The point where the spots came I can’t remember but they were large, greasy and sore. We’re not talking acne but those little bastards that would stand out on their own and shout out at that girl that you’re trying to no avail to lose your virginity to.

"RUN AWAY TEMPTED GIRL, THIS GUY IS ONE UGLY SON OF A BITCH"

The kind that would make your eyes water at the very touch let alone the dirty fingernail squeeze in the bathroom.

When the spots came, so did the mischievous, snotty masturbating teenager. We had all discovered masturbating around the same time and at school, we wound each other up, big time.

"Urgh, peters been wanking. He’s gonna wank himself to death!"

"Fuck you guys"

"I heard you in the bogs. You were wanking man urrgh!"

"I was taking a shit."

"WANKER"

But we all knew the horrid, sleazy truth. We were all at it, and it was brilliant. One such lad was Jim. He couldn’t get his mind off it. I’d stay at his house some nights and he and I would stay awake all night in desperate hope of catching a bit of action on the t.v. I’d be out cold by 4 am but we looked out for each other

"Chris get up ya prick. It’s a fucking porno man, it’s a fucking porno."

I had inhaled half his carpet finely lined with hairs of his four dogs and eight cats.

"I’m telling ya it’s a fucking porno"

Adjusting my eyes I focused on the 10" T.V. There was a middle aged woman with a low cut top on, smoking and doing some kind of drole monologue.

"That’s your porno?"

"I swear it mate she’s gonna do it, she’s gonna take it all off and fuck, yeah all of it, any second now."

The credits rolled.

My eyes rolled back into their sockets. I had more important things to attend to - I had just got Miss Jessop’s skirt off in the science class and I wasn’t about to let that dream slip. Miss Jessop (our science teacher) was always teasing us in class, I was sure of it. She’d go into the store room very calm and collective, clothes stretched tightly over her body, and come out ten minutes later flushed to fuck, hair mangled and sporting a tiny smile on the sides of her curling mouth. We all talked intensely about what she got up to in that store, or more importantly what we’d do to her if we got her in there alone. Well now we were alone. Me, Jessop, the store room and one hell of a detention. She reached over and tugged my tie. I choked and the curl on her lips grew. Her science coat lay on the floor missing all the action and I kicked it aside. She pulled me in and stuck a long kiss on my mouth. This was it, all those occasional ten minutes alone in this store room had driven her crazy and she was gonna take it out on me. And I was ready. My hands rose and went for her, first holding her firm around the arse and then with my newly discovered masculinity I pushed her back upon the draws. This was it. I was aware all the lads outside in the classroom knew what was going on and were sick with jealousy and had a horn level of seismic proportions. And the girls...... I didn’t give a fuck about them. They’d get their turn. I was king dong of Acrefield Secondary School. I moved in for the kill............... I became hesitant. I couldn’t put a reason to it at first but then the noise came.. Slap, slap, and the sound of squealing. What the hell were they doing in the classroom. Surely they weren’t. The noise grew louder, much louder.

It was then I woke.

Jim was going at it over some wrinkly 40 year old woman on a late night cooking program on the 10", making little noises as he did the business. I believe fish pie was the lucky dish. I moved onto my side, facing away from him and he paused for a second, and then got back into it.

I’d lost my chance with Jessop and I knew it. I lay there picking the animal hairs out of my mouth.

The night could’ve been a better one but I was optimistic. I may get detention tomorrow.

Bob came round to play often, especially in the summer holidays. He was one of those kids adored by his ever loving mother, pampered to hell and seen as a shining star of a young lad in the community. But I knew him well, very well. He was a sly little shit of a boy, who at any given opportunity would reek havoc and cause as much trouble as was humanly possible. Always with the most pure, innocent smile groping his prepubescent face. I liked him.

The idea came when Bob and I were on a school trip to brighton. Money was short when I was young but what I did have I spent on weird, fucked up things. In this case, a tiny box of stink bombs. Once they were back home Bob and his smile were round to my house in the blink of an eye and drawing plans up on my pool table. What he came up with won a bloody Oscar in my book...

We both hated this other kid who lived over the road, Pip. He was not only a nerd but he smelt real bad. There was only one other person we hated more than Nerdy Pip, Nerdy Pip’s Mother. She’d be out every morning in her front garden across from my house on her hands and knees pulling each individual out of place blade of grass and weed out of the lawn. I don’t think she had a job and I don’t think she’d ever heard of a fucking lawn mower. She became the target, and the D-day for Bob’s plans was getting closer.

The plan was simple, although at the time, to us it was complex, top secret and down right evil. I stared at a tatty piece of paper and it’s scribblings, and Bob’s plans were revealed. All it involved was a newspaper, a clothes peg, some sticky tape and the bomb. Bob rolled up the newspaper and taped the stinker and peg to it. We held the peg open around the neck of the stinking glass vial. The plan was to place it in the letter box of Nerdy Pip’s house with the peg held open. As the newspaper was pulled inside, the peg would clasp together and smash the stinker. To us, it was genius.

