:: Article

Hungry dogs, dirty puddings

By Clare Kirwan.

She was the kind if girl who wasn’t fussy where her shiraz came from, the kind a barge man wouldn’t touch with his pole. But he’d got to the point where he was so hungry for someone to touch him this was no longer important.

He found her, not in the gutter but wavering on the edge of it, with thin legs perched on ridiculous heels that made her unsteady as a young bird. He preferred more flesh on a woman – even her laughter was the brittle kind, but better than the eternal silence of his apartment.

She complained he didn’t have a TV or any cigarettes. But she said she liked his music, was happy to take a tour through his collection of single malts and let him fuck her. Hungry dogs, his mother used to say, will eat dirty puddings.

It was just difficult to tell at this stage who was the dog and who the pudding.

Clare Kirwan is from Wirral. Her stories have been published in Dark Tales, Contrary, Flax, Paraxis, Short, Fast and Deadly and The Binnacle. By day she is a library assistant – like Batgirl.

First published in 3:AM Magazine: Thursday, April 11th, 2013.