“T'want you lad? Get in shower lad before I slug you.” said the PE teacher, booting him up the arse. He turned the kettle on and watching him shower, waiting for it to boil. He licked his pink lips hungrily, like a beast with a horn. He then clicked off the kettle and poured the steaming water over Billy's head.
“Wait til Jud ear bout this!” shouted Billy between sobs.
“He won't ear nowt when his down pit lad. Now stop crying and clear off!” shouted the PE teacher back. A freckled kid with his eyes far apart piped up.
“Shudda made a brew on his fod sir!”
“Shut your gob or you'll be next.” snarled the teacher, picking up the boys bag and hurling it across the room. The kid just stood there, dumbfounded, then starting to squeeze his limp wet cock for comfort.
Billy walked home in the rain and looked up at the sky. “Bleeding rain.” he muttered. He walked past a pile of greasy newspapers used to wrap fish, the stories of the escaped child murderer were plastered on the paper more than the fat was. An old woman's teeth fell out of her mouth and into her cup of tea, splashing her blue kagool. He stepped in a puddle even, perhaps on purpose. On returning home her family all sat around with their eyes glued to the television, eating big plates of bangers and mash with teaspoons.
“Ain't none left for you Billy” said Judd, his thousand yard stare was mesmerizing.
“Mam where's me snap! I ain't 'ad nowt t'eat all bleeding day!” cried Billy.
His Mam nearly dropped a glistening sausage.
“What did you just say lad? I'll clip you around ears with language like that!”
Jud looked over his plate of steaming taters. “Billy lad. Are you some kind of bird nonce? Saw you puttin' todger in an egg.” Everybody laughed and Jud kicked Billy up the arse. Billy stomped off into his room, his tummy rumbling. He checked his tiny pockets to see if he had any change and pulled out an half-penny, not enough for any toffees. "Bleeding hell." he said to himself, wishing he had a bird.
