WALK OF SHAME by 'Lightning' Pete Giffa

BOOK EXTRACT:

CHAPTER TWO: WALK OF SHAME

by 'Lightning' Pete Giffa

WALK OF SHAME

Me poem took shape in me bonce. I kept gabbin words then reading it back, improving it ‘till every line were cracking and I knew it were writ. I dropped me pen all dramatic and backed away linford. I’d never felt that good. ‘You can do it’ I went to meself. ‘You can writ things.’ Me pecs swelled.

Gabble bowled in the classroom.

‘Sit down, shut up and listen to me’ he went. ‘Right’ Gabble went to start but just then Stew Charlton come through the door half-wimpin, holding his snoz and cut Gabble off.

‘Charlton, you’re late’ Gabble went.

Stew took umbrage. Tell truth he had blood all down his shirt.

‘Yea, well, Paul Linton just punched me in the face.’

‘Paul Linton just punched you in the face?’ Gabble went.

Stew bonce-nodded.

‘Good. You’re a wanker. Now sit down and shut up.’

Stew done as instructed which give Gabble a window.

‘Today we’re doing sex education.’ Gabble picked up a rubber jonny off the desk, stretched it right out then pinged a direct hit on Stew’s snoz.

‘AAAAAAAH!’ Tolly jeered and everyone joined in a second later so Tolly knew they were with him.

‘If you have to have sex, use contraception. The last thing society needs is pilchard’s like you reproducing’ Gabble went. ‘You’ll be alright though, Charlton. Your face’ll be enough to put most women off.’

‘Ave you ‘ad sex, Sir?’ Tolly went.

‘I’ve had sex over a thousand times’ Gabble went and the whole lot gasped.

I pulled me poem out me pocket surreptitious and spread it on me desk.

‘A moody mist…’

Time melted. Reality dissolved. I dived into The Pool of Ever.

Reading me poem give me a tingle. I’d made something. I’d writ something only I could’ve writ. I stared out the window. Maybe I could learn more words and writ more things. An image flashed in me bonce. I seen this shelf in a bookshop filled with books and every spine held me God-given writ proud!

WHOOSH!

A large mitt swiped me poem and I were boshed out me daydream instant.

It were Gabble. He held me poem in his mitts.

I frit it bigtime and lunged for me paper but I weren’t linford enough.

Gabble sneered.

‘What’s this Giffa?’

‘It’s me poem’ I went.

‘A poem?’ Gabble spat. ‘Who do you think you are?’

The room vibrated with violent silence, mutual incomprehension, shame and rage.

I felt the whole class staring at me

Gabble waved me words above his bonce.

‘Giffa here’s got a poem. Who wants to hear it?’ he gabbed to the assembled.

No one answered. Most thought Gabble were a knob but it never stopped him. In his bonce he probably imagined everyone cheering him on.

When Gabble finished, a tidal crease erupted. I wanted to crawl under me desk.

‘Who wrote this tripe?’

The tsunami exploded inside. It were like I could peg out the room, or jump out the window, or start wimpin or punch Gabble in the mush all at once.

I stared evils.

‘I done.’

‘Which book did you copy this out of Giffa?’

‘I writ it meself.’

‘Yea? What’s it called then?’

Me bonce went blank and me gob clapped open. Gabble had me on the ropes doolally. I’d never give me poem a title yet.

Gabble’s top lip curled like a banana on a two-week sizzler in the sun.

‘Why don’t you call it ‘Shit? ‘Cos that’s what it is Giffa!’

‘It’s not shit.’

Gabble held me poem and ripped it down the middle. Then he ripped it again and again and let the pieces float like confetti toward the lush, I were vertical instant with both mitts balled into fists.

‘Fuck off!’

Gabble went bastard immediate.

‘COME ON THEN GIFFA, YOU WANT IT, LETS ‘AVE IT!’

Before I could get me dukes up, Gabble feinted a jab at me nose and I flinched a bit.

‘AAAAHHHHHHHH!’ me schoolmates jeered.

Gabble soaked in it. He stood tall with a look in his peepers like he’d scored The Wembley Winner.

‘Yeah – you might flinch Giffa.’

It were full-time.

‘LINE UP!’ Gabble bellowed.

The assembled mass shuffled into two lines forming a human corridor at the front of the class. Me chin dropped. I knew what were coming. Gabble done it regular.

His big mitts thumped me back as he shoved me into the corridor and I were made to do ‘the walk of shame.’ Me lip trembled as I looked from mush to mush. No one met me peepers in case anyone thought they weren’t Ard neither. I had to walk ‘the corridor’ seventeen times before Gabble let me stop.

© 2023 theglisteningtortoise.com