My neighbour got a Tesla.
Barely even worth the bother with so many makers doing electrics now...you agree, yeah? 'Specially cause how everyone's got their own opinions about them ones in about the last five years, eh? Seems only right douchenozzles buying them now.
If I'm being honest, I love the car and hate it at the same time. I'd never own one, me.
One reason is that Musk bloke, I suppose. Everyone's got opinions about him, eh? Kind of a major douche...and whatsit? 16 kid or summat? Not a one wants to be around em.
Other reason is 'cause Jim cross the way's got one. Only got two kids, him. They also stay with their mums...well away from him. They hate Jim. Similarity like that is enough reason for me to hate him too...but I have more on top of that.
Pompous prat, he is. Never drive anything Jim drives. Not me.
He's a real prick. A real smug butthole.
Parks it on the drive right in the front garden instead of his garage! Whole empty garage he's got over there...the fucking arsehole.
He even has one of those supercharger stations you see in the cities and car parks at the posh shops now. Hired a builder to come round and install it right out front of the house last week. Stewpid thing must have cost him as much as a holiday place out in the countryside. Right out front so we all have to look at it.
We're all beneath him then? Whole neighbourhood's a bunch of yorkies and he's the smear of shite inside. Like he's pressing our noses there shouting "look what you've made of my rug you cunting twat of a mutt!" innit?
How ostentatious can you be Jim? You fat bastard.
The car is incredible. I'll give the car credit because credit is certainly due...
...I still hate it...
...but only because Jim is a smug piece of absolute bloody shite.
“Hey Liam!”
he said on the day he bought it,
“What's your carbon footprint look like, then?”
He grinned like a madman.
Oi. What's this then?
I thinks to meself.
This smug turd cutter's really takin' the piss now, eh? Wants to have a row? Bout to say something right smart then? If he's looking for a go, he'll have it, and I'll knock his block right bloody off. Absolute Cockwomble...
Carbon footprint? Who in their right…
“Mine will be like, a negative two...mayhaps three, once I get those solar tiles installed, me.”
Course he says something so utterly stupid.
Negative two...mayhaps three?...yeah Jim...like the centimetres of your buried-penis as it turtles back into your fupa. That's not how carbon credits work.
Cor blimey! Bugger off, you! Absolute nonce!
“You should hear this baby not purr! ha!”
How long did it take you to come up with that one you smug fucker?
I didn't take a ride with him, though he offered:
“Want to see what it's like to take a ride in the only car that's in orbit?”
Fucking megalomaniac. Eat a fuckin’ turd right hot from your nan's arse ya twat.
“No thanks, man”
I say,
Why don't you take that stupid cow you've had round lately, then? Bet she'd like a ride, that one. Not me...No, what if one of the neighbours might see?
Think we're mates suddenly? Eww...
“...Not today. Running late to the office!”
I shouted back...actually off work that day I was. Headed to the Starbucks.
Absolutely bonkers for a frappuccino and cakepop. Or two. Alright three. Shut up. Just as bad as that Jim, you.
As though he knew my lie, he said,
“Well if you're headed by the Starbucks on your way, I hope you've got your collapsible straw. Just come in the post today my one.”
Fuckin’ collapsible what now? Flippin hell...He's takin' a bloody straw all about with em in es pocket? To the shops? To the pub? Oi. Fuck off.
Sure enough he fished the stupid thing right out his pocket.
I hope he breaks his teeth on it.
Fuck a bloody metal straw and fuck right cunts like Jim.
“I don't even use a straw now that they've got the new lids!”
I told him.
“Right then! That's Gooood!”
He says from cross the street. Has a microfibre cloth in his hand, wiping the same goddamn flawless spot he's on for the last twenty minutes.
“Better for the environment!”
Sweet mother of divine. He's still talking? Shut up, yeah? Fuck that guy. Fuck his stupid grin, fuck both em double chins he's got and triple fuck his brand new Tesla.
So we're clear yeah, I hate those lids and ALWAYS use a straw. When I'm done, I chuck the bastard right into the fuckin sea. Bugger turtles, yeah? Stupid endangered noses sniffing up shite pitched all about in the water? Turtles be damned. Right then ya bloody twats? Why ya smellin rubbish like plastic straws floatin about in the sea for? A species fuckin’ thick as Jim surviving this long?...Don't see how they done it...
