Rebels apo da bus

By Jacqui Clark

Da bus is usually quiet.


Some haes peerie plugs in dir lugs we variations on dir choice o tunes. Heads nod - occasionally banging up quickly tae see whaar dey ir fae da zeds o dir unsettled snooze.


A Wednesday is different. Dat’s Coort day. Da rebels drag demsells fae dir pits tae join wis on da ten tae eight tae toon.


Dis twa ir Coort day regulars. Followin da inevitable path laid afore dem be midders at wirna midders.


Dey nod at me whan I sit doon opposit dem.


Dey’re usually quiet but dis day dey’re a bit spicky.        


I’m wantin a dug man. Wan o yon staffy tings ken lik.
Ya got a train it - canna just hae it lik doin whit it wants an shit man.
Watched a YouTube did’n ah. 

What if it shits an stuff in da flat?
Ah’ll train it.

Whan it’s a puppy it’s no trained.
I’ll clean it eh.

Aaah right man. Sounds good like.


Da dream o da dug distracts dem as silence faas ageen. I glance troo da window covered in da drips o aabody’s breath an winder at… 


Has you seen at skate park thing at ey’ve pitten up at da Knab man?
Ah loved skateboarding whan I was peerie.
Mind we used tae say at youthie gonna gee wis a skate park so ats like somewhere to go at night an shit. Dey’ve finally listened tae wis.

Got lottery money or summin? Stupid place tae pit it tho.
Better in da centre skitterin around folks feet man.

Yea lik Auld Betsy shoutin “get yon skateboard away fae my feet boys!”
Shu wis a cookie her. Shu used tae gee wis fags man.

Oh yea at wis right eh. Shu didna see da sense o a skateboard tho. “Whit’s wrang we usin da legs da guid lord geed you boys, redder as rollin aboot on yon plastic hellery?”


Dey look awkward we dir memory an correct demsells at da same time - shiftin uncomfortably in dir seat an pushin dir shoulders back in order to regain dir personas. 


Ah geed lik.
Whaar?
Fan an auld skateboard to try it oot lik. Wis too peerie.

Eh?
Ah cooldna get nuff speed or dat. Too peerie lik.

Man du has shit fur brains.
Ah know eh.

Coorse it’s too peerie – it’s fur bairns eh. Too peerie! It’s no gonna be fur lik grown ups or at is it.
Why no? We both did lik skateboardin an shit eh – nothin stoppin us doin at noo lik.

Na na. Eh? Whit wid we o said if dey’d a pitten in a skate park when we wir peerie an a great bloody idiot lik you cam along eh - we yer rotten teeth an fags hingin oot yer erse.
I’d a said “hey gee us a fag man”.

Yer spikken utter shite.


I lift me head a peerie bit tae see whit dey’re doin noo.  Wan is rollin a fag ready fir da journey’s end an da idder is clutchin his hands fae da cauld air o da bus.


Da cauld air o judgement at he gets ivverytime he sets fit ootside. Folk keen whaa he is. Folk ken at dey wirk shite an folk read dir names in da paper in da coort roond ups. 


Here’s da ting though.
Wha?
How do they mak da concrete curve?

Eh?
At da skate park lik. How is da concrete curvey?

Shit man I donno eh. Is it lik a man on his knees we a thing smoothin it?
Ah donno.


Somebody on da bus most keen? No? I want tae keen. Whit a question. It’s da biggest question I’ll hear dis day.


Dey press da button tae stop da bus outside da coorts.


I look up. Dey nod.


“See you later boys.”


Aye - see you.


I keen da boys of coorse fae youthie. 


I wallow, as I do most Wednesdays, in my guilt at contributing tae da years at followed whan dey rebelled firenest aabody an aating. 


Da rebels at wir handheld aa da way but never really listened tae.



 


I smeeg as a towt enters my head.
How rebellious tae write dir we dunna spik dialect onymair wirds.  Da Dialect Dictionary huggers wid hae something tae say aboot dat - an my badly spelled and grammatically incorrect wirds.
It’s a livin fing lik ken whit ah mean. It’s no longer wit you lot fin in da aulder books o words – an ah nose ah’m right… man.


 


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