Sunday
His mouth was raw, his head felt like it was in a vice and his eyes….his eyes weren’t working properly Phil decided as he awoke with a massive hangover. He couldn’t quite recall how he had gotten home, he certainly hadn’t managed to get undressed he realised. Stripping down to his pants he dragged himself across the landing to the bathroom and gratefully showered. But even though his head felt a little clearer his eyes were still playing tricks on him, bits of the wall or floor seemed to have lost all their colour so that everything had a blotchy appearance. Back in his room he pulled on a clean tee shirt and jeans and found his sunglasses to hang in the front of the shirt before going downstairs.
“T’ walkin’ dead.” His Dad said caustically as he looked up from his Sunday paper.
Phil favoured him with an equally dismissive smile, they were having one of their cool periods, him and his Dad.
“Any coffee?” He asked his Mum as she came into the kitchen at the sound of voices.
“Sit down luv, I’ll make fresh.”
While she was busy Phil looked at both his parents surreptitiously, no loss of colour there, there never had been much colour about them. But beyond his Mum the blue tiles faded to grey and then back to blue again. The front page of the News of the World featured a picture of Posh but it was black and white under the red banner and the red seemed to be slowly leeching away as he looked at it.
“There you go luv. Tha awrait luv? Tha’s looking pale.” His Mum said as she put the coffee before him.
“Thanks, just slept bad, t’ heat.” Phil muttered and wondered if he was losing his colour too.
Raising the coffee he saw his flesh was still the light tan colour but the coffee was just sludge grey brown and it tasted just as bland. Maybe it was just the hangover he thought; he had gotten way more drunk than usual last night and WKD did leave a very nasty morning after sensation.

He wandered out into the garden with the mug and slumped down on the little bench. The morning sun was painfully bright and without thinking about it he put his sunglasses on. Suddenly his little sister was running across the lawn in front of him chasing a ball, clearly shouting but making no sound, he jerked the glasses up, the garden was empty.
He nearly dropped his coffee and his hand shook so much that most of it sloshed over his hand, he didn’t even notice it.
Standing up he swayed perilously, his sense of balance seeming to desert him, everything around him looked double and fuzzy. He reached out with his free hand for the solid stability of the house wall but his hand sank through the first brick boundary and only fetched up against the second. He snatched his hand back as though it had been burnt. With a shaking hand he raised his sunglasses and squinted at the wall, no fuzziness now, just sharply defined bricks. Gingerly he touched them again. Just warm red brown bricks.
“Shittin’ shades.” He muttered hanging them from his collar. “Mus’ be busted or somethin’.”
He took a long drink of the coffee and decided to go back to the shop to get them changed as soon as possible; they had cost a packet, special lens coatings, latest designer gear.
“Shite.” He muttered and finished what remained of the coffee before drifting back into the house.
Here could hear the TV and went into the lounge where Clare was staring at the cartoons.
“Not playin’ owt?” He asked her casually, she didn’t usually watch TV on a sunny day.
“No.” She answered monosyllabically.
He shrugged, he wasn’t going to get much of conversation out of her and his Dad would only grouse and grumble over the paper, he needed to be away. The house was already warm and stuffy so he sloped out onto the street and began to drift towards the paper shop. He needed a phone top up and he could get a paper and some Redbull then sit in the shade somewhere until lunch came round.
Slouching along the street he took sips from the can and slowly felt it begin to work on his head, dispelling some of the hangovers worst effects. He opened the paper at the back pages and read the report on the match, their analysis was pretty much the same as his, ‘Blades Blunt’ shouted the banner, and their abysmal performance was dissected line by line. He leafed forward looking for something of interest, some Hollywood tart going off the rails again, a C list celeb caught knickerless by the ever prying long lenses of the paparazzi, cynical snipes at politicians as they espoused a rule and broke the same themselves. Today the news was all grey and lifeless, a repackage of last weekends stale offerings, even the girls with their tops off seemed to have no sparkle, smiling with their teeth but not their bodies. He abandoned the paper on the park bench when it all became just too tedious to read any further.

“Shite.” He murmured to himself, another boring Sunday.
“Hey Phil.”
The call from behind him was a welcome relief.
“Cassy.” He grinned at her and two other mates in tow. Nev and Graham.
“Where’s tha gowin’?” Cassy asked him.
“No place, jus’ about.” He shrugged.
Her phone bleated and she eagerly flicked it open to read the text.
“Sharon’s gowin’ t’cinema this afternoon, fancy that?” She asked her friends.
“Wasson?” Graham asked her lazily. “Seen most.”
“Dunno.” She responded and bent over the phone to send a text.
Her stubby fingers moved quickly over the keys and sent the text off.
They had continued walking all the while in the almost deserted park, just a man and his dog over by the boundary hedge.
“Where’s everybody taday?” Phil asked no one in particular.
“Dunno.” Nev offered listlessly. “Lookin’ for someone?”
“Al.”
“Loser.” Nev grimaced at the name.
“He ent.” Phil retorted with a touch of anger.
“Is. Cops bin roun’ his house more times than binmen.”
Phil didn’t like to hear of his mates transgressions but over the last year there was no denying that he had had several run ins with the cops over his drunken behaviour and he did always seem to have a bottle of booze in his hand these days.
“They got it in for ‘im.” Phil said sullenly.
“Bollocks.”
“S’rait, cos ees coloured!” Phil stated hotly.
Nev frowned but didn’t reply, the local coppers had been pulling over Asians like they were all related to Bin Laden since the London bombings.
“Dazzle.” Cassy said as her mate returned her text, the argument having totally passed her by.
“Any good?” Phil asked her.
“Dunno.” She said brightly. “Hav’ tah see it dun I?”
“Arait.” Phil agreed easily.

There was a sound of glass breaking and they all looked up to see a group over by the play area laughing and messing around, cans and bottles in hand.
“Hey.” Phil said eying the drinks. “Shall us go o’er?”
“Thas Rich n’ them.” Graham said.
They were an older gang, mostly seventeen, and known for their frequently loutish behaviour, but Phil had cadged a few drinks off them when they were just in high spirits before getting mean drunk.
“No.” Cassy said in a small voice. “Lets go.”
She turned around and began to walk away quickly.
“Wass ‘er problem?” Phil muttered.
“Yuh comin’?” Cassy demanded over her shoulder.
“Iss jus’ Rich.” Phil protested.
“Stay then!” She retorted tearfully and walked away.
Nev and Graham were already following her lead and Phil quickly fell in beside them.
“Wass t’problem?” He asked quietly jerking his head at Cassy’s back.
“Yuh din ‘ear?” Graham questioned him disbelievingly.
“Wha?”
“Rich n them mugged Cass for ‘er phone. Threatened t’do ‘er if she reported it.”
“But she said as she lost it.” Phil protested.
“So Rich woun’t do ‘er yuh dickead.” Nev told him.
Phil slouched his hands deeper into his pockets, how was he to blame if the silly cow didn’t tell the truth? He furtively glanced round to see if Rich had spotted him or if he could see Al in their accustomed drinking spot. The gang were still happily play fighting and the little knoll was unoccupied; he tagged along with Nev and Graham as they caught up with Cassy. Graham put a friendly arm round her and gave her a hug so that she cheered up while Phil played invisible man until they were on the tram and well away from the source of her discomfort.
They had a burger for lunch before watching the movie and then spending the rest of the afternoon in town. He returned home feeling properly chilled and went to his room rather than face the inevitable cross examination by his parents.