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Part 12: It's harder so get your arse OVER here by Sera Paul scuffed into the kitchen through the back door. His mother was standing at the sink, scrubbing potatoes. "Paul Anthony McDermott. Where have you been? It�s almost dark." Paul sighed, dropped his school bag on the floor and took a seat at the kitchen table. "Detention," he said miserably. "Detention? But I thought that was only for last week," Mrs McDermott said. "It was. Today�s detention was for an entirely different reason. It was all Tim�s fault-" Mrs McDermott put her hand up. "You know, I don�t want to hear about it. I feel a lot better not knowing what you boys get up to. Now, go and put your bag in your room and get washed up before dinner." "Yes Ma," Paul said and stood tiredly, dragging his bag up over his shoulder. "Oh, and while your up there Love, do us a favour and set the camp bed up in Sharon�s room. She�s bringing a friend over to stay after girl guides." "Oh yeah? Who?" asked Paul mildly interested. He liked it when Sharon brought girlfriends over to stay the night. It gave him a chance to work his charm. His mother looked thoughtful, poised in mid potato peeling. "I can�t quite recall her name but you know her. Her family�s new in town. We had them over for dinner the other week remember. Now what was their name? Karmer�Harmon-" "Harmer?" Paul asked, already dreading the answer. "Yes, Harmer. Lovely people they were. You and�Wendy, that�s her name, seemed to get on well together didn�t you? Paul? Paul?" But Paul was already gone and pelting up the stairs to his room. His bag dropped with a �thud� before running around, pulling at his hair, having a panic attack. Wendy Harmer was coming to stay the night. What was he going to do? What he needed was back up. There was no way he was going to let that bitch anywhere near his pubes. They were growing back nicely now and they didn�t need that kind of shock treatment again any time soon. He needed protection. Someone to guard his back while she was here. Slamming his door shut, he ran to his window and flung open his curtains, grabbing the torch off his bedside table. Rich didn�t live all that far away from him, in fact, they were able to signal to each other from their bedroom windows with torches when it was dark enough. He knew Richard would be in his room because it was 6:30 and at 6:30 every weekday, Richard sat in his room and read MAD magazine. Richard�s life was really one big schedule so it was easy to keep track of him. Paul flashed the torch randomly a few times to get Rich�s attention. Rich flashed his torch back. They had devised their own alphabet with the torches, sort of like morse code but not because that was to complicated for Richard to handle. "What�s wrong?" signalled Richard. "Get over here quick." "Why?" "It�s Harmer." "What?" "It�s Harmer. She�s coming." "Go away Paul. I don�t want to know. "I�m serious, get your arse over here." "No." "Rich, I need you over here. It�s Harmer for God�s sake." "Do your own dirty work." Richard�s curtains shut. "Fuck!" said Paul, closing his curtains and slamming the torch down. What the hell was Richard�s problem? He�d have to worry about that later. He rifled through his draw and pulled out a two way radio. "Fergo, this is Dermo. Come in Fergo. Repeat, come in Fergo over. "Paul? That you?" "Yes Fergo, it�s Dermo over." "Yeah, well I guessed it would be you seeing as you�re the only one that can contact me on this thing. What do ya want?" "Dammit Tim. You�re not doing it right. You�re supposed to say �over� when you�ve finished what you�re saying." "You didn�t just then." "Well I wasn�t finished�over." "Get to the point Paul. You�re making me frown and it�s not good for my complexion." "�" "Paul?" "�" "Fine! Get to the point Dermo OVER!!!" "Jesus Christ Tim. No need to yell. Anyway. I need you to come over here, there�s a situation. A code red over." "What�s a code red? Over." "I don�t know, it just sounds good over." "GET TO THE POINT!!!!" "You didn�t say over, over." "OVER OVER OVER FUCKING OVER!!!!" "Ok, ok. Sheesh. Sharon�s having a friend over-" "She�s having a friend? Over." "You didn�t let me finish, over." "But you said over, over." "Fuck the overs. Harmer�s coming over�I mean to stay the night." "Fuck!" "Yeah, Fuck." "I�ll be over-" "Was that an over over or an over over?�over." "I�m coming. I�ll be round in 2. Goodbye." "Ta mate, over." "SHUTUP! Over." Paul turned the radio off and put it back in the draw. 2 minutes later there was noise from down stairs. "Timmy Ferguson, what are you doing here?" "Sorry Mrs Mac. Can�t talk, Paul needs me." "That�ll be the day. Are you staying for dinner? We�re having shepherds pie." "Shit yeah." "Timmy Ferguson, watch your mouth." "Sorry Mrs Mac." There was thumping up the stairs and then Tim burst into Paul�s room. "Where is she? I�ll protect ya little buddy. Just let me at her." "She�s not here yet fucknut. There�s another problem though." "Well what it is it?" "It�s Rich, he won�t come. I tried signalling him but he told me to do my own dirty work." Tim frowned. "Look, I�m frowning again. You�re bad for my good looks Paul. Now, pass us the phone. There�s obviously been a misunderstanding. Rich would normally jump at the chance for some action. His parents are so tight poor fella. He needs a little excitement." Tim dialled Richard�s number. "Rich? It�s Tim mate. Why wouldn�t you come over when Paul signalled? This is a fucking emergency mate. We need you�yeah, uh hu�what?" Tim looked at Paul and then cracked up laughing. "HarMer mate. Yeah. Sharon�s invited the bitch to stay the night and little Pauly here needs our help. You will? Good stuff. See you in 5." Tim hung up the phone and collapsed in a fit of giggles on Paul�s bed. "Well? Why wouldn�t he come before?" Paul asked sitting next to Tim on the bed. Tim sighed, controlling his laughter. "He got his alphabet mixed up." "Bloody dickhead," Paul laughed. "So what did he think I said?" " �It�s harder. It�s harder, she�s coming. I�m serious, get your arse over here. Rich, I need you over here. It�s harder for God�s sake.� " |