...Hate him loads for more reasons I can list, but mostly it's the hypocrisy for me. All for show this, yeah? Jim used to drive a massive Range Rover. 15 miles a goddamn gallon for years and suddenly he's the Lorax? Speaking for the trees? Rubbish! Seen him dump cooking oil right down the storm drain after midnight more en once. Should see how much water he does for his garden. Whatsit there, bushes and lawn all AI, running a data centre out front, Jim? Suddenly, overnight, he's mister environment judging the neighbourhood from his throne? Oi, shove it right up your arse, your highness.
Pricks like Jim have a lot of lost time to make up for.
I'm a nice person, but there's a handful of things that will send me into a murderous rage…
Here's a list:
- Clothes on the floor two feet from the laundry basket....
- ...Bad pet owners...
- Billionaires! Specifically the ones with the rockets and that other one with the children's books who went on to become a walking human rights violation overnight. Fuckin’ rotten cunt, mind yourself and not everyone else, can't ya? What happened to carry on then, Jo?...
- ...Soggy chips!...
- ...Mouldy loaves and cheese that's gone off too!...
- ...“Borrowing” my stuff without asking!...
- ...Thursdays!...
- ...And Smug douchebags who think they're better than everyone else.
Now that list's by no means comprehensive, yeah. I don't like when strangers behind the wheel go about wavin at ya. Fuckin’, who are you then lad? Bugger off. Bunch of others too. Figured I'd keep to the more reasonable ones...you can see which criteria Jim fits, obviously. That's why I done what I done. He had it coming, he did.
Last night, dressed in all black, I grabbed a bag and a kitchen knife from the block and headed out the door. I slunk through the midnight shadows of my garden, then Jim's in the pale September night. Air was cool and damp. Crouching low to the ground, I approached the Tesla.
How about this, Jim, you braggadocious fuck? The first thing I did was unplug it ha!
Right then ya bloody knob...time to set to my real work eh?
Crept to the side of his house, just beneath the window of his office and reached into me kitbag. Pulled out a chopping board and 10 pounds of raw chicken, I did. Sliced it right there in the bloody moonlight of his garden. Then set to spreading the little chunkies all over the windscreen, roof and the bonnet and boot of his stupid bloody car.
After, what I done was pour the entirety of a new tin of Lyle’s Golden Syrup from the Tesco right onto every inch of that prick's patent douche-mobile. Electric Egg Sucking Braggawaggon for insufferable knobheads. Environmentally friendly Model Chode. Could keep em coming, the insults. Real good ones eh? It's one of my best traits, being clever. A gift, one might say. Anyway after I done all that to the stupid thing, snuck my arse right back home then.
Expected my video doorbell, bout the only posh thing you’ll catch me wastin’ a couple hundred pounds on, to capture the chaos of Jim's discovery. Nice mobile replay, that.
Mobile replay? No. No. Up early enough, I might could watch it happen real time
I really could do, couldn't I? Yeah? hmm...watch everything unfold...
A light brekkie and show!? That window there? Front row, that one. Yes. Yes I think I would enjoy that. I would indeed. But...no. Not light brekkie. Oh no, no. Light brekkie won't do. A proper Full English. Aye. That's the plan.
...Chair parked there...Full English...his bleedin' sobs and spot of extra carrying on about it on the side, haha.
Cry and cry when he sees it. Course he will. Absolute twat. Tears and tears, him. Me sat here every minute for the show. ‘Why?’ he says. ‘Not chunks of chicky breasty on my Tessy! Why oh why?’
I went to bed then. Set the alarm to just before sunrise so there'd be no chance I'd miss that pompous scat slurper as he had an absolute breakdown. I'd watch from the start of it to when he hit peak level unhinged...and me, feeling proper chuffed at the prospect, found sleep hard and quick.
When I woke, I made myself a cuppa, took it to the window and eagerly pulled back the curtains to stare at Jim's place.
Expecting to be satisfied, face stretched in wide amusement…in a grin...but to feel it twisting round with confusion instead was a bit of a shock.
He'd seen it. Must have. Surely done. But if he come out his door and seen what I saw now from the quiet of my kitchen…he ain't seen what things I crept out and done.
The shiny new electric car was in the same spot it was before, only now what was left was smashed. Smashed completely, utterly to bits.
Reminded me of an aluminium ball. Like it had been smooshed right up by a giant or sommat.
