Posted Sun Dec 24, 2017 | 512 Words | Tagged story chav

belfastchavlads:

Fuck yea mate.

You envied the lads wearing TNs and their Nike tracksuits. Nike was on your mind quite often. How you wish you would look sometime as good as them wearing them. All these wishes and thoughts, yet you never put any of them into action.

Then Christmas Day and you were finally able to drive down and only deal with your family for the one day before driving back home on the evening. Most of the drive back home was uneventful, being the usual drive down the long A road until the car suddenly displayed a warning light and luckily you could take the next exit and find somewhere to stop.

Trying to find where you were going, after your phone had died, you ended up in a council estate. You decided to brave it and enter the rowdy pub in order to try and find someone who could at least try and help you. Seeing a few outside, you could tell you really didn’t fit in.

One of them piped up when you came in. You dreaded what was going to happen especially when you couldn’t keep an eye off his TNs nor his Nike tracksuit.

He offered you a pint, and you just accepted, fearing the worst. Drinking it, trying to enjoy your fate a little, you felt slightly lighter. It must have been strong. After a little while, he seemed quite friendly and you got on quite well. A football game was on which was catching your eye surprisingly, must have been the cheap lager getting to you.

He took you to his home after a couple pints. They were really getting to you. When he got in, he let you on the sofa and then went upstairs. He mentioned something but you barely caught it.

He returned with an orange box with the Nike tick on it. “Happy Crimbo mate,” he jeered as he pushed it into your lap. Opening the box you saw a pair of TNs, the pair you wanted the most.

In a rush of excitement you threw your old trainers off, not really caring where they ended up and slipping your socked feet into the comfort of the fresh TNs. Tying them onto your feet, they felt right. Even a small cocky smile escaping your face. You couldn’t help it really.

You thanked your mate and you managed to fall asleep on his sofa. Waking up the next day, you felt refreshed. Your mate woke you up and said summert about a letter about your apprenticeship as a roofer.

He also took a picture of you and showed you. You wondered why, until he showed you. You were wearing a set of Nike trackies. Nike from head to toe. Also you fit them perfectly. Fuck, you knew you looked fit as fuck.

Getting up, you looked at the letter. The name seemed slightly off, but your mate just said it was fine and you needed to do some hard graft. He was right and you couldn’t wait for your first day.