Clearing the Air.
I'm on my way down in the lift when it stops on the third floor and that gum chewing twat who never says hello gets in.
I ignore him, there is only so many times I'm going to say hello and not get a reply and quite frankly I don't mind silence.
He stands there reeking of Wrigleys and looks down at the catbox.
'Is that a cat?'
He chews on this for a second.
'I didn't know you had a cat.'
'I have three of them.'
'Yes.' I should point out at this stage that we have now reached the ground floor and I'm waiting for him to get the fuck out of my way so I can leave. In the box I can hear the old dear shaking her head.
'I don't like cats.' he says.
'Oh ?' I say, and suddenly the red mist is there. 'Well I prefer them to fat ignorant bubblegum chewing fucking morons who pretend they can't hear you when you say hello-but hey whaaddya gonna do?'
He blinked and his mouth dropped a bit, I could see the glistening blob of chewing gum resting on his teeth.
I picked up the box and walked out past him.
Addition. Deepest sympathies to the family of Michael McIlveen, the fifteen-year old Catholic shcoolboy who was set upon by a gang of loyalists thugs in Ballymena. Michael was on his way home from the cinema on Sunday when he was stopped by the gang. They beat him with baseball bats and stomped on his head as he lay on the ground, this gang of brave men. He died last night in hospital last night. I've been following his progress and I am heartsick for those who are left behind. He was only a few months older than the little goth kid and this senseless act has both appalled and sickened me.