We sneaked to the front of Nerdy Pip’s House. We were on the grass verge hiding behind the fence. I was James Bond, fuck knows who Bob was. We crawled closer and my hand sunk. As I looked down the stench hit me. Nerdy Pip had a dog, and I was covered in it. The shit had smothered in my palm and slipped into every crevice. Bob looked at me, smiled, wider than usual and let out a snigger and my blood boiled. That little shit Pip was gonna get it, the cunt. I was fucking Bond, James Bond, Shaken not Stirred. We made a run for it to the letter box and to my surprise the package slipped in easy, staying firmly half way in, waiting patiently for the smelly climax. We turned and made a run for it leaping over my garden wall as we got back. As I ran my smile grew and I found myself, momentarily, ‘a deciple of Bob.’ We got inside and reached my hallway window, grabbed the Binoculars and focused on the box. Nothing.

Then Bang. It disappeared. The Dicks had taken it and we were ecstatic. We screamed and laughed and fell about whilst trying to see if there would be a reaction. Nothing. The laughing turned to a giggle and still we watched. Nothing. We remained smiling (good ones too, Ben had taught me well.) Nothing. By now the smell would have seeped up the Nerd’s hallway, under the doors and into the bedrooms, surely something had to give. Surely.... We waited for ten minutes then Bob went home for dinner, and I still had shit on my hand.

As the summer wore on, Bob and I wanted results. Nerdy Pips Mum was nowhere to be seen and the Stink Bomb anti climax had left us gagging to prove our worth. And then it came. In the form of the ‘Widow Of Death.’ The ‘Widow of Death’ was a long black catapult with a strap to go around your wrist for extra power. It was a magnificent, beautiful beast and the summer was looking up. We had gone to a dodgy fishing shop named ‘Raymonds Tackle and Parts’ and I don’t know how the hell we were allowed to buy it but the shopkeeper (possibly Raymond - I didn’t ask) hardly blinked an eye. I almost felt like cursing, knowing that it had been here, in this shop all my life and I didn’t know about it. Who gived a fuck, it was time to have some real fun.

Back at the house Bob and I waited for nightfall. We’d planned it all out, positioned ourselves in my bedroom, turned the lights out and opened the back window. Fuck knows what my parents must have thought we were up to. With it being dark in my room we knew we wouldn’t get seen or attract attention from any of the poor victims we were about to fire upon. I already had a neat little collection of rounded pebbles from my Dad’s ornate patio display in the garden, and it was time. The stink bomb couldn’t have been further from our minds. I held the Widow. It shined in the moonlight and I was all powerful. I placed the pebble into the crutch of the beast and pulled back. The elastic roared silently, I paused slightly and then let it fly. And fly it did, the stone disappearing out of sight almost immediately. We waited briefly, silence. But I wasn’t gonna be beaten. I repeated the process in a fit of courage and let the second stone fly.....Thud. A feeling entered my body and Bob’s smile was apparent once more. It had hit...something.

“Fucking Yeah”

No sooner had the stone hit than Bob had the Widow strapped to his arm and he was letting them shoot like a machine gun. In quiet wisps they went out of the window and into the unknown. Thud, nothing, nothing, Thud, Nothing, SMASH

“FUCKING YEAH” Bob screamed

“FUCKING NO, YOU DICK” I whispered.

I automatically felt guilty, I’d fucked up someone's greenhouse. What if I get caught. Then I felt it again, the sides of my mouth stretching. We were gonna do this again.

Bob had his lunch the next day (Ham sandwiches on lightly buttered soft white bread cut into perfect triangles, I’m sure) and arrived at my front door. We were the Hyltie Crescent Hard Boys., although my road always sounded more suited to Nerdy Pip and his weird mother. It was afternoon and we weren’t about to wait around till dark, so we were straight out into the back garden with the Widow strapped, ready and drooling for more. But there was a difference, even after going as far as we had the night before, the nerves had gone. We didn’t need the dark, we were unstoppable. Bob fired first this time, he had the taste of the widow, even through his pathetic ham sandwiches. The stones went up above the garage, over and towards the front of the house and the road. I grabbed the ‘Widow of Death’ back and had my fix. The summer was good and the sun was out. Then the bushes rustled to our left. It was Pips Mum from over the road. She was swaying slightly in the breeze but for me everything was perfectly still. The beast slumped in my grip as I looked at her face. At first I was drawn to her eyes, focused, bloodshot and wide, but they faded as my own eyes caught the side of her head. It was open, wide and the blood flowed. It was rich and red and kind of mesmerizing. The blue sky would never be the same.

“Oh it’s You” she said

I opened my mouth but nothing came, and as I swallowed it felt like I had sucked down one of my rounded pebbles. I turned and Bob was gone. It was quiet. I stared at the floor, sobbed and watched the tears drop and splash on dad’s neat summer patio, the catapult still strapped to my wrist. The next time I looked up again she was gone too.

I never saw her or Pip again. I think they moved away at the end of the summer.

Autumn was boring and Bob and I walked into town. Apparently bb guns were on sale at 'Raymond's.'