Rat

Chapter 1

My stomach is grumbling violently. I clench it tightly, although I’m not sure if this soothes or merely antagonises the situation as a sharp pain shoots through my body, only to be replaced by sheer euphoria once it passes. I open my eyes as my stop finally approaches, and run my shaky, sweaty palm over my face and through my hair to brace myself for the walk ahead. Come on Tony, only fifteen minutes and I’m there.
Once off the bus I cut up through D’Olier street and quickly make my way up the Quays. Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot, as I eat up the pavement, concentrating with scientific precision not to disrupt my rhythm and risk some further bowel movement. Just before I reach the traffic light it hits me again, another pang of pain. Fuck. I’m not going to make it. I’m hunched over at the traffic light as the green man signals and everyone brushes past me, pretending like they can’t see me. After a couple of seconds I regain my composure and plough forward to get to work. It’ll all be okay once I get to work.
As I get closer the Jeannie Johnston is to my right. Everyday that bastard ship is there mocking me, letting me know what a spineless rat I really am. Everyday the wind swirls through its flapping masts with it countless taunts. “Cuuunnnt” it hollers repeatedly as I walk past. Well, it’s certainly getting its money’s worth today as I hunch over yet again. My bowels begin to loosen and I feel it pushing out between my cheeks like a turtle’s head. Oh Fuck. I pray, please god, not here. I increase the pace while massaging my stomach. The pain takes over and I try to control my breathing with short, deep breaths. If I don’t get into the office in the next 60 seconds I am going to give birth to this shit in the middle of the IFSC. I try to increase my pace, while making sure not to break stride or make any sudden movements. Never have I been so glad to see the company’s lettering as I approach the building, my now three favourite letters in the English language; A-I-G. A wave of elation overtakes my body and I feel like I’ve just scored the winner in the world cup final, but wait, there’s a whistle...
And now the linesman is consulting with the referee. The goal, the goal has been ruled offside. Now a new feeling rushes through my body as chunks of dark matter flow out of it. No words can describe this feeling. I quickly make my way through the revolving doors, straight past security, and into the men’s toilets. Once in a cubicle I proceed to finish off what I’d already started in my pants, while the cold seat numbs my ass and shame. I check my phone and it informs me I am already ten minutes late. Fuck!
I rapidly strip off and try in vain to right my wrongs. No amount of toilet paper and water is going to save my trousers. I throw my shit-splattered boxers in the bin beside me, and scrub frantically as the stench gets worse, causing me to gag. Bobby Sands would be proud, I thought. At least Bobby had a cause, what the fuck am I doing? Why didn’t I just stay in bed? I fucking hate this job more than I hate Roy Keane, and yet here I am literally wallowing in my own shit.
Having done the best I can, I leave the toilet and take the lift to the third floor. I swipe the door and immediately tell Emma - who is mindlessly keying at a Bloomberg terminal - to go and get Al for me.
“Alright Tony, are you ok?” she asks.
“Yeah, just get Al.” I command.
She slowly shuffles away as I pound on the lift button with my fist, the smell of shit wafting through my nostrils.
As the lift door opens I’m greeted by Al.
“Hey Tony,” he surveys my face before adding, “Oh my god, you look like shit. Are you okay?”
I stick one foot in the lift hoping to hide my stench before replying, “I’ve been better mate, think I have a stomach bug.”
“Yeah, drinking Southern Comforts till four o’clock in the morning on a school night will have that affect on you, slut.”
He starts to approach so I jump in the lift and select my floor before he gets any closer.
I hold the door open with one hand and pop my head out. “Just tell Evebot that I’m dying and that I’ll phone her later for an update.”
With that, the lift door slams shut, and I’m left to reflect on that cheeky bastard’s comments.
One fucking day. I’ve been sick one day in ten months and yet he makes out like I’m Colin Farrell. I wouldn’t mind, but he’s a human tampon - in for one day and out for a month. Last week alone he took three days off because he trawled the net and ended up on a gaydar rampage, which culminated in three fucks, and him walking like John Wayne for the rest of the week.
