Mucky Fingers

by P. R. Zed


"Oi, keep your mucky fingers off me. I don't know where they've been."

"They're right where they've always been, Doyle, at the end of my hands."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"You have wounded me, sir. Deeply."

"Don't come posh with me, mate. I know you're just a jumped up Scouser."

"Better to be from Liverpool than Derby."

"Now you've wounded me. And you're still touching me."

"You know how it is, Doyle. People like to touch the goods."

"Are you calling me goods?"

"Well, what do you expect when you put yourself on display like that?"

"You must be mad, mate. I don't put myself on display."

"No, sorry, I must have a different Ray Doyle. The one with the skin tight jeans and the unbuttoned shirt."

"My shirt's not...All right, maybe it is."

"Nah, don't do it up, mate. Looks good the way it is."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Hmmm."

"What?"

"You in the habit of looking at me, then?"

"Possibly."

"Yes or no?"

"Christ, Doyle, you're a trial, you are."

"Yes or no?"

"Yes. Satisfied?"

"Maybe."

"What about you, Doyle?"

"What about me?"

"D'you make a habit of looking at me?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Bodie."

"Ah, so you do, then."

"Absolutely not."

"You're a liar, Doyle. The Cow'd be shocked."

"The Old Man could teach us both a thing or two about lying."

"Yeah, you're right, there. And don't distract me from the question. You do look at me."

"Not bloody likely, Bodie."

"And you fancy me something rotten."

"Now I know you really are delusional. Better watch it mate. The men in white coats'll be along any minute."

"If they do appear, it'll be to lock you up for being an incorrigible liar."

"'M not a liar. Bodie! I thought I told you to keep your hands off me."

"Did you? I must have forgotten."

"You're a berk, you are. Oh."

"Like that, did you?"

"Not sure. P'rhaps you should do it again."

"Your wish is my command, Raymond."

"'S nice, that is."

"I can make it nicer."

"Wish you would."

"For you, anything."

"Christ, Bodie, don't stop."

"Never, Ray."

"Ah."

"Hmph."

"What?"

"Now my fingers really are mucky."

"You mad bastard. I'll make the rest of you mucky and all."

"That's what I'm counting on, Sunshine."

"You really are mad, aren't you?"

"'Course I am. Only a madman could love you."

"And do you? Love me?"

"What do you reckon?"

"I reckon you might."

"And what about you, Doyle?"

"What about me?"

"Don't play thick. Do you..."

"Yeah, yeah. I reckon I must do. Why else would I put up with you?"

"That's my Raymond. All sweetness and light."

"And you wouldn't have me any other way."

"Too right."

Fin



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