The Butcher Boy

than that! That's very disappointing, nobody at all! Well I'm afraid I'll just have to volunteer someone. Right come on up here Philip and show the class. That's the boy. Good lad Philip. Watch carefully now everyone. Philip got red as a beetroot and twisted up his face as he went to work. Now, class! What would you call someone that does that? Not a boy at all – a pig! Say it everyone! Come on! Pig! Pig! Pig!

That's very good. Come on now Philip you can try even harder!

What do you think Mrs Nugent? Isn't Philip a credit?

At first Mrs Nugent was shy about what he was doing but when she saw the great effort he was making she said she was proud of him. And so you should be I said. Harder Philip harder!

He went at it then for all he was worth and then there it sat proud as punch on the carpet of the bedroom, the best poo ever.

It really was a big one, shaped like a submarine, tapered at the end so your hole won't close with a bang, studded with currants with a little question mark of steam curling upwards.

Well done, Philip, I cried, you did it! I clapped him on the back and we all stood round admiring it. It was like a rocket that had just made it back from space and we were waiting for a little brown astronaut to open a door in the side and step out waving. Philip, I said, congratulations! I was beaming with pride at Philip's performance. I wouldn't have believed he had it in him. Philip was proud as punch too. I turned to the class. Boys, I said, who's the best pig in the whole pig school? Can you tell me? Philip they all cried without a moment's hesitation. Hip hip hooray. Clap clap the class lifted the roof. Very good easy now steady I said. Now its time for Mrs Nugent to show us how well she can perform. Can she do poo as well as her son Philip? We'll soon find out! Are you ready Mrs Nugent? I was waiting for her to say yes Francis indeed I am then away she'd go hoisting up her nightdress and scrunching up her red face trying to beat Philip but I'm afraid that wasn't what happened at all.

Mrs Nugent was there all right but she wasn't in her nightdress. She was wearing her day clothes and carrying a bag of stuff she had brought back from Buttsy's.

Her mouth was hanging open and she was crying again pointing to the broken mirror and the writing on the blackboard I mean wall. I looked at Philip he was white as a ghost too what was wrong with him now, hadn't he got the prize for the pig poo what more did he want? But Mr Nugent said he was in charge now. I'll deal with this!, he said in his Maltan Ready Rubbed voice. Philip and Mrs Nugent went downstairs and then there was only me and him. He looked good Mr Nugent you had to say that for him. His hair was neatly combed across his high forehead in a jaunty wave and he had shiny leather patches on the sleeves of his jacket. He sported a pioneer pin too – that was a metal badge the Sacred Heart gave to you and it meant you were saying: I've never taken a drink in my life and I have no intention of ever taking one either! He stared me right in the eye he didn't flinch once. He didn't even raise his voice. He said: You won't get away with it this time! This time I'll see to it you're put where you belong. And you'll clean up that before you leave here with the police and the walls too for my wife's not going to do it. You've put her through enough. Well, that Mr Nugent, I thought. How was I supposed to run a proper pig school with these kind of interruptions? Mm? That's what I want to know I said. But not to Mr Nooge to myself. What I said to him was: Tell me Mr Nugent how's Buttsy getting along? He didn't answer me so I just went on talking away to him about all sorts of other stuff. He was standing with his back to the door in case I might make a run for it. But I couldn't be bothered running anywhere. The rocket had cooled now and the tail of steam was gone. I was thinking about the small astronaut appearing out of the door saluting with a grin on his face reporting for duty sir when this smack hits me right on the side of the face and there's the sergeant standing there rubbing his knuckles and saying: Don't, don't! Or you'll be the sorry man. Don't don't what was he talking about don't what? You'll clean it up, he seethed, make no mistake about that. Of course I'd clean it up if he wanted me to I don't know what he was getting all hot and bothered about. I brought it off down the garden in a bit of newspaper and broke it up with a stick behind the nettles. I was whistling. If there was a small astronaut inside it he'd had it now. Mrs Nugent was still crying when I left but Mr Nooge put his arm around her and led her inside. When the silent films are over sometimes this hand comes out of nowhere and hangs up a sign with the end on it. That's what it was like when we were driving away in the car. The Nooges' house standing there and the hand hanging up the sign on the doorknob as phut phut off we went.

So that was the end of Nugents, for the time being anyway.

The sergeant was going on about ma in the front seat how he'd courted her years ago when she was one of the nicest women in the town only for the tribe she had to get herself in with. Thank God she's not here to see the like of this he said.

No, I said, she's in the lake, and it was me put her there.

By Christ if you were mine I'd break every bone in your body, he said. Then he wiped his mouth and muttered: Not that you could be any different.

We sped by the convent. There was a few of the lads from the school kicking a ball up against the wall. I gave them a big wave through the window and they waved back for a minute until they seen it was me. Then what did they do only pick the ball up as if I was going to get at it or something. I waved again but they pretended not to see me. They weren't so keen on me after the time they had me on the school team that played Carrick. Oh now says the master you're a wiry wee buck you'll make a good winger. I've seen you you can move as fast as a March hare when you want to. I even scored two goals I don't know what they were talking about. It was this big galoot on the other team. He says to me half-way through the match right you you shifty little fucker you're going to get it and what does he do only cut the legs from under me I did nothing he says to the ref and gets away with it. I was all twisted up with pain and I was limping for a good twenty minutes to look at me you'd think poor Francie Brady will never play again. That must have been what he thought for the next time I had the ball he comes strolling over to me as if he's just going to pluck it off my toe. Well he could if he wanted to he could do what he liked all I was interested in was getting him back for what he did on me so soon as he comes over I lifted the boot from behind and bang right in under between the legs and he goes down like a sack of spuds agh agh and all this. Just before the ref came over I managed to get another dig in at the butt of his back, studs and all. I was going to try the same trick what did I do but the ref took my name and put me off. The master gave out to me and wouldn't listen to my side of the story so I says fuck youse and your football after that. But I don't think they wanted me on the team anyway. I'd say that big Carrick bastard would be glad to hear that. He was so big I could nearly run in between his legs. Before I kicked the crigs off him that is.

The sergeant reminded me of the clown in Duffy's circus not the way he looked but when he talked. Especially when he was telling you all the terrible things were going to happen to you now. H'ho! he'd say. And H'haw! Just the same as Sausage the clown. H'ho yewer an awfill man altogedder, Sausage'd say and away off round the ring with his stripey legs flying. Him and the sergeant must have been born in the same town or something.

He was off again. H'ho when a the priests get their hands on you there won't be so much guff outa ye h'ho. I said I'm sorry Sergeant Sausage but he stubbed the fag excitedly in the ashtray and said its too late for that me buck you shoulda thoughta that when you were in Nugents up to your tricks! H'ho aye!

Boo hoo, Sergeant Sausage, I said.

He was so excited he didn't even notice I had called him Sergeant Sausage. There were laurel bushes all along the avenue and a gardener forking manure and muttering to himself. When we went past in the car he stood looking after us with one hand on his hip and tipping his cap back. I made a face at him through the back window and he nearly fell into the manure heap. Up she rose out of nowhere the house of a hundred windows. This is a grand spot I said. H'ho says the sergeant we'll see if you say that in six months time! H'ha.

A man made of bubbles in charge of a school for bad boys it was hard to believe but it was true for there he was at the window his big bubble head and out he comes bouncing bounce bounce ah Howareye! he says to the sergeant, I never saw such a big bright white polished head as that old Father Bubble had. Howareye at all! he says again and the sergeant starts to huff and puff and try to dicky up his uniform. Oh not too bad now Father did ye have a nice trip not too bad eh Father thanks.