THE VILLAGE : Part 42 - Honesty, Integrity And Idealism Are The Quickest And The Best Ways To Go Bankrupt.

This is a picture of Rock in Cornwall. If you look very carefully you might possibly find a house that isn't a second home and costs less than half a million. I'm sure there must be one in there somewhere. I'm just kidding you've got no chance. I once stopped here to look at a map and got moved on by the police for reasons. They threatened to arrest me but didn't state what the charges they'd have to invent would be. So I left. A few weeks later my car was broken into and pretty much striped of everything of value. The police didn't bother to investigate. They told me to move it or it would be towed at my expense. The police have certain priorities. Prevent anyone reading a map near a rich persons unoccupied second, third or fourth home. Then move on to the lesser offences like robbery, rape and murder. Fuck me I wish I was making this up.

(The copyright for this image is the property of Visit Cornwall)

The skeet shoot went far better than Michael expected. Perhaps because his expectations were always so low that this was a common occurrence. Universal actually. Nobody shot him, either accidentally or for a laugh. Granted he came a distant fourth in the competitive parts. Darcy was third but only a couple of clay's behind Doidge, with the winner being Doogie obviously. He was one of those annoying people who were good at everything they tried. Half way through the competition Doogie had offered Michael a stick, suggesting he might be far more successful with that than a gun. Being the butt of everyone's joke's can be a very powerful position. It was one Michael was familiar with and had used to his advantage. Everyone dismisses you. Their chief occupation becomes making fun of you. They refuse to accept that you could be capable of anything like putting one over on them. So they completely missed it if you did. In this instance Michael observed the interactions between Darcy and the Aussie. His jibe about Darcy having feelings towards her date had hit a nerve. Why was that? Eventually he reached the conclusion they both had similar characters. God knew how but after only brief interaction they'd become friends. More like brother and sister. Darcy actually seemed to be proud of his achievements, yet she ribbed him continuously.

"So what's the story behind Big Jeff." She asked.
"What do you mean?" Doogie replied.
"Well Tall Girl is called that because she's taller than you. So is Big Jeff's name intended to be ironic or is it because of some other reason?"
The dirty smirk on her face indicated what she was aiming at. Doogie feigned ignorance.
"I've still got no idea what you mean."
"Yes you do. I'm asking if Big Jeff is a tripod."
The Aussie chuckled heartily.
"Still not getting it." He lied.
"You want me to come right out with it don't you?"
"Yes. I'm a dumb man who has no understanding of subtext. You will have to spell it out."
Why she looked around and spoke so quietly was impossible to say. There were only four people there and they'd all heard every word.
"Is he called Big Jeff because he's got a huge penis."
The mock outrage of all three of the men didn't fool her in the least.
"Oh wow, that's so unnecessary." Doogie retorted. "Reducing a man to a faceless appendage. That's sexist as well as being an invasion of privacy. How would you feel if men talked about you like that behind your back?"
"I wouldn't mind. The size of my penis is public knowledge. If people want to talk about it, let them. I don't care. Come on. Please tell me why he's called Big Jeff."
Everybody was enjoying themselves far too much for Michael's liking. He knew from experience that Doogie was about to embark on a long winded tall tale. As the Aussie drew breath he jumped in.
"It's because when he first came here he introduced himself as Jeff. Then he told us that people called him Big Jeff. We accepted that and didn't demand he drop his pants so we could check his wedding tackle out."
"Aw mate, you really know how to stamp on a skit don't ya. It's true Darce. Bloody boring but true."
Her somber face lit up.
"Yes, but why did people call him Big Jeff. If it's ironically I'll be disappointed."
Doogie gave her an appraising look.
"Oh I see. You wouldn't by any chance have more than a passing interest in his trouser snake would you?"
She became quite coy.
"I might. He's intriguing. Good looking, in a way. He's intelligent, funny and he's got a respectable, responsible, well paid job. Which puts him way above half the guys I've dated, despite his short stature. Let's just say I'm curious and as far as I can tell he's the most eligible bachelor in the area.... Please tell me he isn't seeing anyone."
"Not that I'm aware of." Michael stated. "And thanks for dismissing all of us so casually. There was me thinking that a librarian was the pinnacle of every woman's aspirations. I'm deeply wounded."
"You will be in a minute. Pass me the shotgun Doogie."
"Delighted to do so Darce. I'll even load it for you."
Doogie slid two cartridges in and closed the breech.
"I'm walking away now." Michael raised his hands then turned. "Make it quick."
Darcy scowled at him as he left.
"What's got into him all of a sudden?"
"He's been funny like that ever since he got shot in the back." Doidge answered.
Doogie shook his head warningly then hastily changed the subject.
"I could give you a formal introduction to Jeff if you like. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to tell you the origin of his nickname. Is it a nickname?"
"No back up." Darcy insisted. "Doidge, what did you mean?"
The young man kicked his feet in the grass.
"Nothing. I gets confused sometimes. Thought we was talking about someone else I know. I'll start packing up shall I."
"What? So neither of you is going to explain."
"I'd be careful Darce." Doogie cautioned. "Otherwise somebody might start asking questions about your history."
"Is that a threat?"
The two men looked at one another nonplussed.
"No. It's some good advice." Doogie explained. "We've all got pasts we'd rather not dig up. Even Big Jeff has a history. Why else do you think most people come here?

