Everything was quiet when I awoke at midday. The only person I found in the house was Sandy, sprawled across the sofa, mouth hanging wide open, with numerous flies and other winged insects feasting at their leisure on his copious drool. All attracted of course by his notorious halitosis, which hung heavy in the warm air. He was wearing only a pair of Crystal Palace shorts and his Dubstep 4ever tattoo was plain to see across his bare chest, as was the tattoo on the knuckles of his right hand, which read ACAS. It was meant to be ACAB but Jamal was cunted on absinthe when he did it for him and forgot, unwittingly and ironically turning Sandy’s hand from an instrument of violence into an advert for concilliation. The two lines cut into his right eyebrow glistened with sweat. He claims they signify the two men he’s killed, but Handy maintains it’s the number of times he’s had sex.
He was comatose, which meant I could relax because none of the others were to be seen. I found a note in the kitchen from Mrs Muck telling me her and Muckette had gone into town to find a pharmacy. Muckette’s mosquito bites were out of control and weeping and bleeding. Without some lotion for them we wouldn’t be able to put her out again to soak up the bites instead of our own poor delicate skin. That’s what children are for after all!