I’m not even out of the building when my phone rings. The number begins with 612 which means only one thing - work. Please let it be Al.
“Hello, Anthony speaking.”
“Hi Anthony, it’s Evelyn here,” she replies back in a patronizing, teacher tone.
Can’t she even give me five minutes, just five fucking minutes?
“Evelyn I’m really not feeling well, and I have to go home...” before I can even finish my sentence she interrupts.
“I know, it’s just Alphonsus is not your manager. I am your manager.” she rattles out, her voice quite stern.
“I know Evelyn but I was sick in the toilet and threw up a little on myself. I really wasn’t in a presentable state to be able to inform you”. Jesus, could this get anymore degrading?
“Well, it’s procedure, Anthony. Are you still in the building so we can box off your work, and establish what needs to be covered?”
“No, sorry Evelyn, I’m actually already past the bridge, and Alphonsus already knows what needs to be covered. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”
“Right, well, if anything does pop up I’ll contact you on this number. Give me a call back in the afternoon to inform me of any developments.” With that Evelyn hangs up.
Developments? What the hell is wrong with that woman? Does she want me to ring back and tell her how many times I threw up, to describe the texture to her? Well Evelyn, it was quite chunky this morning but it seems to have thinned out throughout the day, although in hindsight the chicken curry was not a good idea last night. Or perhaps a more detailed log;

15:23: An advert for Lily Allen’s latest album is on the TV. I think about how savage she’d be in the sack as I stroke my cock.

The sad thing is Evelyn would probably love that. She’d run with the idea to human resources, and next thing you know it’s yet another procedure, and once something becomes a procedure it’s legally binding. Fact.
I’m walking past Citibank when I’m distracted from my train of thought. “Cuuunnt...” is caught lingering in a gust of wind. I don’t even have to turn my head for I know who it is. It’s that damn Jeannie Johnston again. Every day since I began my career in the IFSC that boat has remained docked. My own personal monument. A testament to all my life’s failings. Everyday I bitch and I moan; how I hate my job, how I hate my life, how I hate being a fat, Jonny Corporate, sell-out rat, how the people, these Gordon Gekko-wannabe scum are a plague on humanity, how a fucking shitty lunch never costs less than a tenner because we’re part of the financial services elite, how there are more coffee shops than there are good people, how these soulless companies come over in their droves getting fat on tax incentives and kickbacks, accounting record profits and churning out exorbitant bonuses while announcing staff culls at the drop of a hat. How I hate that fucking Jeannie Johnston.

Chapter 2

The next day I scuffle to my desk and am greeted by the same grey, gormless faces. No “how are you? Are you better now?” just the click clack of keypads and mouses.
I sit down in my chair when it catches my eye, an envelope with handwriting I know only too well. Joanne.
I open it up and it’s four pages long, front and back. I scan through the first paragraph and it’s yet another ode to Tony. The words “love” and “forever” punctuate the letter like full stops. I crunch it up and throw it in the bin. How the fuck did I end up in this situation?
I log on to my computer and check my email, which consists of miscellaneous work crap, and yet more spam from Joanne.
The day meanders away and before I know it, it’s six o’ clock - time to get pissed!
I head over to Lagoona where I’m confronted by Joanne. I know she’s talking because her second chin starts to wobble, but I couldn’t be arsed to pay attention so instead I zone out and nod, scanning the room for conversation-worthy people but in this case Alphonsus will have to do.
“Alright Al,” I bark out a little too desperately.
He takes the bait and slinks in beside me. I turn to Joanne and tell her I’ll talk to her later.
She heads to the bar and immerses herself with the other rats. Thank Christ.
“Jesus Tony, even by your standards Joanne’s bad”. Al informs me as he playfully elbows me.
“I know Al, she’s a grade A moonpig but I just can’t shift the wildebeest. Every time I try to dump her she mails me two hundred times a day, and leaves at least two love letters on my desk. It’s getting to the stage were I’m going to come home from work one day to find her in my garden with a rabbit’s head chopped off.”
