Boy Number 26 by Tommy Rhattigan

Author:Tommy Rhattigan [Rhattigan, Tommy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Misery Memoir
ISBN: 9781912624171
Publisher: Mirror Books
Published: 2019-01-17T06:00:00+00:00

No Smoke Without Fire

The next morning, Donkey was still smarting from the wasp stings, though his face didn’t seem as puffy. And the blank expression in his eyes seemed to be back to its normal state. The sobbing had also stopped, so things were looking up for the lot of us. It had been so bad on the Saturday night, Paddy O’Neil had rushed into our dormitory, swearing on his mother’s and father’s lives, including all his other family and relatives, that if we didn’t shut his gob up, he was going to throw Donkey out of the window.

There was nothing else we could do but take desperate measures, we put a folded blanket underneath each back leg of Donkey’s bed. And then, lifting the front legs off the ground, we managed to slide him quietly out of the dormitory and down along the polished corridor into the bathhouse, leaving him, and everyone else, in peace. It hadn’t been too difficult to convince the morning staff that, although he had no memory of it, Donkey had pushed the bed down to the bathhouse of his own accord.

It was my idea that led to Donkey setting fire to the stable block. I’d suggested to him he could have his revenge on the wasps by smoking them out of their nest. This, I thought, would make them dopier than they already were, which, in turn, would make them a much easier target for Donkey to whip to his heart’s content.

“Okay. Light the match and put it to the end of this,” I said, holding up the oily old piece of hessian sacking I’d found over in the corner of the shed. Donkey lit it and I blew out the flame, then handed the smouldering sacking to him. “Gently put it down between them boxes and quickly scarper back outside. It should only take a few minutes ta smoke the feckers out, if there’s any still in there.”

Having waited outside for a short while, Collins and I stayed put while Donkey went back into the stable block to see what was happening. Moments later, we could hear the whooshing sounds of his cane cutting the air, along with the sound of his demented, gleeful laughter. Walking to the open doorway, we stood looking in as he whacked out at the slightest thing that moved, prodding, slashing and then stamping his foot down on his prey.

“Ouch! Yah bastard!” he suddenly yelped in pain before dropping the cane, stung on his whipping hand. We were in stitches as we watched him frantically flailing his hands and feet about, while a few wasps chased him in a circle. Then the gormless idiot accidentally kicked one of the boxes housing the wasps’ nest.

“R-r-r-run!’ Collins stuttered the warning as a swarm of wasps flew out of the smoke like a squadron of Spitfires coming out of the clouds. I didn’t wait for a second warning, taking flight up along the old pathway in the direction of the football pitch, with Collins just a few yards behind me.

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