Friday, 20 September 2013

Q Busters

I usually wait for my prescription in the chemist's shop. It doesn't take too long and if I don't, then I'm bound to forget to go and collect it for days. During my wait, I have a scour around the shelves, look at the hair dyes and cosmetics, perfumes - nothing too expensive, in fact all very cheap, a rack full of budget vitamin pills and cough meds.
The door pushes open and a young lady - a big tumshie, as my uncle in Lorne Street would've described her - stumbles in, followed by a stick thin guy with a shaved head and the trace of a knife-line. She plumps down on the padded seats and breathes heavily, her eyes popping and her shoulders heaving. The guy is bobbing up and down at the window, giving a running commentary, 
"That's them oot the van. Whit's he daein'? Wherr's he gauin'?"
I look out and see a police van parked in the distance with an officer walking around it and then getting back into the front. 
The sales assistant lady asks in a direct voice, "Yes, can I help you?" and the girl, without turning round, wheezes, "I'm in to get my prescription." 
And now the sales lady is snookered, because it's not ready yet and so the pair are entitled to wait. So the sales lady waits too, in behind the counter, with her arms folded and one beady eye fixed on them and the other on the police activity outside. 
The door bursts open again and a shock headed scraggy guy bounds in, laughing out loud and ducks down by the girl and whispers to her and then stands up and talks in a low voice to the guy who is still watching the police van. 
The sales assistant speaks out with some authority, "Are you in to buy something?"
The guy stands up respectfully straight. "Ah'm waiting for my friends," and then resumes the low voices conversation. 
As the police van pulls away, the pair move over to the seated girl. "They were efter x, jist as well we went in here." 
"Aye," says the pal. 
"They wouldnae huv got it oot me anywey," he says assertively.
The girl's eyebrows are painted on in the shape of arches and her cheeks are rosy and round and her eyes are still wide. " Aye, jist as well, cos we know whit you're like."
And at that, the assistant calls out in a vexed voice and with a fierce grimace, "Prescription for Docherty."

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