The No.45

So, one morning this guy turns up at my front door asking if I want to buy a No.45. I says tae the guy, straight off, what the hell am I going tae dae with a No.45, gesturing to my crumpled shirt and my jeans that’ve got all kinda stains on ‘em. It’s half ten in the morn’ and he’s askin’ if I want a No.45 – can you believe that? Anyway I goes to the guy you no got any 60s or that, maybe even some 23s. The wee guy just shuffles his feet and says naw, I’ve only got No.45s the day. So, I’m stood there thinkin’ what an asshole this guy is, turnin’ up at my door with only a No.45 in his jacket pocket. How many you got I says to him, pullin’ a cig out my trousers and straightenin’ it out – businessman like y’know. By this time my wife’s hollerin’ at me tellin’ me to buy the fucking No.45s or tell the guy tae fuck off. I light my cigarette and shrug in some ways of an apology to the guy, heck I’ve no even got my socks on yet and this is aw kickin’ off. He looks at his watch and says look man you gonnae buy the No.45s or no, I’ve got a load eh houses tae get roond. I blow the cigarette smoke out my mouth and it just hangs there in the wee No Man’s Land between us. Fuckin’ No.45, I’m thinkin’ tae maself. How many you got I says to him, forgetful old bastard ain’t I? Fifteen he says and starts pullin’ them out his pocket. Alright, I say, gimme three. So I close the door and go back in the house, chuckin’ the No.45’s to my wife. She rips ‘em open and does a wee autopsy on the ‘hings. Then I’m thinkin’ aw fuck what now ‘cos I can see she’s about to go mental. Look at this you daft bastard, she says. Chuckin’ the No.45s back at me, there No.42s, no 45s! She screams, coming at me wi’ her cat claws. Like I says before, I’m no a violent guy, but by this point there’s been this guy comin’ to the door sellin’ his wee No.45s that were actually No.42s and now my mental wifey’s ballin’ at me and mate, I’ve no even got ma socks on. I just cracked and thought fuck it, tae hell wi.’ them aw. So I smacked her one in the puss. She goes doon and cracks her heed aff the coffee table likes. Game over, deed as a fish. I still canny believe I did it, kin what a mean? 

“Ok…Ok, hold up for a moment.” The lawyer said chewing thoughtfully on his pencil, reviewing his notes. He looks up finally. “So, what exactly is a No.45?” 

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