Tyres punctured. Every window smashed, laying in a million fragments sparkling like diamonds cast about like dewdrops on the drive and grass and out in the street...Was shocking! but the most shocking thing...this: all of the chicken...gone. Completely gone.
Seemed as though most of the syrup remained, though now it had commingled with a thick black ichor.
Shocked, I had to know what happened so I loaded up the footage in the doorbell app.
Shortly after I retreated, perhaps an hour later, the storm drain in front of his sprawling, pretentious mock-Tudor glistened for the briefest moment. Two pinpricks of reflected light. Could've been a trick of the lens. Could've been eyes catching moonlight.
Something coming from out of frame then began moving along the surface of the road. Something dark. Something wrong. A shadow that didn't belong. Weren't a soul in the street at such an hour and here moves a shadow cross the pavement in the dead of night with no-one round to cast it. Somehow it seemed to billow and swirl like a cloud of smoke, only it weren't. Weren't nothing like it. Never seen smoke lay flat, flush with the pavement. Never seen it headed someplace with a purpose, creeping 'long the ground like smoke can't do.
Moved like it were alive, it did...right to the sewer grate next to Jim's drive...Was it called to be there by sommat or other? Call me mad if you like. You wouldn't do if you'd seen what I seen.
Unnatural...unholy...hidden...Like there were sommat down the drain whispering out...
Oi, you there! Come ’ere, shadow. Right that's it. This way. Cover me.
Thing hiding in the dark down there...it wants...wants nobody seeing it come up and out from the drain. Shadow was some sort a trick. But the doorbell saw it. Recorded every bit.
Down there was a sort of pitch-dark sludge slowly rolling up from beneath the street, pressing like dough through the bars what covered the drain 'til a whole mound of it smooshed the whole way through. Was like sewage. A living sludgy mass of excrement coagulating there in the gutter. Its skin quivering even as it rose up in full. Stood about three feet tall, it did.
Then it split into three massive writhing slug creatures. Using their muscular forearms up front and a wriggling knot of wormy pseudopods from their arses, they slithered their way towards the car leaving snotty trails of glistening black grease in their wake. They ate the raw chicken and finding it gone too quickly, seemed to look about in distress...as though intent about finding more.
As there weren't more to be found, they began pounding their faces into the rear windscreen with such determined ferocity that the weight of the impact as the glass smashed to bits flattened every tyre. One by one.
Awoken, Jim came rushing outside with a tin pot lid for a shield in one hand, wielding a handgun in the other.
Where'd a cunt like that get a bloody handgun?
An amalgamate of confusion and horror merged in the look on his face. After only a moment's hesitation, he pulled the trigger on his gun. It did not fire. I can only assume because Jim is an idiot and it's likely he's so stupid he forgot to put the bloody safety off.
When they seen him in the yard, the slug-creatures descended upon him, drawn by the sound of his impotent clicks. They made quick dirty work as they set about to devour his flesh, peeling it away from his skeleton. Skull and bones left to glisten in the moonlight, covered in red so dark it was almost black. When they'd finished they dragged the bones to the storm drain and disappeared back where they'd come.
I made a phone call after watching this all unfold on the small screen in my hands.
“I'm a patient of Doctor Blackwood's...I need to make an appointment please.”
I decided I should probably take Doctor Blackwood's advice and start taking the tablets again. Was all of this real? It may well have been. The damage to Jim's car was real enough. Just before the police arrived, I touched some of the shattered glass that exploded out into the street. Cut my finger with sharp precision.
Dunno. Maybe I'm completely buggered. Gone right mad...but maybe I'm not.
Went to the shop before noon today. Bought 10 more pounds of chicken. This time, skipped the tin of Lyle's. Seems they don't care much for the taste.
I ever tell you ’bout that slag Irene two doors down? Listen now...hear that? What d’you mean, listen to what? Wanker! The Pomeranian's what. Yappin’ nonstop. Could hear it from the fucking moon, that.
See, I put chicken out, that night they came up and Jim, fuckin’ smug butthole, he is. Were. Was. Whatever. The bloke was ate. Ate right up. Maybe they knew I hated him and done it to say thanks. Maybe he just came out and made too much bloody noise. No way to say.
Only thing I know for sure is the chicken brings ’em up. And I’ve already put it all about outside Irene's.
And I hate that Pomeranian. So however it pans out today...noisy cunting dog’s proper fucked, innit?
