F**k Yeah! by Al Calm (e novels to read online .txt) 📕

Gets me proper thinking, though. I reckon that the fucking politicians should put them out of their misery on the war on drugs. Lost it time ago, they know, everyone knows that. Cocaine went seriously middle-class and acceptable in 2005 and it’s the kind of chemical ketchup that everyone can get pretty easily with varying qualities of strength.

Saying it, ask for a kilo of Moroccan Hash and you just might wait an eternity these days! The pigs I know, and I don’t know many, but those fuckers know I'm off me nut and I haven't had to pay the fuckers off, they all do that joyless paranoid stare. But I know these pigs wish it was back to the chilled out days when it was just quality acid, proper banging pills - none of this quad dropping shit - truly wicked whizz and decent smoke, weed and hash not all this skag and bugle, designer legit shit no fucker knows what it’ll do to you, and that crazy superskunk. Triptonite, fucking trippy cheese, it can fuck you quicker than a horny porn star! Fucking everywhere for them, not like it going away!

I’m not there yet, in the total fuckhead stakes. And to be really chatting to pigs about it, it takes someone with balls of kryptonite and a lot of bugle and skag money to come out and make a pig an offer when they bust you. I’m still annoyed that the politicians are proper out of touch and haven't sorted out the gear thing to take it off the pigs shoulders. I’m starting to feel sorry for them. They could stop me, get all fascist. But they know I'll just clog up the system, I won't change. I can't help laughing at that too, though. I didn't think it was too original. I can't remember who gave me acid and GHB together, though. I'll get the fucker if I ever remember!

Yeah, I remember who it was. I’m sure it was Bungle Bob dressed as Optimus Prime. Rockwell’s Detroit drops, it goes off. What a fucked up motherfucker! Bungle, you loon! I think he was all fucked anyway, but I remember hearing his voice. I'm sure it was then. Maybe it's another time. I says to him, mate your bird's looking for you, she needs you to help out around the house. Bob just laughs. He does the Regular Show thing OOOOOHYEAAAAAAAAAHHH!

We laugh for time, Bungle then goes into his impression of Patrick Star out of Spongebob Squarepants. FINLAND! He says it like loads of times, we’re still laughing. Then he tries to sell me more random beans. Why not, can’t we go halves? He nods and gives the word, he’s got a massive bag. Wait a fucking minute, OH MY DAYS! He's turning into Roobard. What a funny fucker! He's off his nut.

OH MY GAWD! Some bad tings, crazy shit, as Bungle says, like a proper monged spazzed up rudeboy. Look at my hands, I’m turning into fucking Dangermouse! Not again! Fucking hell! I knew it'd end up messy! I’m chewing my tongue up like calamari. He's had another psycho-meltdown thing. Fuck, I can't think what to say. Best to have one of those things off your nut. I'll get Callum and go back and hoover around. I need sorting but Bungle's everywhere. Fuck, he must be on another messy one.

Bungle tells me he’s going to see Benny Benassi sometime. I wouldn’t mind seeing him too. I thought he’d be up for Sanchez or catching 16bit again. I need to see AMC again too, I was off me face the first time. Another time, he tells me. He gets his tickets so quick it’s hard to keep up with Bungle Bob! He always gets sorted.

I’m sick of changing shitty nappies, Bungle tells me.

Don’t fucking have kids then, I go. What else does he want me to fucking say?

He laughs. All cool for you, Hog, he goes. You just love them and leave them! Bungle had to get that one in, didn’t he?

I nod. Half the time, I can’t really remember! At least I’m being fucking honest!

We laugh like crazy fuckers, like the Weasels out of Roger Rabbit.

What are you like you, fuckhead? Bungle Bob shouts down me ear, hugging me and laughing.

We’re laughing for hours, I can’t stop fucking laughing!

Then I wake up. I must have blacked out. Fuck. I hate when that happens. Where the fuck am I? Bungle’s gone. It’s Tuesday, isn’t it? I’ll switch on Kool to sort me mind out. I’ll flip between it and Origin. What happened to the weekend? Fucking mentalist! Me nose caked in blood bogies and there’s dried saliva around me chops. I feel fucked. I must have dropped some ket by mistake. I decide to go around to Bungle Bob’s bird’s place and clean up a bit. I leave wherever Bungle left me and I get the bus to her place.

I turn up and it’s still a shithole. The door open, shit up the walls, broken toys everywhere. Old TVs stacked up, all busted, worth shit. I look around for a sponge, a bucket and a mop. I can’t find a bucket so use an old Tesco Value Ice Cream tub and I find a load of ripped up cloths. Then I find some really old vacuum cleaner that keeps falling apart if you move it too quick. Fuck it. Still get it done. Stick on the radio, Blacka's creepy-creepy blasting, easy as! I start to clean the place up for her. It’s all I can think of. Maybe I have a guilty conscience? One of her kids might be mine, fuck knows!

