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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/800251
Rated: 18+ · Book · Other · #1967174
Dave the Devil needs a hand, he wants to bring back the dark ages.
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#800251 added December 15, 2013 at 8:04am
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Chapter 2
The whiskey coursed through his body. He'd not eaten all day so the liquid has a straight run into his blood stream.

“Fuck it” He said to himself. He grabbed his laptop and lifted the lid. No need to put the privacy on now; he typed in the web address with the speed that only intense repetition would allow and watched as a blond porn star appeared on the screen. He logged in, and the clock started ticking. A real time video of a woman laid on a grubby bed appeared in real-time video the expand button and the image filled the screen. Several suggestions had already been made and she was well button, way the being naked. Several sex toys were stood on a table next to the bed.

He began to type, ‘RAM THAT DILDO UP YOUR FUCKING CHAFF.’ The words sat in the box at the bottom of the screen; all he had to do was press enter, and she’d oblige, for a fee of course.

He hesitated, his eyes fixed on the girl who was slowly removing her thong, looking back into the camera with that ridiculous pouty look as if to suggest she actually enjoyed the act, instead of being forced into degrading herself by some east European gang.

Something stabbed at his heart, a strange emotion he’d not felt in a while. He slammed the lid and the image disappeared, along with his erection.

He put the laptop on the floor, stood up, grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. No need to say bye, there was no one there…

He pushed open the doors to the Horse and Hounds and went inside. The smoking ban had been in effect for a while now, but he still wasn’t used to the fresh smell that greeted him after years of the thick acrid smoke. Michael liked this pub because it was one of the few in the area that hadn’t been turned into a ‘Gastro Pub’ or been taken over by Weatherspoon’s. It was still a drinker’s pub which also meant its days were numbered.

A man sat at the bar on a tall stool. His feet rested on a rail about a foot off the floor as he shuffled uncomfortably on the hard wooden seat.

Two men played pool in a room just off the main bar area, and Michael could smell the portable gas fire which was badly in need of a service.

A fourth man stood behind the bar polishing a glass and took no notice of Michael as he walked into the gloom.

Michael sauntered across the empty bar; he glanced at the machine that lurked in the corner with its glorious flashing lights, which seemed to beckon him over to feed its eternal hunger for pound coins. He’d be happy to oblige, but not yet. He needed a pint first.

The man sat on the stool spoke, but didn’t turn round “Alright Michael?” Dave Said, Michael wondered what he did, he’d always be sat in his favorite spot, and Michael never saw him leave.

“Well, bit of a day really”

“Yeah, won the lottery did ya?”

“I wish, no; wife took the kids and left me”

“Ha, Ha, we wondered when you’d join the fuckin club… Nige, NIGE…”

A man looked up from the pool table “What?”

“Michael’s finely joined the club”

“There’s a surprise”

“What does he mean?”

“Oh come on, it’s been on the cards for ages, I’ve seen you on the machine in the corner. You're a slave to it, and in my experience that’s normally the tip of the ice berg, how'd she find out?"

“Find out what?” Dave looked him in the eye, “God knows, think I forgot the pay a bill, I wasn’t expecting it for a few days. That’s the advantage of being a teacher; I get home before her and go through the post. It doesn’t normally come till about twelve.”

“How much?”

“Three grand”

“Five then…”

“Shit, you ever thought about going into the fortune telling game?”

“You don’t spend as much time in a crap hole like this without seeing a few things, drunks always promise they’ll give up tomorrow, wife beaters always say it won’t happen again and gamblers never tell you how much they’ve lost, only how much they’ve won. You’re lucky if you only have one problem to deal with”

“Well two out of three aint bad,” said Michael as he pointed to the empty glass on the bar “Drink?”


The small stage had been set up with a mike and a selection of speakers. A lady walked from behind the bar and wandered across the empty room. She stood, squeezed into a black dress which showed every fold and roll of her ample frame.

She’s applied make up using the trowel and hope method, and her thinning hair looked thinner due to the unfortunate positioning of the blue light just behind her.

“Shit,” Michael said nodding towards the lady, “Just goes to show…you can’t polish a turd.”

Dave laughed “No, but you can cover it in glitter well enough…” they both sniggered as the lady picked up the microphone.

They were both stopped dead in their ridicule when she opened her mouth and started to sing. Out came the voice of an angle…

“Bloody hell, she can half sing though… what you going to do then?” said Dave having to raise his voice over the land lady’s rendition or something by Cilean Dion

“About what?”

“Oh, you know, your wife leaving”

“Oh, yeah…don’t know, have a drink, then probably have another one”

“She kicked you out?”

“No, stroke of luck really, she’s gone to her mothers; I suppose she can look after the kids when Lisa’s at work”

“Party round your house then…how’s the old wanking habit, going well?

“Bloody hell Dave, you in league with the devil or something, how you know all this stuff?”

“You under estimate the power of drink to loosen the tongue, you don’t remember do you?”

“Obviously not”

“You were going on about it last week; you’d had a skin full mind”


“Yeah, we all had an in depth view into the cereal masturbator. I mean don’t get me wrong, we all do it, but bloody hell mate; you must need salt tablets the amount you wank”

Nigel walked past on his way to the toilet, “Alright Mike, bloody hell you’ve been sat there for half an hour, bout time you had a wank aint it?”

“Very funny, you off for one…?”

“Na, saving mine up for a trip down Large Lills later”


“You know that massage parlor down Kings road, do extras don’t they”

“No idea…” He was about to say ‘happily married me’ when he realised he wasn’t any more.

“Can’t say that now can you Michael?”

“Fuck me Dave… “Michael said staring in disbelief. “That’s it, you are the devil” Dave smirked.

Michael picked up his glass and sank the remainder of his pint. “Right I’m off for a kebab;I'm bloody starving" He put on his best Australian accent... "Could eat the belly out of a low flying duck.” He grabbed his jacket and walked across the empty bar to a rendition of Jolene.

As he got to the door he looked back, Dave sat facing the bar as usual, Michael watched his head slowly turn through one hundred and eighty degrees, his body still facing the bar. Shocked at what he saw he looked over at Nigel who’d stopped playing pool mid stroke. The glittery shit stood frozen open mouthed in mid song, silent.

Michael looked back at Dave his face contorted beyond recognition, his eyes as black as the inside of a horses arse, his mouth dropped open to twice the size.

“I’m coming for you Michael…” He said in a voice that came from another world, one he thought he didn’t believe in.

He slammed his eyes shut, then opened them again. The pub was back to normal,

“JOLENE…JOLEEENNNNN…..please don’t take myyyy man”

“Shit, need something to eat” He said to himself.

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