“But you don’t even own a fucking rabbit.”
“Exactly.”
“So what has you out on a Tuesday?”
“The same as you Al - work. How come there’s so many out tonight? And more importantly, what the fuck is Evebot doing out?”
“It’s some Deutsche bank thank-you-for-all-your-hard-work do.”
“So, free drink for the night then?”
“I guess so,"
“Well I’ll drink to that.”

Eight pints later and I’m totally locked. I look down and Joanne’s industriously sucking my flaccid cock. I could try to humour her but it’d just be a waste of a good hard on.
Someone continues to bang on the door shouting, “excuse me, this toilet is for handicapped patrons only” but I ignore it in the vain hope that this whole sordid affair will be over soon. Joanne bobs, and bobs but it’s no good. I can pretend to myself but I can’t lie to my cock. Maybe if I donkey punch her, or come in her eyes she’ll fuck off and leave me alone. Although knowing my luck she’d probably clean herself off and successfully inseminate herself from the tissue - fucking bitch.
It doesn’t quite get that far however, as one of the barmaids - who I failed to chat up earlier - bursts through the door, only to just as quickly turn around and vanish. I promptly zip up.
Joanne merely sits on the toilet seat, wipes her mouth, and re-applies her make-up as if it’s the solution. I walk out and close the door behind me. I know she’s shouting something but it’s all a drunken warble to me.
I walk over to Al, who’s slumped over at the bar talking to Evelyn. Jesus, when did Evelyn become so fine? She’s definitely got that sexy secretary look down to a tee tonight from her high heels, nylon tights, and black skin-tight dress to her sleek white blouse unbuttoned two from the top. The slightest movement to either side and her glorious breast is right there to see pressed in against her white satin bra. Her long, luxurious blonde hair is also down which can only mean one thing - party Evebot!
“Where were you, slut?” Al queries, although judging by her stare, Evelyn also wants to know.
“Sorry Al, I ran into one of the lads I worked with in JP and got stuck with him.”
“Was he hot? If so tell him to follow us up to Messrs.”
“I don’t really think he’s your type, Al”.
“They’re all my fucking type. Now c’mon, one more shot for the road.”
I put my hand in my pocket to grab my wallet, but before I get there Al reminds me that they’re on Deutsche.
Great, that means I’m stuck with Evebot, and I’ve already exhausted most social niceties down to the ground - the weather, the markets, even big brother.
“So Evelyn got any plans for the weekend?”
“Well it’s only Tuesday so no, not really.”
Please give me something Evelyn, anything. Thirty seconds of painstaking silence go past before she asks me if I want to share taxi with her up to the pub.
“Yeah sure”, I knew the dirty bitch was game.
“Great, I’ll just grab Rosemary.”
Rosemary. Anybody but that dyke bitch Rosemary. She makes Rosie O’Donnell look like a fluffy pink cock-slurping cheerleader, and she fucking detests me with a passion. Now don’t get me wrong, I know it’s not personal - she just hates every man.
Finally Al interjects with the shots, and I down mine before I even know what it is. I figure I need all the dutch courage I can get. Evelyn downs hers, and then leaves to look for Rosemary.
“Al, I’ve been asked to share a taxi with Evebot and Rosie. How the fuck am I going to survive that one?”
Al merely sneers and pats me on the shoulder before making a swift exit upon seeing Evelyn and Rosemary’s impending return. The sneaky, ginger cunt.
After a short drunken stumble we’re in a taxi and Messrs’-bound. The only thing slower than the taxi is the conversation. My sole consolation is that Evelyn acts as a buffer between Rosie and I in the back seat.
Rosie’s waffling on about some girl in her department as she continues to run her trucker arm up and down Evelyn’s leg. I wouldn’t let that fat, butch, mess supervise the making of a cup of tea, never mind the custody department. If ever there was a reason to ban casual Friday it’s her. Last Friday alone she came in to work in a Fruit of the Loom t-shirt, and tracksuit bottoms up to her saggy tits à la Simon Cowell. Right now her drunken leering juxtaposed with her tin tin haircut only serves to make her look more sinister. I smirk to myself as Evelyn pleads with her big, blue eyes for me to do something as Rosie’s hand rubs ever more lecherously. I wish it was my hand running up her skirt. Evelyn quickly shifts position in a vain attempt to shake her off.
