Author Archives: 99Chris

High Volume

When I was fifteen, I drank seven cans of beer and two litres of cider at a house party and I was absolutely fine. Then I had a shot of Malibu and I wasn’t. A long, trembling belch alerted my … Continue reading

Posted in Horror | 1 Comment

Post-Digestive Guilt

Today, I ate a huge burger for lunch. It was a work of art; a pile of steak sandwiched between two patties and a load of onion rings, like a massive wolf had spewed a half-digested cow onto two slices … Continue reading

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Three Bronx Cheers

When I was eight, I got a whoopee cushion for Christmas. When school restarted, I sneaked it in with me, and concealed it, badly, under Miss Steadman’s chair cushion at lunch. Class began, and in walked Miss Steadman. She looked … Continue reading

Posted in Coming of Age | 1 Comment

Flying Squirrel

There are many things to do with a dead squirrel but my absolute favourite is to conceal yourself on a high, wooded bank above the road before gently lobbing it onto the front of a moving car. If you get … Continue reading

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Cross Dressing Trainers

When I was twelve, I got some new trainers for school. They were HiTecs – all the rage – but not the lumpy basketball boot type. These were understated and minimalist: black with the tiniest trim of neon pink down … Continue reading

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Conkered

One day, on the school field, we had the best conker fight ever. Not two boys with conkers on strings – I mean thirty or so fifteen-year olds hurling conkers, sticks and the occasional stone at each other in a … Continue reading

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Canoeing

Today I woke up with a vile hangover; one of those mean vodka ones that feel like a knife embedded behind the eyes. We were by the Shenandoah River, so I staggered into the sunlight, loaded my puppy and my … Continue reading

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Dogged

To give up smoking, I’ve taken up running. Twice a week, I drag myself out of bed an hour early, fill a water bottle and head down to the overgrown football pitch near my house, where I spend half an … Continue reading

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For Sale

As youngsters, we used to light the corners of For Sale signs. They’d burn incredibly slowly with a tiny flame, and drip little bits of liquid plastic that made zipping noises as they fell. Now, they make the signs out … Continue reading

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Midnight

When we were kids, we used to camp out in the garden at night. At two in the morning, we would creep out and walk a mile to the main road, and lie down in it. In the daytime, this … Continue reading

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