An Early Childhood Chapter 21 Part 6


Continued from Part 5 of Chapter 21.

            Fletch’s left fist connected with his opponent’s jaw. There was a loud snap as bone met bone. The third punch sent Shadraff to the dirt, dying a painful death as he drifted in and out of consciousness, bubbles of snot-blood pumping out of the nose hole, looking not unlike some celebrity, coke addled mess in the newspapers, and looking a bit like a broken lava lamp. The poor fecken bastard, God love him. But let’s not pity him.

            And so, my first encounter with Michael Shadraff – the dirty convict peckerhead, wherein he had crucerfied my own brother – had finally been avenged as he lay dead.

            Fletch fell back onto the dirt and lay there exhausted, in absolute thatthers so he was. Melanie hurried over to him.

            “Are you all right?” she asked.

            “I will be when you get off my leg,” he said.

            “Sorry,” she said. “Can I’ve a kiss?” she asked then.

            Her head moved towards his and she grabbed him and their lips pressed together and slowly he pulled back.

            Ah lovely.

            “Look,” Fletch told her then. “Melanie… I think you should know…”

            “What?” she asked.

            “This has nothing to do with you looking more and more like a chimpanzee every day,” he told her.

            “What is it, Fletch?” she asked.

            “You ought to know that – well, I thought you already knew, given that I spent so much time in the Brotherly Manor.”


            “Coz it’s a gay bar?”

            “It’s only gay-friendly, you eejit. There’s a difference!”

            “I know but ehhhhm. Look – again – the chimp thing has nothing to do with it…”


            “I don’t know how to say this but… Melanie…”


            “I play for the other team.” He winked at her.

            “Do you mean you’re… you’re British?” She looked at him, confused.

            “No. No. I go around… through the back garden. Instead of through the front door.” He winked at her again.

            “Everyone knows you like a bit of gardening, Fletch, with your prize winning azaleas.”

            “No, Melanie. No. I ehhh I putt from the rough.” He winked at her a third time.

            “Not everybody’s a golfer, Fletcher!” she agreed.

            “Exactly!” he said, winking again. “Thank you for understanding.”

Continued in Chapter 21 Part 7.