Fright Club

It was the day after Halloween, and I was in the canteen tucking into my Shepard’s pie, sat by a table on my own. It sounds sad, but I genuinely don’t know why people squeeze onto a full table to eat, just to join in with conversations. They sit, with their elbows nearly touching each other, making their muscles spasm into cramps. Just so they get to chat. But me, I want some peace and space on my lunch break. You may argue that whilst working on a car park of a supermarket, all you get is peace and space. But with Steve following me around all morning, all I got was a two-hour lecture on ‘Why Brian Is a Dick’. He came up with the title, not me. Over the past few days he had stopped trying to convince me he was over Grace, and moved on to being openly angry at Brian. He was always angry at him, but that fact that he's now working in the shop next door made his anger bubble to the surface. 

‘Shepard’s pie, eh? I’ve gone for Cottage pie.’

Steve had invaded both my peace and my space again, coming up for his lunch too early. Now I was angry, but that didn’t stop me being a little enthused about the pies.

‘Is there a difference?’

‘Oh, I’ve never thought about that.’ He sat down.

Why would you? People normally have lives to be getting on with. Steve licked the gravy off his fingers and began his second lecture of the day.

‘I think Cottage Pie is made in a Cottage. Shepard’s Pie is made by a Shepard.’

He smiled widely, as if he’d just come up with the meaning of life.

‘What if a pie was made in a cottage, by a Shepard?’

I think that made his mind explode. But he just picked up his cutlery, shrugged and tucked into his pie. The days outside were beginning to get a little nippy, so Steve was wearing his annual black fingerless gloves, thick overcoat and bob hat, with ‘Megadeth’ emblazoned in red on the front of it.

‘What did you do for Halloween, then?’ He asked.

I didn’t want to chat. I didn’t want to answer questions. When I’m eating it leads to embarrassing silences of trying to finish my mouthful of food, waving my knife about and attempting to tell them to wait. The truth was I didn’t do much last night. I just did the usual; watched ‘Halloween’ (the best scary movie ever, in my opinion) and ate a big packet of kettle chips.

‘Nothing. You?’

‘I was invited to a gig. You know, ‘The Corspe Kings’? They were nearly signed once. They were on at the cellar bar in town. But I was too tired.’

Or his Mum made him stay in.

‘Apparently they did the full set covered in blood…awesome.’ He grinned.

‘Really…’

I wasn’t really listening. That probably explains why my ‘really’ wasn’t really said as a question. It was just the first word I could think of. I found out early on that Steve was the kind of talker who didn’t need nods of recognition or words of encouragement. As long as there was a human in earshot, he’ll talk. Bullshit, mostly.

‘We had a few trick or treat’ers on our road. Little tykes. But one of the bastards threw an egg at my Skoda. I was lived, obviously.’

‘Obviously.’

‘But by half nine we had ran out of sweets.’

He ate them all whilst watching Robot Wars, probably.

‘So I gave away those free CD’s you get with the newspaper.’

‘You didn’t? Did they take them?’

‘Oh yeah! Most of them came back for more! I had Chris De Burgh….’

Oh, right. That’s what 12 year olds like these days, is it? Forget your drumstick lollies and penny chews. The Best Of Chris De Burgh, they’re all raving about him in playgrounds all over England. Has he done anything since Lady In Red? 

‘Meat Loaf, he was a popular one. Rod Stewart. Even Marvin Gaye!’

‘Really?’

‘Oh, yeah. I got myself a little nickname by the end of the night.’

‘What’s that then?’

‘The Gaye Man!’ He smiled broadly.

I couldn’t help but smirk.

‘I heard them outside. “Let’s go the gaye man’s house again!” Who’d have thought Marvin Gaye was so popular!’

‘I know! Amazing.’

Steve’s new nickname made me smile for the rest of the day. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it first. A forty odd year old man living with his Mum, maybe the kids on his street weren’t far off. We finished our assorted pies and headed downstairs. In the foyer, Glen The Greeter had his microphone to his lips, omitting his warm Irish tones onto the ears of our Saturday shoppers.

‘We hope you enjoyed Halloween last night. And why not stock up on masks from next year? Half price, now in our foyer!’

Alex had just clocked on. And instead of being outside and clearing up, he was stood beside Glen in the foyer, bent over a trolley full of masks and rifling through them with his hands.

‘Having fun, Al?’ I asked his arse, the only part of him I could see.

Alex spun around and growled at us, holding out his palms like claws and shaking his head. This would have been frightening if his mask wasn’t upside down.

‘Scary.’ Steve said.

‘Wrong way, Alex.’ I said.

‘Oh, I thought it didn't feel right on my face.’ Alex peeled it off. ‘Good though, isn’t it?’

‘It’s just a bit of rubber. With black hair glued to it’ Steve said.

‘Bit like Sharon Osbourne.’ I smirked.

'Hey, Steve, that's a cool hat. Where'd you get it from?'

'The boys themselves...' Steve replied smugly

'Sorry?' Alex asked.

'Megadeth.' Pointing at his hat. 'They gave it to me, when they were over here in 82.'

