accident (standard:other, 1207 words)
Author: Oli	Added: Feb 17 2001	Views/Reads: 3793/2199	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
episode

accident 

Walking down the road I’m blowing snot out of my nose, pressing down on
one nostril and snorting hard, hoping the mucus will detach its self 
completely and not come swinging back in my direction. 

Crossing over the lights are on red and I am hurrying, eyes that are
slits carrying right through a blur of water that’s coming in 
horizontal and fine and it hits me like static. There’s my animal, 
glancing over both shoulders, (that late when I hurry), concerned for 
my welfare and that’s comforting – but still there am I, secretly 
wishing this giant fucking juggernaut will come speeding on through 
this rain, throwing up the grit, and just take me out. 

Grit would be the last thing I’d feel, lying there.  I’d be close to the
earth and every bit of grit would just be a tiny pressure under me – 
just like it used to be in the cold on the pitch; that exhilarating 
recklessness and close to the base, the comforting earthiness and when 
back then I could get straight up and run, I’d get up and spit and then 
run.  So often I used to just lie there first, and grin in spite of 
myself. 

Just an accident, then I can’t be blamed – can’t feel guilty about these
other people feeling guilty and fucking caring all the time.  I mean I 
care about them too, but right now they’re a fucking bind.  And when 
I’m thinking about them now I’m thinking about the lorry driver, the 
poor bastard who’d have to get out and rake over my tangled-up body.  
He’d look at it.  He’d probably have to touch it for signs of life, 
check me over, even press his lips to mine, and he might just get 
sick... Worse, maybe he wouldn’t touch it because he’d just be too 
repulsed and afterwards he’d feel sick thinking about how he should 
have touched it and how he could have saved the poor kid, (even though 
it was a red light), but how he never had the guts to get down on the 
floor and just do it... And afterwards his wife would try to comfort 
him and stop him crying only to himself but crying to himself is all 
he’d do because you can’t just share that sort of thing so easily and 
so when she doesn’t understand – she can’t understand – when she 
doesn’t understand, it drives this wedge between them and in the end 
they can’t even fucking communicate... 

Before he does any of this though he’d have to get out of the truck and
stand in this rain and this wind which is all blowing at me at the 
moment and it’s messing with my hair and the scarf that I’m wearing and 
my trousers and everything and it’s doing my fucking head in although 
it really shouldn’t be and so I don’t know why. But I’ve walked across 
the road. 

I’m thinking now that the guilt thing is going to screw up my lorry
fantasy and it’s better to go for a more direct ambulance-situation 
where the guys who get in the thick of it are more used to this sort of 
thing.  As an example - I hate those cunts who jump in front of trains 
- especially on the tube where even more people get sucked into your 
finishing yourself off.  But if I was a train driver I wouldn’t feel 
particularly shit – I’d be sorry for whoever it was, that they got that 
bored that they needed to do themselves in, but I wouldn’t blame myself 
for running the bastard down when all I can do is rush this train into 
one direction. - Actually, train drivers are lazy cunts when you think 
about it – I mean it’s not much of a big deal making a train go one 
way.  Maybe there is natural justice and they deserve a few people 
topping themselves under their trains so it’s a bit fairer on all the 
other people who don’t just get paid to do fuck all. 

It feels like I’ve walked a really fucking long way but I haven’t. 
Standing by the platform at West Finchley and looking up at the large 
white sign that has on it the tube emblem with the words ‘West 
Finchley’ across it. Above the emblem is a ‘No Smoking’ symbol and next 
to that is another sign which says ‘No Smoking’ and on it someone has 
stuck on a sticker with the printed word ‘Obey’ on it in bold black 
block letters.  But I don’t know why they went to all the trouble. 

This train I’m waiting for is taking fucking ages, but I’m only aware of
it, knowing in a second that I’m really quite happy with the waiting.  
I used to be very shit indeed at waiting, very impatient, but now I can 
just relax so well into nothing and it seems as though I don’t even get 
bored, when I’m just staring empty-headed in front of me. 


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