When Mr. Dog Bites by Brian Conaghan Read Free Book Online

.Maybe you’re a bit retarded. But not mad retarded, just a wee bit, and sometimes you have a wee stutter, but only when you’re sad inside.”
    “You’re some best fu-fu-fucking bud, you are.”
    “You asked.” This was just one example of people being weird but not wonderful.
    “I know, but it was a historical question,” Amir said.
    Then he lost me. We kicked stones around for a while in silence, which was Daddy Cool, because the one thing that’s different between best buds and stupid acquaintances is that it’s fine and dandy to boot stones around in silence with your best bud, but with acquaintances you have to think of rubbish things to say all the time in case they think you’re dead boring, or a mongo. My new shoes were all scuffed and scuzzy as well. I didn’t care, though, because I was happy as a pig in piss that two best buds were kicking some stones around in silence. That’s what life’s all about.
    Silence.
    Kicking.
    Silence.
    Kicking.
    More silence.
    More kicking.
    Even more silence.
    Then some more kicking.
    I wanted to hug Amir—not in a sword-fencing-our-willies huggy way, but just, well, just because.
    The silence went on for yonks and yonks, making me a bit uncomfortable. Occasionally I glanced at Amir, but his eyes were always on the stones, doing his mad-staring thing. When we had booted all the stones away we made noises with our mouths, like puffing out air and tick-tock ing with our tongues. Then I had enough of Amir being my mad weirdo pal.
    “Do you want to hear about my plan?”
    “What plan?”
    “I made a plan. A list of stuff I want to do before . . . you know . . . before.”
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah . . . before you . . . eh . . . before you . . . eh . . . yeah, what’s the plan to do stuf f ?”
    “Do you want to hear it?”
    “Defo. What kind of stuf f ?”
    “Mad stuff. Shit stuff. Mad shit stuff.”
    “Like what?”
    “Well, think of the maddest shit that I could do before . . . you-know-what happens.”
    Amir went into Thinking Incredibly Hard Mode. His eyes got mega wide when he was in Thinking Incredibly Hard Mode.
    “Got it!”
    “What?”
    “You could do a sk-sk-skydive from, like, the highest height you could ever imagine.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes, like, from miles and miles way up there.”
    We both looked up to the gray clouds.
    “That is high.”
    “That would be pure animal.”
    “You think?”
    “It would be as mad as anything.”
    “Really?”
    “Mad as, man.”
    I looked at him and shook my head, because I was the brains of this operation.
    “Don’t be a twit-twat, Amir.”
    “What?”
    “Well, first of all, how the hell am I going to get up there?”
    “In a plane.”
    “I don’t have a plane.”
    “A helicopter, then.”
    “Rubbish. How else?”
    “I du-du-dunno.”
    “Exactly. It’s a crap idea.”
    “Well, you tell me a better one, then.”
    “I will, and it’s a stonker.”
    “So what is it?”
    “I am going to get it on with Michelle Malloy.”
    “Michelle Malloy?”
    “Michelle Malloy.”
    “Get off with her?”
    “ Get it on with her.”
    “Michelle Malloy?”
    “Are you deaf, Amir?”
    “So you’re telling me that you’re going to get off with Michelle Malloy?”
    “No, I’m not going to GET OFF with Michelle Malloy, I’m going to GET IT ON with her.”
    “What’s the difference?” Amir asked.
    So I did that dirty thing of placing my right index finger through a tiny hole I’d made between the index finger and thumb of my left hand. I put the index finger in and out eight times. Amir’s eyes got really wide again.
    “NO WAY.”
    “Way.”
    Amir looked around to see if anyone was listening to us. “You mean you’re going to sh-sh-shag Michelle Malloy?” Amir whispered the word “ shag .” Mom did the same when she didn’t want me to hear the word she was saying. The funny thing was, the word sounded louder when she whispered it. Sometimes she even spelled out words because she thought I