Bullshit. Alex believed it though. The three of us walked outside into the fresh November day, with Alex still clutching the mask.

‘You’re supposed to pay for that, Alex.’ I said.

‘I did. I gave three quid to Glen.’

‘It’s not a market. You have to go to the checkouts. Don’t you know how a Supermarket works?’

‘Fine, bloody hell!’

Alex charged into the store, leaving Steve and I to clear up.

‘Megadeth. That takes me back.’

Brian had spotted Steve’s hat from where his was stood. He was in our trolley bay with a roll up cigarette in his hand.

‘Toured with them in 82.’ He said with a croak.

'Isn't that the year you saw them?' I asked Steve.

'Shut it, Dylan. Shouldn't you be on your side? Working?’ Steve asked him.

‘On my break, Stan.’

‘Steve.’ He corrected him.

‘Stevie!’

Brian aimed his thumbs at Steve, which made him wince. That’s right, being an ex-tramp, Brian's got used to the great outdoors. It’s a force of habit to stay outside.

‘How’s Grace?’ I asked, with one eye on Steve.

‘Fine. Fine.’ He flicked his ash to the floor.

‘You two living together now?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And how’s that going?’ Steve said bitterly.

‘Good. She has one weebabix. I have three.’

‘Sorry?’ I asked.

‘Weetabix. I always eat three. She only eats one. It means there’s never any lying about at the end of the packet. It's a nice even number.'

‘Right…’

‘Yeah. We’re meant to be.’ He winked.

Yeah, we all know it’s a huge grind when there’s an odd number of weetabix in the packet at the end of the week. I suppose God and the Devil could share a flat together and get on, as long as they eat the right amount cereal every morning. Mind you, it would make one hell of a TV show. Brian was about to enlighten us with more, when Alex walked into the back of the trolley bay behind him and shouted, complete with the Sharon Osbourne mask over his face. He growled at him and banged on the Perspex, making it shudder loudly. To say Brian was startled was an understatement. He tried to jump forwards, backwards and up at the same time, making his knees give way and his body reel to one side. He crashed to the floor with a shriek.

‘Alex!’ I shouted, rushing over to Brian.

‘What? It’s on the right way around now, isn’t it!’

‘Yeah, it looks great, Alex.’ Steve said.

‘Fuck the mask! Look what you’ve done!’

Brian was moaning in pain, lying flat on his back in the middle of the trolley bay. As I got to him, his leathery brown face turned white and the moans got louder.

‘I think it’s a heart attack.’ I said.

‘Kiss of life?’ Steve suggested, stood motionless.

‘Urgh! I’m not kissing him.’ Alex added.

‘The kiss of life isn’t just a kiss, you moron! Go and get help!’

‘He’ll be fine. He can look after himself, he’s done it for years!’ Steve said.

Alex disappeared in store whilst I tried to help Brian. I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew I had to make him as comfortable as possible.

‘Steve, give us your hat.’

‘What? No!’

‘Steve, come on! Give it!’

Steve threw his hat at me and I put it on the floor, making a pillow for Brian’s head.

‘I want that back after!’

‘After what?’ I shouted, holding Brian’s hand and trying to talk to him.

‘After…you know…’

Steve tilted his head to one side, and scrunched up his eyes and lips.

‘Steve! Stop it! Get over here, you know CPR!’

Steve gingerly walked over to Brian, before having a long look back up to the store, to check if Alex had found help. But no one was around.

‘Right, I don’t like you, but I’ll help you.’ Steve said to Brian, who was still quietly gasping for air, his motions becoming slower.

Brian juddered and spluttered after a few more seconds, waving his hands about and trying to sit up. When he did so, with me and Steve kneeling beside him, stunned in amazement and relief, he calmly picked up Steve’s Megadeth hat, wiped his face on it and threw in back down to the floor.

‘Thanks, lads. That’s the forth time that’s happened.’

'Are you OK?' I said. 'You well down pretty hard' 

'Yeah, yeah, fine.' He tried to pick himself up. 'Thanks to this guy right here.'  Patting Steve on the shoulder.

'Don't mention it.' Steve said with a wince.

'No, no. It was an honourable thing you did.' 

Brian coughed and spluttered a bit more.

'Stevie...thank you.'

'Don't call me Stevie. I have a new nickname now.'

'Oh yeah, what is it?'

'Call me The Gaye Man.' Steve said proudly.

Brian looked at me as I tried desperately not to smile. I don't know whether you've been in this situation before, but trying not to laugh at a man who's calling himself The Gaye Man, after he's just revived an ex-homeless person is a very hard thing to do.

'Oh, right...will do. Grace always suspected anyway...'

We watched him get to his feet and walk wearily back over to his side of the car park. I looked at Steve, his face moist and red, staring down at his soggy hat.

‘Sorry, mate. You did the right thing, though,’ I said.

‘Yeah…’

He held out his hat, inspected the bits of tobacco and saliva and frowned.

'I think I'll give this to Alex.' He said.

'Good idea.'