Friday, 5 March 2010

The Sad Tale of Stevie and Niggerlilly (excerpt from opening chapter)

This is the sad tale of a transvestite named Stevie, her dog named Niggerlilly and a violent, narcissistic sadist named Murchie. The tale is set in the village of Mire, a small settlement on the outskirts of a large Scottish city.

The vodka had to be acquired. That was a fucking absolute necessity you know what I mean?

Stevie led her bitch down the pristine winter pavement.
“Niggerlilly! Here gurl! Come here!” she called out dramatically.
She tottered precariously on her high heels. The bitch swished its tail and sniffed at some detritus on the street.
“Come here ya wee slut!” screamed Stevie. The bitch gazed over its shoulder at her imploringly. Stevie tottered towards it, her heels clicking on the glittering November pavement.
She tottered round the corner under an archway.
“Careful ya daft tart!” admonished Old Man Buggergrips. Stevie flinched. She felt saddened. Old Man Buggergrips was one of her neighbours and tended to have a genial disposition towards her. Except for now when they were in a public arena and he was compelled to display the general loathing and disdain the community of Mire harboured for Stevie.
She couldn’t really blame Old Man Buggergrips for his behaviour, if he was seen to sympathise with her he may end up becoming mired down with her. And that would be senseless and unnecessary.
Stevie scuttled onwards, urgently summoning the bitch with a quiet voice. She leashed the bitch to a railing and entered the small supermarket.
Prospective Friday night pissheads milled around, acquiring crates of Stella Artois or Tennents Lager. The whole place seethed with immense brutality and manic despair. Feral locals muttered caustic comments under they breath. Check the state of it. Many referred to Stevie as an it. Legally she was still a man. She had been banned from a nearby shopping centre for her insistence upon using the female toilet facilities. But she was not so well known at the vast shopping complex. The sight of her unshaved legs and thick layer of facial stubble had proved deeply unsettling for the gentle old ladies attending the toilet at that moment.

Stevie moved towards the liquor aisle amidst hoots of derisive laughter. She absorbed it readily, it would be stored away and then expunged later by administering copious quantities of vodka.
Stevie itched her phallus. Perhaps she would masturbate tonight.
She carried her intended purchases, a bottle of Russian Standard and two bottles of ginger ale, to the checkout. She was refused sale. On the grounds of intoxication.
This was fucking a disaster man naw it wisnae she’d head round to Drinkers’ to pick something up. Drinkers’ Paradise was one of the few stores on the main street of Mire. Stevie untied Niggerlilly from the post. The bitch swished its tail eagerly, its eyes glimmering with enthusiasm.
Stevie was refused sale at Drinkers’ Paradise as well. The only other alternative, the final resort begun to form in the back of her mind but she was still reluctant to acknowledge it.
She began to walk and she knew where she was walking but she didn’t want to think about it. She wouldn’t confront it until she had to, when she arrived at Murchie’s house.
The name sent a shiver of repulsion down her psyche.
It was very dark now. The swollen sky seemed to convey all the seething desperation, drastic sadness, black festering turmoil that she felt. Niggerlilly plodded alongside her sadly. An ominous wind had begun to pick up.
A passing youth bounced a basketball off Stevie’s face. She felt her eyes mist over and her nose and lips felt numb. The youth’s face seethed with feral cruelty and it snarled. Niggerlilly whimpered and mewled softly as Stevie clutched her face. The youth danced off into the fantastically evil night.

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