand.

"Lie down you noisy cunt. I have to concentrate! ha ha"

"Drast, what the fuck are going to dooooooooooooooooooooooooo, Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!"

Husk never got to finish his question. Drast motored the chainsaw to a terrible squeal and brought it's teeth down on Husk's ankle. First one and then the other. It toothed through the soft flesh and hard bone with ease and Drast was so mightily impressed.

"No wonder you like this shit Husk. It's really great fun!"

His neighbour lay on the woodpile screaming for his life, the pain of his severed feet twisting his words into nonsensical gurneys.

"Ugh, ugh, ogh, arrrrgh!"

"What's that? Ready for more Husk?" asked the now crazed Drast swinging the roaring machine over the man's arms.

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

The Chainsaw had no difficulty slicing through Husk's wrists. First one, then the other. He looked incredulously as his blood spurted out of his wet stumps and sprayed his face like red warm milk.

"Fantastic! Love it!" yelled Drast, "I think that'll do don't you Husk? Let's face it, you ain't cutting up shit from now on are ya! It'll be as peaceful as the grave round here! ha ha"

He dropped the Husqvarna in the pooling scarlet and picked up Husk's limbs. Struggling to carry them all, he dropped the feet and boots.

"Husk, it's been a pleasure!"

Drast walked back to his garden, where his Wife was waiting, her eyes staring in disbelief at her husband, who was drenched in blood and holding two severed hands.

"Darling! Good news! Husk's agreed to stop making any more noise! It's going to be sweetness and light from now on for us! And look, I've got the perfect wedding ring cushions for our vows!"

Drast got down on one knee in front of his Wife and held out Husk's two palms, each one nestling a neat gold band sat a little pool of blood.

As his Wife fainted Drast's high-pitched laughter could be heard across the street and he just didn't let up. It went on and on through the day and on into the night.

His neighbour on the other side came out and shouted.

"Pipe down you noisy bastard Drast!"

THE JAVELIN

Cedric hated waking up. He hated the how the cocky sun elbowed the curtains. He hated the stink of his own pissy pit.

But most of all he hated the thought of seeing his mum's bastard boyfriend in the bathroom when he went for a shit.

Fuck! He was stood there pissing. His huge bare hairy shoulders nearly blocked out all the daylight from the window. He pissed like a horse and stunk. He looked like a fuckin' wild boar.

"Get to school you fat fucker!" he shouted before kicking Cedric up the arse. He'd have to crap at school, which he hated doing.

"You best nick us some fuckin bog roll or summat from that shite school or else you're fuckin done for. You listenin' you chubby fuck!"

He booted Cedric down the top three stairs before the boy stabalised and trudged the rest of the steps. He slowly squeezed his torn shoes on and headed out of the back door. No breakfast. No nothin'. At least he'd eat at school. Free school meals. But he would have to suffer first. Like every day.

Cedric dragged his feet all the way. He stared into the penny sweet shop window at all the glass jars of poor bens and fruit salads. He didn't even have a fuckin single penny to get one sweet he thought and sighed. 

As he turned the corner onto Pedders he bumped heavily into a gang of older lads coming the other way heading for the shop.

"Watch were yer goin' you fat bastard!"

"Er, sorry!"

"You fuckin' what? You will be fuckin' sorry!" said the front boy.

"Empty yer pockets you fat cunt!" commanded another.

"I've not got any money. Look!"

His pockets hung loose and empty. Fluff and grime fluttered to the pavement.

"You fuckin' pauper!"

"I wanted to buy some sweets"

"You what! You want summat sweet? I'll give you summat fuckin' sweet! Hold him lads!"

Cedric closed his eyes as he was held tight. He knew what was coming. It had happened before.

The leader of the gang made a loud hawking sound and gathered a throat full of thick phlegm. He grabbed Cedric's face and pinned his mouth wide open. He spat his load straight into it. Cedric's eyes shot open wide.

The gang strolled off laughing loudly and Cedric stood there crying. He gipped and spat out what he could of the boy's grolly but some had already slid down his throat.

He swallowed and grimaced at the thought of what he'd just eaten.

"Ugh!"

Cedric felt like he was the shit he wanted to do. There was no difference. He was a nothing. Someone to spit into. He sobbed uncontrollably and carried on shuffling slowly to school still sobbing and knew he was going to get serious grief at the gates for being late. There was no point telling the teachers what had happened. They wouldn't believe him anyway.

"Cedric, you're late! Again! What is it this time! You fell down a man hole! You wouldn't fit!" roared Miss. Standing.

"No Miss. No reason Miss. Sorry Miss"

"Sorry! You will be sorry! You've missed the Head's Class of 1972 assembly and that's just unforgivable! Follow me!"

She lead Cedric into her office, a drab hole crammed with who gives a fuck. Removing a cane from her stand she turned to face him.

"Hold out your hand!"

Cedric obeyed and held out his shaking mitt. The first strike was always the worst. After that they just seemed to deepen the same welt on his palm, a palm used to being struck, bent, twisted, burnt and slapped.

After six whooshes of the cane Miss. Standing stopped. She flicked the blood off and placed it neatly back into its stand.

