Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2 Read Online Free

in the mid-day sun, tae make sure he disnae run away…the bit where everywan in the picture hoose is trying hard no tae let their girlfriends clock that they’re aboot tae start bubbling?  Well, the expression oan her coupon wis mair like that, rather than her sitting there bucketing aw o’er the place.
    “Cool Hand Luke?”
      “Ah don’t care if it rains or freezes, as long as Ah’ve goat ma plastic Jesus, hinging oan the dashboard of ma car…” Johnboy sang, smiling across at Skull.
      “Is that an auld film then?” Skull asked, laughing, efter Johnboy’d finished murdering fuck oot ae the cat.
      “Oh, right, er, naw…it probably came oot efter…efter, ye, er…disappeared,” he replied, feeling his face flush.  “We aw skipped intae the Odeon, doon oan Renfield Street, when it first came oot, bit Ah widnae worry, ye didnae miss that much,” he lied.  “Tony only wanted tae go and see it because Paul Newman wis getting wan o’er oan the basturts.  Bit anyway, getting back tae that ma ae mine.  There she wis, listening tae some song oan Radio Caroline, the tears rolling doon her cheeks. Ah couldnae remember if Ah’d ever seen her greeting before. She never clocked me staunin at the door, so Ah jist crept back alang the lobby tae ma room so as no tae embarrass her.”
      “So, whit wis the song?”
      “Ah’m no sure. It wis being sung by some guy wae a deep voice, twanging away oan a guitar, singing aboot tea and oranges coming aw the way fae China fur his girlfriend who’s name Ah cannae remember noo.”
      “Oranges?  Christ, Ah’d love tae get stuck right intae an orange jist noo, so Ah wid.  Ah’ve forgotten whit they taste like.”
      Despite trying, Johnboy couldnae move a muscle.  He tried haudin his breath in fur as long as possible tae try and get himsel tae wake up, bit it wisnae any good.  He eventually hid tae take in a big deep gulp or he wid’ve passed oot.  He also hid tae keep wiping the tears away fae his eyes wae they fingers ae his.
      “Dae ye fancy a game ae keepy-up?” Skull suddenly asked him, clearly embarrassed at the water works oan display in front ae him.
      “As long as ye don’t start aw yer whinging and cheating,” Johnboy replied, smiling through his tears, glad ae the reprieve fae making even mair ae an arse ae himsel than he awready wis.
      “Aye, well, as long as ye stoap aw that bubbling then.”
      They must’ve played fur aboot an hour or so.  Skull moaned, groaned and argued aw the way through the game, demanding tae start again if he made an arse ae it at the start ae anything.  At wan point, the big, booming, echoing voice ae Creeping Jesus, the turnkey, bawled alang the corridor fur them tae keep the noise doon.
      “Prick!” Skull howled back, as the pair ae them burst oot laughing.
      Johnboy went o’er and plapped that arse ae his back doon wae his back against the wall where he’d been sitting before the game.
      “Hoi, don’t sit doon jist because that Creeping Jesus diddy telt us tae keep the noise doon.”
      “Ah’m no.  Ah’m knackered.”
      “Ye’re humped, that’s whit it is, and ye don’t want tae admit it,” Skull telt him, grinning, plapping his baggy-troosered arse doon opposite Johnboy.
      “So, ye ended up in The Grove jist like Ah said ye wid.”
      “Aye, ye wur right aboot that wan, Skull.”
      “And, how’s that arse ae yers?”
      “Still intact,” Johnboy replied before the baith ae them burst oot laughing.
      “And wis Ah right aboot that shit-hoose ae a place then?”
      “Spot oan, as usual, so ye wur.”
      “See?  Ah telt ye.  It’s no often Ah’m wrang, bit Ah wis right again, so Ah wis.”
      “By the way, Ah’ve started tae bash the auld Bishop.  We aw hiv,” Johnboy announced proudly, wondering whit tae say next.
      “Hiv ye?  Dae ye come?”
      “Buckets,” Johnboy bragged.
      “Wow!”
      Johnboy couldnae stoap himsel fae sitting