Tuesday, 26 October 2010

Idiot boy and the Paranoid Persona- Chapter 3

Rob made his way back home. He smelt of bleach and stale toilets but at the Charity Muggers on the high street didn't hassle him so there's an upside to every situation. He reached the Victorian terrace which housed his flat, there was something familiar about the rubbish and debris scattered on the lawn, made his way through the main front door and fumbled for his keys as he got to his flat.
The key didn't fit. Another thing for his absent landlord to fix. Rob tried the key again but it just wouldn't budge. It was almost as if it was the wrong key. He pulled the key out of the lock with great effort and saw the note on his front door. He opened it and scanned the contents.


This couldn't be right! The door to the opposite flat opened and a ragged, old man wearing only a pair of hideously stained underpants stoop in the aperture
"Have you got one of these as well Albert?" asked Rob
"Nope, just you" replied Albert matter of factly. Rob looked down at the eviction notice in the hope that the answer to his problems might be revealed to him. It wasn't
"What have I done to deserve this?"
"I heard something about non payment of rent" said Albert
Rob was indignant, "I paid last months!"
"I think it was the 5 months previous that he had issue with"
Albert really wasn't helping the situation. Rob needed to gather his thoughts. He couldn't do that with Homer Simpson's fatter brother standing over him in his underwear. Suddenly the clarity of the situation hit him
"My stuff! It's still in the flat. My whole life was in there". Rob really had rock bottom. Suddenly, Albert threw him an unexpected lifeline
"They took your stuff out, said they were going to store it somewhere"
Rob brightened slightly. "Where did they put it?". Albert fumbled in his underpants and handed Rob the scrawled note with the directions of the storage facilities on it. Rob smiled politely and started following the instructions. 

Ten seconds later, Rob found himself on the front lawn surrounded by the remnants of his stuff. It wasn't the biggest front garden the world but there still seemed to be a lot of space left. Surely he owned more than this? He did a quick stock check. One skateboard? Check. One mannequin dressed as Noddy Holder? Check. 3 boxes of CD's? Check. Was he was wearing all the clothes he owned? Check. All present and correct. Oh well, at least there wouldn't be much to carry. The window which overlooked the lawn slid open and Albert poked his head out
"I used some of spare pants to blow my nose. Do want them back?"
"Keep em mate" replied Rob. "My treat"

Rob piled the CD's and Noddy Holder onto his skateboard and started walking. Where was he going to live now? He pulled his phone out and started to scour his contacts list. Simon! Of course, his old mate Simon would put him up. He pressed the dial button and waited for the voice of his saviour
"Simon! It's Rob Saunders here, we met at that Village People Tribute act concert in 1999? Yeah, long time no speaky. Listen I've just been evicted from my flat and I remember you saying that if I ever needed a place to stay, I could crash at yours so I'm on my over if that's OK"

Good old faithful Simon, he wouldn't let Rob down. He did. Rob took in the news as it filtered through
 his brain. "When did you move?" asked Rob slightly plaintively "Oh right, well I'm sure I could still get there if.........". Rob listened to the dismembered voice again. "A child? Great. How old is he? 8? Well that's great. I don't mind sharing with him if....." The dial tone penetrated though his head like a drill of rejection. What was Simon's problem? People shouldn't make these offers if they have no intention of honouring them. Rob scrolled through his contacts list again. John! Of course, Johnny boy will put him up! Rob pressed the dial button
"John, it's Rob here...................Hello? Hello?"................

The car came out of nowhere. It hurtled round the corner to be confronted by an idiot talking on his phone pulling what looked like Noddy Holder on a skateboard. The driver slammed the brakes on and gave his horn a blast at the same time. The idiot just stared at him and gave a 'what's your problem?' look then went into the pub he was heading to. God Bill hated stupid people! Why didn't people pay more attention? Bloody idiots. Bill put his car into gear and was just about to start off again when he froze. A black cat had wandered onto the road and was now sitting right in front of his car, staring at Bill. Bill stared back. All that needed to happen was for a tumble weed to roll past and for there to be a blast of Ennio Morricone and the scene would have been complete. Bill started to rack his brain. Was a black cat lucky or unlucky? As he was pondering this, a single magpie landed on the bonnet of his car. That was definitely bad news! Bill sat in his car, crippled by superstition and worry while the crescendo of car horns built up behind him. He had to do something, he couldn't spend the rest of his life in his car. He had a business to run. Come on man, pull yourself together. There just two animals, no harm will come to you. Bill kept repeating that mantra but still nothing happened. The invisible force still clamped him to the car seat as the drivers behind him got more and more irate. Bill revved the engine all the way into the red zone. The engine screamed it's protest but the cat and the magpie just carried on sitting there looking at Bill with disdain. That's it, he'd had enough. He was going to get out of the car and shoo them off! Nothing bad was going to happen, it was all just superstitious nonsense! Bill threw the door open and saw it get ripped clean off it's hinges by the lorry sped past, fed up with waiting. Bill sat there for a moment. At least lightening won't strike twice, he thought. He got out the car and was thrown back over the bonnet as he narrowly avoided getting hit by another car. Bill stumbled backwards onto the pavement, managed to avoid all the cracks, slipped on a banana skin, went under a ladder and backwards into the outside display of "Clives Hall of Mirrors", smashing every single one as he did so. Bill was definitely going to pay for that! Bill took a sachet of salt out of his top pocket, put some in his hand and hurled it over his left shoulder. The grains landed in the eyes of the window cleaner whose ladder Bill had stumbled under. The window cleaner staggered blindly into the road where there was a screech of brakes and a sickening thud. Bill counted his blessings and tried to sidle off unoticed

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