My legs are wobbling! My eyes are glazed. A terrible sense of shame has crawled over me like a second skin. How could I have done it? That Thing I said I would never do! If only I could turn the clock back! But I know its too late. I will have to bear this burden for the rest of my miserable life. I was going to save this for Confession but I will confide in you as friends. I used a Debit card in the Newsagents.
When they started taking cards, these small shops, I swore I would never be a part of it. Small shops should have cash only - or a slate like with papers and that - because they're not frackin' Tescos. Why can't people have enough money for their fags and chocolates and that. Why should they live by a swipe of a card?
I mean I have done it at Fatso's occasionally. I have bought a few groceries on the credit card. But He doesn't count. Fatso is like a cheap whore. One of those really - and I mean really - cheap types you pick up at a place with sawdust on the floor. You can defile him all you like and forget him afterwards. It really doesn't matter how much you misuse him. He likes it.
But not my Hallowed newsagent next door. Who I treat with such reverence and respect. Leaving Him pure and untouched. Keeping it traditional with fivers and loose change. I mean i've run out of fags before - of course I have. But when your Oyster cards' dried up too - it can push a person with the most purest principles over the edge.
When I put my card in His rented pin machine, I felt another side of me - the dirty side - had been revealed and my hands shook as I put in the Pin number. I looked at him with tears in my eyes. Will He ever forgive me? I have treated him on the same level as that scrubber Fatso.
If I didn't know better, I would have actually said that the Newsagent rather enjoyed this degrading act. In fact there was a big smile on his face throughout the whole perverted and filthy procedure. It just shows you never know anyone!
The Cat bit my foot.