The moment I enter the store, the burly black security guard is eyeballing me. I look rough, so that's understandable, but unsettling nonetheless. It doesn't help that I'm wearing a huge motherfucker of a jacket, pockets deeper than something really fucking deep.
I meander to the canned drinks, some queer looking kid in a red hoodie passes me, eye contact all the fucking way. Acne scars riddle his face. I stand in front of the canned drinks and stare for a while, absorbed into the decision making process.
This is the biggest decision of your life.
I pick an Irn-Bru, a Dr. Pepper and a Vimto. My hand lingers over the Vimto for a while.
Yeah, that's the good shit.
As I begin to walk to the tills, the security guard is scoping me out, I line up. The guy stands in front of the kid, and lifts up his his hoodie. It reveals a packet of fizzy strawberry laces.
Shit man, strawberry laces are real fucking good.
The kid stands there a while, unsure what to do. After the buzzer being rung for assistance, and the police being mentioned the kid tries to run.
The burly fucker tackles.
Kid crumples.
Kid goes down like a wet fucking flannel.
I walk out the store and open my Irn-Bru.
Yeah, that's the good shit.
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