Albert needed to get shit in perspective so he stopped off at a nearby crack house. As he exhaled from a draw of his pipe he looked at all of the curled up bodies with cracked out faces lying on the vomit stained carpet. It occurred to him that the Irish tramp could be a weird manifestation of a guilt ridden lifestyle brought to life by consuming copious amounts of crack. He dismissed this thought however, for two reasons.
Firstly the fact that he was able to rationalise these thoughts in his head (whilst smoking crack) told him that he was still in control. Crack had never affected Albert like a normal person, consequently Albert was able to smoke crack like most people smoked weed. He used it to chill out and reflect upon the days events. No doubt this was due to his superhuman tramp capabilities. Some would say that crack robbed a person of their soul, but Albert lost his a long time ago.
Secondly guilt was a term that Albert had to look up in the dictionary from time to time in order to get a grasp on exactly what this emotion was meant to be. Albert was remorseless and therefore never regretted his actions unless they had unfavourable consequences for him.
It was a surprisingly cold day but there was a hint of optimism in the air inspired by the persistence of sunshine. It was just the sort of day that Albert loved not for the obvious reasons but for the fact that it should be a good days tramping. Wheel chair guy was one of Albert’s top earners and should do well on a day like this. Wheel chair guy was that tramp that you couldn’t help but look at (If you did try and ignore him there was a high probability that his wheelchair would fuck you over somehow) and looking pitiful was his ‘thing’.
It was breakfast time so Albert went to the Corner shop and bought two cans of special brew (one for lunch) and returned home. When he arrived Trevor was outside with Albert’s girlfriend both of them screaming ‘Alberrrrrt’ a great deal louder than necessary.
Albert gripped his girl’s entire arse in one hand (one of the many benefits of beating a skinny crack fiend) whilst looking directly at Trev. Albert then poured some of his special brew onto the girl’s forehead and proceeded to lick it off her face. Although Albert was a grimy guy, this behaviour was done purely to make Trev jealous as he knew that Trev had always liked this girl. In fact that was Albert’s sole motivation for turning her into a crack head and making her his bitch.
The three of them went into the block, climbed the pissy stairwell and entered Albert’s flat. The door was open as per usual, no one would dare thief from him, not only because he was top tramp in the bits, but the smell seeping out into the hallway was rancid.
Albert awaited wheel chair guy’s arrival.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Tramp Chronicles: Irish Tramp, what on earth?
Who was this old Irish tramp? Why did he keep calling Albert, Davie? Better still why did Albert have it? The last question was the most perplexing to Albert, although he didn’t like to blow his own trumpet he was a grime Lord and no one fucked with him and got away with it. Although this might seem like a minor annoyance to a normal person Albert had abducted people’s kids for less, he had a rep and this would simply not do.
As he sat down on the bench thinking about what had just happened he felt the urge to punch wheelchair guy in the face, he fulfilled this urge and knocked out another one of his front teeth. Wheel chair guy spat the blood out of his mouth, thankful that he had managed to stay in his chair this time, because trying to crawl back into your wheel chair with one arm and limited legs is a bitch. Albert seemed to be having another one of his turns so wheel chair guy and mad Scottish tramp fucked off.
Albert didn’t remember much of his meeting with that Irish tramp, but he felt different his superhuman tramp capabilities seemed to be enhanced. Also there was a yearning for something, something he could not quite put his special brew smelling finger on. He needed some answers so he set off to find this Irish tramp. Albert didn’t think that this would be a problem as this was his manor and he could find anyone that was out on road. At this time of the morning the streets were his, it was nice and quiet, the perfect conditions for disposing of an unsuspecting old tramp.
Baffled again. Albert try as he might could not locate this old tramp. He was just beginning to doubt himself when he heard that mocking old voice with an Irish accent saying ‘Davie’ directly behind him. Even Albert was in awe at the stench of this guy’s breath and for the first time in the longest while Albert experienced a shiver down his spine. No one crept up on Albert. But here was this old Irish Tramp standing down wind from him stinking of piss and smiling a toothless smile. Albert reacted from fear for the first time in his life and tried to bore the Irish tramp in his neck with his rusty fingernails. The tramp seemed to disappear but from nowhere he was behind him again. This time he was laughing Ah Ha HA Ha Ha Ha………. ‘You’ve got potential Davie there’s a war comin an you’ve got works to do!’ The Irish guy was gone and Albert looked at his can of special brew for answers; war? Potential? Works? Albert had never completed a days ‘work’ in his life.. The only thing that he knew for certain was that getting rid of this old Irish bastard would be a lot harder than anticipated.
As he sat down on the bench thinking about what had just happened he felt the urge to punch wheelchair guy in the face, he fulfilled this urge and knocked out another one of his front teeth. Wheel chair guy spat the blood out of his mouth, thankful that he had managed to stay in his chair this time, because trying to crawl back into your wheel chair with one arm and limited legs is a bitch. Albert seemed to be having another one of his turns so wheel chair guy and mad Scottish tramp fucked off.
Albert didn’t remember much of his meeting with that Irish tramp, but he felt different his superhuman tramp capabilities seemed to be enhanced. Also there was a yearning for something, something he could not quite put his special brew smelling finger on. He needed some answers so he set off to find this Irish tramp. Albert didn’t think that this would be a problem as this was his manor and he could find anyone that was out on road. At this time of the morning the streets were his, it was nice and quiet, the perfect conditions for disposing of an unsuspecting old tramp.
Baffled again. Albert try as he might could not locate this old tramp. He was just beginning to doubt himself when he heard that mocking old voice with an Irish accent saying ‘Davie’ directly behind him. Even Albert was in awe at the stench of this guy’s breath and for the first time in the longest while Albert experienced a shiver down his spine. No one crept up on Albert. But here was this old Irish Tramp standing down wind from him stinking of piss and smiling a toothless smile. Albert reacted from fear for the first time in his life and tried to bore the Irish tramp in his neck with his rusty fingernails. The tramp seemed to disappear but from nowhere he was behind him again. This time he was laughing Ah Ha HA Ha Ha Ha………. ‘You’ve got potential Davie there’s a war comin an you’ve got works to do!’ The Irish guy was gone and Albert looked at his can of special brew for answers; war? Potential? Works? Albert had never completed a days ‘work’ in his life.. The only thing that he knew for certain was that getting rid of this old Irish bastard would be a lot harder than anticipated.
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