Imagine two little boys growing up together in a small village on the outskirts of Chesterfield, not a care in the world. Equals, friends; used to go tree climbing together with the rest of the kids. Nothing could come between them.
Just like most childhood friendships people get distant and go their separate ways and by the time you get older they just become someone you nod to in passing.
The first boy grows up to become somewhat normal, has friends that are a good influence on him; the second is left with the rest of the people that live in the village that aren’t a good influence. He gets into drugs, can’t control himself and becomes mentally unstable; locked away in the looney bin and then prison multiple times.
The first boy grows up to become me, the second boy grows up to become a guy called Mike, who turned into a drain on society. He never worked, always used to walk around the streets drinking beer; causing trouble. Not just a drug addict, also a woman beater. I remember countless times hearing him and some poor naive girl having it out on the street at 3 in the morning.
I watched him once and saw him look round then back hand his misses in the face. That was it, I got dressed; went out there and beat the shit out of him. He walked around this village like he owned it but the moment he saw me walking his way he’d cross the road and too right too. Fuck knows what his parents thought of him, especially after going down for rape.
With this being quite a small village you hear things on the grapevine too about how he knocked up some girl and when she refused to get an abortion he gave her a few jabs in the stomach which did remedy his problem as it were.
Seeing his face strutting on my streets sickened me and the fact that people actually liked this cunt makes it worse.
So today I pick my mother up from bingo (I was promised KFC, I had to.) and she tells me she got a taxi the other day whose parents live in my village and they say that Mike actually died last week.
You’d think as I live here I would know about it but believe me when I say, unless I really need to (like at the shop or something) I don’t talk to anyone who lives here. I hate this village and actually can’t wait to move out.
Apparently he killed himself taking an overdose of Methamphetamines, unsure whether it was accidental or not, I assume it was.
Death doesn’t usually put a smile on my face but this certainly did, I look on his Facebook page and everyone is writing him messages he’ll never see telling him how much they loved him and how much they’ll miss him (most of them seem to be young girls) but here is one person that won’t miss you. You were a disgraceful human being, you drug taking, abusive, woman beating psychopath.
They used to say how it wasn’t his fault that he had mental problems but they all derived directly as a result of drugs; he never worked a day in his life; the only work he had to do was get on the bus to collect his benefits and I know society and the human gene pool can breathe a massive sigh of relief now that he’s dead.
And trust me when I say if there is an afterlife, you won’t be up there, you’ll be burning down below for eternity.
It’s amazing how two people from the same background and stray so differently. To sum up the 24 years we’ve known each other…