Fight Night by Julie Wright

It was after midnight and me and Pesky was creeping up behind this big old building, keeping right down low and tucked into the wall on account of the full moon. It was like that big searchlight on the helicopter the coppers chased us with when they caught us twocking cars. Fucking close shave that night. Behind us, Jase and Cappy was laughing and carrying on.

‘Shut the fuck up!’ Pesky hissed at them. Pesky was the boss, the leader of the gang. He taught us all what we knew. He showed us how to get into cars and how to get into houses. Cars, be careful and clever. Houses, be bold. Bust a window. Crowbar the door. Nobody takes any notice of one noise, a crash or a bang or glass breaking. Just the one and they think it was an accident or summat. It’s when you’re pratting about trying to be quiet that you make a racket and get caught. That’s what Pesky says.

‘And don’t try kicking the door in or opening the lock with a credit card,’ he telt us. ‘That only works on the telly.’

We got to the corner, and I looked at him and shrugged. ‘What now?’ it meant.

He grinned, tapped his watch then made that okay sign that the divers use. That meant be cool, not long to wait. Thursday was fight night; somebody was about to get a pasting. Jase and Cappy was right behind us now. Cappy took his baseball cap off and scratched his head. That was how he got his name, see, on account of the baseball cap. Course he can’t stop wearing it now can he? Can’t be called Cappy if you don’t wear a cap.

I heard voices and I saw Pesky tense. This was it, then. He stuck his beak round the corner, his arm out keeping us back. The building throbbed to a bass beat, it was a club of some sort, but not one I’d ever heard about. There was more talking and laughing then three big lasses come round the corner and Pesky sprang to life.

‘Fucking get them!’ he yelled, and he lamped the first lass, bust her nose all over her face. She screamed and her mates tried to run. They had no chance, not in them shoes, heels must have been six inches. Fucking porn shoes. You can’t run in porn shoes.

Now, I did what Pesky said, but I wasn’t happy about it. You see, one of the things he drummed into us was that you never hit a lass, no matter how much she winds you up. Walk away, that’s what he says. And now here we are belting fuck out of these three big lasses for no good reason at all that I could see. I tried to be gentle when I punched the one I was on.

‘Pesky, man! Fuck’s going on?’ Jase was as puzzled as me. Then Cappy walloped this big bitch and knocked her right off her feet. She landed on her arse, legs out like Bambi, dress round her waist. I just stared. I couldn’t fucking believe me eyes.

‘Now do you get it?’ Pesky yelled as we gawped. She only had her fucking cock taped to her leg. I mean he did. No wonder their hands was so fucking big. Pesky backhanded blood off his nose and grinned. ‘Tranny bashing!’ he roared, as he leapt on top of the one on the deck. ‘All the fun of hitting a woman with none of the fucking guilt!’

The lads gave out a battle cry and we laid into them proper now we knew we was hitting blokes. Fuckers cried like girls, mind. They was a right frigging state when we let them go, limped off down the street clutching their handbags and their porn shoes and their bust noses.

We was buzzing. We had cuts and bruises and that, but them big lasses was fucked. We’d have to leave it a couple of weeks, let things die down a bit, but we’d be having some more of that. Fucking brilliant!

One response to “Fight Night by Julie Wright

  1. A wild ride. Well Done. I’d love to see these guys run into Alex and his droogs at the Korova Milkbar!

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