Sentence The Seventythird
Angus Og opened his eyes and realised that two people were seated at his bedside, watching him; that they were Police Scotland Officers there was no doubt in his mind – he had been expecting them since he recovered consciousness yesterday; his mind was still fuzzy, with jumbled thoughts tumbling around in a mixture of remembrance, imagination and dark fears; and he recognised them as being based at the Grassmarket and Cowgate Community Policing Hub – the married Sergeants – but now the husband, Gordon was speaking, his voice seeming distorted, probably be dint of the dunt Og had had on his head (or IN his head, he reminded himself) and had to concentrate to make sense of the words; so he had been promoted to Inspector – Og wondered if Bunty already knew that, and where was she, was she all right, it seemed as though everything had stopped when he came along the passage at the back of Deacon Brodie's, heard the whistling and then saw stars in an inky blackness, or was the whistling after the crack – that was the sound of his skull being broken by the stiletto heel, OMG he had been shown the photographs of his head with that evil-looking thing piercing into his brain, he shuddered, what was this guy saying, something about Robbie, his ears pricked up, he tried to ask 'where is Robbie,' but the only sound was a scratchy croak of “where Bobby” and the two officers exchanged glances and the wife, Golda, Goldy, yes that was it, Goldy Brevity, leaned forward and took his hand in hers, with a sad expression on her face, and the only word he caught was “dead,” oh bloody, bloody hell, where's Bunty now, her needed her to keep him safe, he tried to shake his head to clear the thoughts that were piling in in him, but a spasm of pain shot through his neck and he yelped - “whodunit” he managed, and the husband, who was he, oh yes, Gorden, something like that, said “we hoped you could tell us,” and Angus closed his eyes – what was the world coming to, he felt nausea sweeping over his body and was suddenly leaning over, being violently sick – he hadn't eaten anything so it must just be the sorb fluids they had given him to keep his body hydrated – and when the nurse, quickly called by the cops, had mopped him up and settled him back on the bed, he wondered if the mention of Robbie was just an attempt at disinformation, to unsettle him – well, if so it had worked, he felt quite wretched – normally a good humoured man – since he had been obliged to retire prematurely and hang up his Postie's bag – he now felt himself sinking into miserabilism, thoroughly, dejectedly, nihilistically, bereft; a blubbering, snivelling, Moaning Minnie – NO, he wouldn't let them do it to him, so he looked up, screwed a lopsided grin onto his face and said: “a funny thing happened to me on my way to the Gents!”
Angus Og opened his eyes and realised that two people were seated at his bedside, watching him; that they were Police Scotland Officers there was no doubt in his mind – he had been expecting them since he recovered consciousness yesterday; his mind was still fuzzy, with jumbled thoughts tumbling around in a mixture of remembrance, imagination and dark fears; and he recognised them as being based at the Grassmarket and Cowgate Community Policing Hub – the married Sergeants – but now the husband, Gordon was speaking, his voice seeming distorted, probably be dint of the dunt Og had had on his head (or IN his head, he reminded himself) and had to concentrate to make sense of the words; so he had been promoted to Inspector – Og wondered if Bunty already knew that, and where was she, was she all right, it seemed as though everything had stopped when he came along the passage at the back of Deacon Brodie's, heard the whistling and then saw stars in an inky blackness, or was the whistling after the crack – that was the sound of his skull being broken by the stiletto heel, OMG he had been shown the photographs of his head with that evil-looking thing piercing into his brain, he shuddered, what was this guy saying, something about Robbie, his ears pricked up, he tried to ask 'where is Robbie,' but the only sound was a scratchy croak of “where Bobby” and the two officers exchanged glances and the wife, Golda, Goldy, yes that was it, Goldy Brevity, leaned forward and took his hand in hers, with a sad expression on her face, and the only word he caught was “dead,” oh bloody, bloody hell, where's Bunty now, her needed her to keep him safe, he tried to shake his head to clear the thoughts that were piling in in him, but a spasm of pain shot through his neck and he yelped - “whodunit” he managed, and the husband, who was he, oh yes, Gorden, something like that, said “we hoped you could tell us,” and Angus closed his eyes – what was the world coming to, he felt nausea sweeping over his body and was suddenly leaning over, being violently sick – he hadn't eaten anything so it must just be the sorb fluids they had given him to keep his body hydrated – and when the nurse, quickly called by the cops, had mopped him up and settled him back on the bed, he wondered if the mention of Robbie was just an attempt at disinformation, to unsettle him – well, if so it had worked, he felt quite wretched – normally a good humoured man – since he had been obliged to retire prematurely and hang up his Postie's bag – he now felt himself sinking into miserabilism, thoroughly, dejectedly, nihilistically, bereft; a blubbering, snivelling, Moaning Minnie – NO, he wouldn't let them do it to him, so he looked up, screwed a lopsided grin onto his face and said: “a funny thing happened to me on my way to the Gents!”
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