From small acorns

“Whatever happened to all the characters in this town?”

“What you mean like?”

“You know all the weirdos about when we were kids. You don't see ‘em anymore do yer?”

Nick took a mouthful of his pint and sat back in the chair and pondered the question for a while trying to think back for a memory of anyone he'd have considered a character. Having racked his brains he sat back forward and said to Will “Mate, I'm really struggling here but I can't think of anyone.”

“Fucking hell mate you are getting old aren't ya!”

“Same age as you though aren't I!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah! OH!” and they both laughed and took another mouthful of their pints. 

“Here's one for yer Nick. What about Mrs Kennedy?”

“Oh shit yeah forgot about her like.”

“Brain does that with trauma dun it? She did you like a kipper in front of that bird you liked. What were er’name?”

“Which one?”

“I don't bleeding know do I, it were a different one with you every bloody week kid.”

“Anyways what do you mean she did me like a kipper?”

“Christ what were er’name… it'll come to me. Anyways we were sat in park and Mrs Kennedy came down road and you said summat to her trying to give it biggun and show off in front of girl you liked. And she turned round and went…”

“OH FUCK ME don't say it!”

“And she went,” as Will tries to adopt the voice of a 70 year old woman “You cheeky little bastard. I've seen your willy and it's nothing to write home about Nicholas. I'd give him a wide berth if I were you love,” before slipping back into his normal voice and added for good measure “and she fucked off having properly mugged you off making you look like a right twat,” before collapsing into a fit of hysterics in his chair. 

“Oh shit yeah I remember that. I had to explain to … oh Christ what was her name… it'll come to me… I had to explain that I hadn't been getting me knob out for an old woman and that Mrs Kennedy had looked after me as a toddler.”

“No honestly it's not tiny now,” Will adds managing to stop himself laughing just long enough to get the words out. 

“Don't know what you're laughing bout anyway cause what did she say before she left?”

Will clearly remembers because his laughter has all of a sudden had the brakes put on it. “Nothing. She didn't say nowt.”

“Yeah she fucking did, cause she went,” and now it was Nicks turn to try immitate her “and I don't know what you're laughing at William I've seen your willy too and I've seen acorns fallen under trees that were bigger.” Now it's Nick's turn to fall about in hysterics. 

“What dickhead brought up conversation bout characters?” Will asks sounding somewhat grumpy all of a sudden. 

“You!”

“I knoh what a dickhead. Bloody acorn dick. You bastards called me that fer months after,” he shakes his head in disbelief and then starts to laugh again whilst Nick struggles to regain any sense of composure. 

Vicky the landlady of the St George comes waddling over from behind the bar.

“What are you two bleeding idiots bloody well giggling bout like a pair of schoolboys over ere?”

“He's got a dick the size of an acorn Vic.”

Will's face is one of utter horror like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Oh well luv, nevermind ey,” and she gives his shoulder a little pat and waddles off to collect the empty glasses from a neighbouring table.

It's possible Vicky might have just broken Nick as he clutches his ribs for dear life, trying to catch his breath, tears rolling down his face, his shoulders tensed up and his head nodding like a dog in the back of a car window.

“I hope it bloody well urts you little gobshite!” and Will gets off his seat and walks to the bar to get a refill with the sound of Nick's howling laughter echoing in his ears. Occasionally he caught his breath just long enough to mutter “acorn dick,” and set himself off laughing again. 

Christ with mates like that who needs bleedin enemies ey?