“Some traffic tonight...” I say out loudly. This was met with a mere gaze of contempt by Rosie and an “it’s awful” by Evelyn, although I’m sure her statement had nothing to do with the traffic. The car crawls along but at least we’re on the Southside now. Even with the heavy rain we can’t be much more than five minutes away. I gaze out trying to lose myself in the darkness, transfixed by the rain as it lashes down like bullets, ricocheting violently off the pavement. The moment is abruptly ended as I feel a sharp elbow in my side. I turn around and Rosemary’s feeling up Evelyn’s chest, laughing about how Evelyn’s got “such a great pair”. This is more than my job’s worth.
I look at Evelyn while she squirms and grimaces, silently screaming for help. Why won’t you do something? Her tortured face begs but I already know the answer. It’s the same reason why I’ve kept my mouth shut - work.
Finally we pull up outside, and I gladly volunteer to settle up the fare - anything to get away from them. As I await my change I look out the window and Rosemary still persists in groping Evelyn under her umbrella. When I get out I become what will later no doubt turn out to be the prosecution’s star witness. I see Rosie, hand-on-tit, lean in for the kill only to be met by fresh air and the firm face of rejection. I quickly head inside and make my way to the bar. About a minute later I’m joined by Evelyn. We say nothing. I order us some shots of Jägermeister, and when they’re finished, another two. This pattern continues until the two twenties in my wallet are gone. I feel woozy and make my way to the toilet while Evelyn orders me a pint. I brush my way past the crowd - Al, John, Sparky, and possibly Joanne until I’m upstairs up at the bar. I order another shot so as not to look like a pervert, and nurse it while I get a breather. Once I’m finished I head to the toilet where I find Rosie looking over the balcony with a bud (trucker’s choice of course). Fuck! She turns around just as I’m nearly past her. Her eyes are red raw and teary. Fuck! I pretend I don’t notice, and throw out a template cliché about it being a great night, while she studies me with venom. I tell her I’m bursting to go to the jacks, and that I’ll catch her later before swiftly pacing off to the toilet.

Two hours later and I don’t give a fuck. All the matters now is Darude’s “Sandstorm” booming out of the speakers and my funky disco robot moves. The tie is off and I’m out to play. I dance with a few birds I don’t really recognize (probably from finance) before I shimmy over to Alphonsus.
“Jesus, sometimes I question why I’m gay,” Al says.
“Yeah, good look with that one, riddler. You really think you chose to be gay? That choice was taken away from you when your parents named you Alphonsus.”
“Bite me, you glorified rent boy. So, what’s the story with you and Evebot? I notice you’ve been very chummy.”
“Ah, she’s not that bad out of the office.”
“Are you for real? See the way you were dancing like a twat up there, well, that’s the way she moves, full stop. The girl’s a fucking robot.”
“Well, in that case I hope I’m the one who gets to oil her up.”
“What about Joanne?”
“Shit, I thought I saw her,” and with that, I down another shot of Jäger and bound back into the crowd.
Back up on the dance floor I strut my stuff like I own the place. I’m horny as fuck so any bird I like gets their ass slapped; If they like it, I’m all over it, if not, I was only being playful, or if worse comes to worse I point to the guy beside me.
Another three songs go by and I’m pumped. I can see Evelyn heading to the bar as Beyonce’s “Crazy in love” comes on so I weave in between the crowd until my hands are planted on her hips. I grab tightly while singing “uh oh uh oh uh oh I wanna...” she quickly turns around in shock and I do the same but shake my ass in an attempt to diffuse my sexual pass. Judging by her smile it’s worked yet hopefully I’ve planted the seed for later. We dance, drink, and dance some more, with each song getting closer. It must be late because the old rock out set is on and “sweet child of mine” is blaring. I’m close enough to Evelyn that I can smell her sweet mix of sweat and perfume. I sling my arm around her hip and gently glide her to a quieter alcove. However, once away from the noise our sexual awkwardness is almost tangible, and if I let this carry on for even one more minute longer we’ll be talking about plans for the weekend and my chance will be long gone.