"Never be late again Cedric. Never!" she advised.

"No Miss"

"Now get to class you good for nothing child!"

Cedric shambled out of her room holding his bleeding hand and made his way to the changing rooms for PE.

"Where have you been Fatty?" boomed Mr. Smith the Sports teacher.

"Nowhere Sir"

"Nowhere! Nowhere! I'll give you nowhere! Now get in there and get changed quickly mind! You're holding everyone up!"

Cedric undressed in front of all the other boys who were already in their kit. He could feel their eyes insulting him. When he pulled off his string vest their mouths started.

"Ha ha ha, look at you Cedric you fuckin' lard arse! You look like a fuckin' pig. Your Mum been fuckin' a pig Cedric!" quipped the class hard-case Bovver.

"No but she's been fuckin' everyone else!" gurned his mate Knowles.

At this the whole room erupted into laughter and Cedric stared at them, their huge mouths quivering with joy, open wide like snares ready to trap him. Mr. Smith laughed too.

Cedric hadn't got any kit so he had to wear what was available. An old rugby 1971 shirt and some girls' gymslips.

The class roared when he was done and ran out of the room howling like monkeys. Cedric looked down at himself and a tear formed in his eye. His mouth still felt funny and his hand throbbed like a bastard.

The PE class was outside. It was athletics today. In the cocky sunshine. The keenies crowded round Mr. Smith, who gave them little jobs to do. Get the tape measure, draw a chalk line on the freshly cut grass, place a javelin every 8 feet along the line. Kiss my arse. They scurried off happy.

Cedric arrived last and stood next to Mr. Smith.

"My God! You look a complete prat Fatso! Serves you right for not bringing kit! Again! Your Mum should stop shagging and get washing boy!"

"Yes Sir"

"Don't yes Sir me!" 

He clipped Cedric hard round the ear.

"You're well on your way to failing PE this year and I bet its the same across the school! You're a friggin' disgrace! Hundreds of children would give their right hand for your place in this school! Are you even listening you cockroach?"

"Yes Sir"

"Go and stand in the middle of that chalk line and DON'T touch anything until I say so!"

The teacher batted the top of the boy's head.

Cedric dragged his feet to the centre and hung his head down waiting for the next instruction. At either side of him were Bovver and Knowles worst luck.

"If you throw that fuckin' spear further than me you chubby twat I'll shove it straight up yer fat arse-'ole!"

"Yeah, like yer slut Mum. She'll get it up the arse too. We'll take turns! ha ha"

Bovver and Knowles laughed in Cedric's face like two mad hyenas rubbing their balls.

Mr. Smith stepped forward smiling too. He looked like a Norse god on that Wednesday.

"Right boys and girls! Listen up! Today we're practicing throwing a javelin so get these rules straight in your thick heads!"

"One. Do not pick your javelin up until I say so!"

"Two. Do not throw your javelin until I say so!"

"Three. Do not go and get your javelin back until I say so!"

"Have you got it!"

"Yes Sir!" came a rough chorus.

"Fatty! Have you got it?"

"Yes"

"Yes what!"

"Yes Sir!"

"Fine! Now watch how I throw my javelin in the proper fashion Fatty. Get those sausage legs of yours moving for once!"

Mr. Smith took his long pointed pole and smiled. Then he ran, stretched and let fly. His muscles flexed; biceps, calves. He looked glorious. Like a god-damn Centurion.

It was a decent launch meant to impress and his javelin landed way down the field.

"Fuck me!" Bovver whispered to Knowles.

"Did you see that Fatty? That's why I'm a teacher and you're just a sad sack o' lard!"

The teacher took the tape measure and began to walk to where his javelin had landed.

"Fatso! You're up next but wait till I've measured and got out of the way!"

Cedric either hadn't heard him or wasn't listening. He hefted the metal pole and stared at it stretching far out at each side of his hand. He was transfixed and began to step back a good ten strides.

"What the fuck are you doin' you fuckin' retard!" shouted Bovver.

Cedric ignored him and began to run fast towards the chalk line.

"He's goin' to chuck it!" warned Knowles.

Cedric halted his run abruptly and launched with all his might with a colossal grunt.

The steel javelin hurtled through the air with beautiful grace, spinning as it split the sky in a gorgeous arc towards the far end of the field.

No-one breathed as the high curve peaked below the clouds; a momentary glinting fulcrum of light and steel. Then, as if touched by a higher power, the sparkling tip nosed earthwards to descend at what seemed like an impossible distance away. 

It entered Mr. Smith's mouth like a spear and re-emerged from his back just above the waist.

The javelin drove into the soft ground, blood bubbling down the glistering shaft. The teacher was completely impaled.

For a brief moment Mr. Smith stared at Cedric before his whole body slumped onto the poise of the steel. He hung there like a spit roast. Crucified.

"Oh my fuckin' God!" screamed Bovver.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ!" screamed Knowles.

In fact the whole class was screaming and some children were throwing up and crying uncontrollably.

Cedric turned away from the group and strolled to the toilet block. He had a huge painful shit and afterwards stuffed a full toilet roll into his gymslip.

He slowly made his way home in the blood-red sunlight.