I feel like shit, but doing this little thing helps me. I wish I knew how to fix her door, but I’ll look around for some glue or tell her to phone up the association to send someone to sort her door our for fuck all. Either way, it’s one fucking love for me. And I don’t want to get a call from the karma police, I got more shit to do, more raves to go, all vibes for miles for me people!!!

I think I’m getting high again, I can’t be coming up again. We Are I.E keeps blasting through me head. I got to get some vibes on. I think I’m doing some good for once. I ain’t just a fuckhead. I’m a good one. Then I puke. I puke a lot. It’s all purple and green.

Hello? Puke Kid speaks to me

Shit puke, you talking to me? I got to clean you up.

I clean up me puke, wiping me mouth with me socks, but I can see that the puke talking to me. After all it is a piece of me, I guess. It’s me very own puke child. Mini Hog Puke Kid.

Whazzgwaanin’? Puke Kid goes to me.

I don’t know. I’m clearing you up. You can stay in this bag. Don’t leak out on me.

I know you think you know it all, but Hog, you’re really fucked.

Tell me about it, I’m talking to my own puke.

Hey, don’t crack wise with me, fucker!

I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I thought I was just coming down but this shit got me, I need more MD to take the edge off. That Mandy was sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!

Shut up you, fool. You need some environmental mission. You need some goals with your life. You need to get a really fucking decent job.

That’s funny, yeah, real funny. I’ll dream on with that one. Why should I even try?

Don’t you want to do anything, Sebastian?

Shit man, you really are me! You know my real name! No fucker called me Sebastian for time!

Of course I fucking know you, you fucked up fucker!

Fuck Puke Kid, you’re cool, props to you! Even if I’m tripping my fucking balls off, I love you man. I really fucking love you.

I know, but you’ll have to help me. I need to grow and spread. We can be one, right? You know the ways of the Puke Kid? The system can’t hold me.

That’s it, man, like a karma zen deal. Fuck the system. Love that System Check tune. It’s like the way of the warrior, Warriors, come out to plaaaay!

Puke Kid don’t like me. I think he knows I’m tripping out and he don’t like the fact that he might not be real. There’s nothing wrong with chatting to your puke, just like chatting to yourself in the mirror. When you’re reminding yourself to get bog-roll and milk. Dull shit like that. Yeah, fucking read how it all rolls.

Puke Kid wibble wobbles in the bag as I finish the hoovering. Thank fuck for off licence bags. Fucking SAS probably use them to carry there shit when crossing borders.

Oi, oi! Think you’re a fucking rudeboy? Think you’re someone big? It’ll get peak I tell y’mo’fucka!

I can’t be fucked with the gang shit, I know some people like it, though. I’ll score off anyone you know that. Thank fuck Goofer’s going to be leaving me alone! I keep blowing that fucker off but I do feel sorry for him. He’s a dumb cunt really.

What? What y’say? Puke Kid goes, all angry. He’s starting to remind me of Goofer. Then I get the fear of having kids again. What if they turn out proper spazzed like Goofer. Goofball Goofer Gaz a.k.a Goofball Garry. You’re a fucking dumb muppet, dude. A fucking tool. I can’t look out for fucker like him. Everyone just laughs at Goofer, he’s always getting kicked out of clubs and busted all the time but we all think it’s funny. I fucking love and hate Goofer but wish I could do some shit to get him with the vibes.

Goofer’s still young, he’s only nineteen or twenty- something. I’m really mate’s with his older bro Darryl, but he’s inside and won’t be coming out for a long time. South East Asia and a shitload of cocaine was never a wise business plan for him, no matter how invincible he felt. Anyway, Goofer’s got loads of raves to blast, shitloads of drugs to do and have a wicked time not giving a fuck. For me a decade or more has just flown by doing just that.

And here you are tripping and talking to your puke in a bag.

At least I’ve cleaned the place up a bit. Now I got to bin you.

No wait! Puke Kid screams at me.

I managed to put Puke Kid in the wheelie bin outside. Like some Puke Abortion. I’m crying as I do it. It’s like a fucking funeral, fucking chemicals and weird feelings all surging through me. Puke Kid keeps trying to talk to me, but I got to try coming down, this shit proper fucking me brain up. I go back inside, I think about listening to some tunes. I stick on the old skool mixes, I even stick on Shamen’s Boss Drum.

I then take a real splashy shit. And after cleaning the shit splashes from the toilet, off the seat and the walls, I think I can chill out. That’s when Bungle’s bird comes back. She looks at me real weird, like she’s tearful but happy. I’m chilling here, I fucking deserve it! What a fucking mission!