I’m about to bottle it when I see Rosemary in the distance, but decide that dyke got away with worse and go for the kill. At first she’s timid but then I can feel her lips come to life and press back hard. I don’t get far before the magnitude of the situation hits her. She knows she can’t be seen with me and that Joanne is also her “frienemy” (i.e. they both hang out with the same girls so have to pretend to like each other). Nevertheless the drink’s in full effect and I can tell she needs it just as bad as me.
The rest of the night is spent playing hide and seek kiss chasing. Every time we’re not in eye shot of work we’re all over each other like two drunken teenagers.
Suddenly it’s closing time when Al throws Joanne at me. “There, she’s your problem now,” he says.
“Al, just mind her for a second,” I say and head over to Evelyn.
“Here, I’m having a party back in mine if you’re up for it?”
“Who’s going?” she asks.
“I’m not really sure...me, Joanne, Al and a few others I think. You can get a taxi back with us.”
“Sure, why not.”
We make our way outside and hail a taxi straight away. I get in first over into the far side followed by Evelyn and Joanne. Once driving it’s only a few minutes before Joanne is passed out comatose, and when I’m sure no one is looking I slip myself a Viagra on the side. I rest my hand on Evelyn’s knee in a non-sexual manner to test the water and to make sure Joanne is still out for the count. This passes with flying colours so I begin to run my hand further up the inside of her thigh, teasing her with my fingers, while kissing her gently in sharp, short intervals to avoid detection by Joanne.
Thirty minutes later and we’re finally back at my place. I wake Joanne and carry her into the house and straight through to my kitchen to get her some water. Evelyn takes this opportunity to survey the house. After taking a few sips of water Joanne asks me for a hand to the bathroom. The door is barely closed behind us when she proceeds to pull down my trousers and boxers in one fluid motion. The Viagra has well and truly kicked in as she proceeds to suck me off in her usual monotonous manner but I suppose a dry run won’t hurt. I can hear Evelyn laughing in the sitting room which can mean only one thing - she’s found the school photos of me in my dorky green private school blazer. Even from Menorca my Mam still manages to embarrass me.
“Fuck off Evelyn. It’s not my fault I’m socially better than you,” I shout.
A few more trusts and I finish up making sure to save some for later.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine, I’m just tired and so are you. C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”
After a half-hearted struggle I get her arm around my shoulder and lead her up the stairs.
As soon as she hits the bed she’s out cold before she can even take her clothes off.
I quickly return downstairs and back to Evelyn in the sitting room where she’s still meticulously studying my photos.
“My god you really were some lanky streak of piss, and what’s with the convict haircut?”
“Ah, I only let it grow and keep it spiky for work. I hate it like this. It’s too boy bandy.” With that, I pin her up against the wall to keep the momentum flowing; my hands all over her body like a frantic octopus as I kiss her in short, passionate bursts -on the lips, cheeks, and neck. She comes back with just as much fury, biting my bottom lip and grabbing my ass. I return the serve by ripping open her shirt and pulling down her bra to cup her perky tits. She jumps up into my lap and straddles me hard, making her heels click in the process. I kiss her desperately. I can’t get enough of her-only stopping to draw fast deep breaths. I throw her on the couch and pull down her skirt to reveal a nasty pink thong. I always knew she was a dirty bitch. However I don’t stop to admire; I merely fling it off like all its predecessors. Straight away I dive in and eat her out, lapping it up furiously like some kind of perverted cat drinking milk, until I find my rhythm and commence my alphabet party piece of spelling out my favourite players with my tongue; Fowler 23, Sami Hyypia, and fuck you Rosie. It’s not long before she’s really into it as I feel her pussy pulsate all over my face. It begins with a few “ooh’s” and “Ahs” before graduating into “Oh yeah that’s right, now another finger,” and “eat my cunt you dirty boy, oh yes,” finally culminating in “C’mon, fist me you dirty bitch I want to feel you.” I duly oblige but for the love of god, can’t get into it. It feels so weird and more akin to a doctor searching for a baby. I don’t really know what to do so I just wriggle my arm and hope for the best. I’m close to dozing off when she rubs her twat with her palm before stuffing her fingers down my throat “Mmm, doesn’t that taste good my dirty bitch?” she says. With that I whip off my trousers and boxers and plunge my cock deep inside her-not out of lust or want but out of fear for what she might do next.
I try and try but I can’t get into it. It’s like throwing a sausage up Grafton Street and the more I thrust the weirder it gets with Sexbot continuously slapping me or grabbing my throat while demanding “is that all you got!!?” I am literally living my very own anti-porn commercial. I can’t take it anymore so I resort to feigning cramp to end my crazy sexploitation nightmare.
“What’s wrong faggot? Never fucked a real woman before? Why don’t you go out to the kitchen and get me something long and hard to finish the job?” The moment is gone and I am now well and truly sober. What the hell is wrong with this woman? Doesn’t she know we’ve still got to see each other in work tomorrow? I’m about to reply when she grabs my cock and starts jerking me violently. Fuck it, I can’t handle this sexorcist. She probably has a nasty 15” inch black cock in her handbag with my asses’ name on it. It’s time to pull out the Joanne card.
“Sorry Evelyn, it’s not you, it’s...it’s just I don’t feel right with Joanne only upstairs.”
Please don’t beat me to death with your rubber cock.
“Joanne? Ha! Joanne’s not a real woman; she can’t satisfy you like I can. C’mon Tony, you can come all over my tits and I’ll eat every last drop.”
“Evelyn I can’t, it’s Joanne,” I say as I slowly begin to put on my pants.
“Okay,” and with that returned the stern familiar face of Evebot I knew only too well. I scurry out of the room as fast as I can and crawl into bed beside Joanne. I’m shattered but my heart keeps racing and I lay awake in the knowledge that of all my vices tonight, sleep will not be one of them.

We’re on our way into work in a taxi. Joanne’s still too hung-over to engage in pleasantries so that void is filled by Evebot. How the hell can she make inane small talk after what we just did? Every word out of her mouth now takes on a dirty twist. She could well be talking about the weather but all I see is her porn star pouting lips and illicit tongue mouthing “cock,” “come,” and “what’s wrong, faggot?”
Judging by the stare and raising of her eyebrows I’ve obviously missed my cue to respond.
“Yeah I suppose so”, I say hoping I’ve fired off a sufficient template to suffice whatever it is she queried.
It seems to have done the trick as she shifts focus to Joanne and her hangover. My attention turns to my legs as I rub them manically in a vain attempt to ease my cramps. The side affects of last night’s Viagra and drink combo are now in full swing. I hope I still have those magnesium tablets in my desk or I’m fucked.
Eventually we arrive in the office and I head straight for my desk drawer in search of a hit. There’s no magnesium tablet but I do find some Nurofen cold and flu tablets which will have to do the trick. A couple minutes after I’ve necked them, Evebot takes her seat beside me, and ignores me with such aplomb that I begin to ask myself did last night really happen? After a sweaty, shaky initial start the Nurofen kick in and take the edge off, leaving me comfortably numb. An hour later I decide to stretch my legs to help with the cramps, and head over to the water cooler where I run into Rosie. Straight away social niceties are discarded and she goes straight for the kill.
“If you tell anyone about last night I’ll have you up in front of HR before you have a chance to blink.” she says.
“and good morning to you too, Rosemary.”
“Don’t get smart with me. I’m only going to say this once, so you’ve been warned.”
I smile and raise my cup of water.
“I mean it,” she says, and turns and walks away.
I immediately return to my desk and spend the rest of my day mailing everyone I know in AIG crowbarring in last nights events at every opportunity.