Yes, the shooting had not been an unpleasant experience. It hadn't been pleasant either. Order had been restored to Michael's bubble of a world. Blandness was extremely underrated, like mediocrity. They both had unjustifiably bad reputations for some reason. The world could do with a lot more boredom in his opinion, which was the only one that mattered inside that bubble. He and Sophie were rubbing along kind of alright. Luke would be back from work by now. The rent was overdue by two days. It would be short again. He'd have another golden opportunity to berate his lodger. Michael's fingers were itching to bring out his little black book listing all the money Luke owed him. Perhaps, for a change, he'd update him on the running total and even how much interest it was attracting. Oh yes. Oh fuck, he very nearly broke into a skip, he'd bought some Cumberland sausages. Luke didn't like the sight of them. Presumably they were far too phallic for the devout Christian to tolerate. It didn't matter. They'd upset him or at the very least make Luke feel uncomfortable. There was no justice in the world. Thank God. Michael let himself in after checking that Luke's car was there. Striding into the kitchen, despite his sore muscles, he confidently placed his weapon in its cabinet. Only to discover Luke was smiling blissfully.

"Awwww shit. More bad news." He lamented.
"No. I've got all this months rent. All of it. Count it."
Luke handed over the wedge of cash. Michael carelessly shoved it into his pocket without a look.
"Aren't you going to count it? It's all there." Luke chirruped.
"No. My heart couldn't take it. How on earth is this possible? Why does fate always conspire against me? I'm not a good or a nice person. In fact I'm horrible and despicable. Why do bad things always happen to me? Good people earn their reward in heaven. It's people like me that should be living the dream while they're still alive. Unless... You took my advice didn't you? Please tell me you took my advice."
"Ummmm which advice?"
"Remember? When you were whining about not having any money and having to live off the scraps I'd allow you to eat. I suggested you found an elderly relative with a bit of cash and held a pillow over their face until an inheritance arrived. It was foolproof. I didn't know you had it in you. Well done. I bet they put up a bit of a struggle didn't they. No need to tell me who it was. So just describe exactly what it felt like as you smothered them. Did you sneak up on them while they were asleep or could you see the terror in their eyes as you forcefully suffocated their old bones to death?"
"I never know when you're being serious."
"Oh I'm serious. Deadly serious. Right if you didn't kill someone I'm going to need you to come up with something equally disturbing. I hope it wasn't an elderly relative dying peacefully in their sleep."
"It's funny...
"Unless it involves you killing an old person I can assure you it isn't."
"Well it's weird then."
"The only thing that's keeping me from loosing my shit right now is the image of you crying and sobbing as you crush the life out of your great aunt Mabel. If you take that away from me I've got nothing."
"I haven't got a great aunt Mabel. It's a combination of things. First I got a back dated raise that I should have had months ago, then....
"You became desperate, lost your tenuous grip on reality and went on a killing spree, butchering half your blood relatives."
"No..."
"Well make something up then."
"I'm not that imaginative. You see then I met Sophie at the village store first thing this morning, she was buying starch for some reason. I didn't know they still sold it. Well there I was paying the money into Rachel's account when a scratch card fell out of my pocket or wallet. I've never bought one in my life, that's what's so funny. It's a form of gambling you see. First of all I thought it was there to tempt me into sin, only Sophie and Mrs Rendell said I should scratch it off anyway. I didn't have a coin on me so I waited until I got back in the car. There were no coins there either. Then I thought I could use my car key to scratch it. It was pretty slow work I can tell you. I've won twenty thousand I think."
"Show me the scratch card." Michael held out his hand.
"I can't. There was a free phone number on it to call if you won a prize. So I called it when I reached Mrs Cooke's, she's bedridden since her stroke. It was all automated so I just keyed in my account details and that was it. The voice said I had to destroy the scratch card immediately to prevent potential fraud."
There was still a sliver of hope that would hopefully destroy Luke's well deserved joy.
"Please let it be a scam, please let it be a scam. Do you have online banking?"
"Yes. I have to do everything over the internet. The nearest branch is over twenty miles away these days."
"Oh joy, oh joy, oh joy. What would you say if I asked you to check your account right now?"
Michael had more than just his fingers crossed. This might turn out to be the best day of his life so far. It didn't have a lot of competition.
"I already have. The money went in within an hour of me making the call. I've never had that much in my life before. I've reinstated my debits for Save the Children and Oxfam and now I'm sponsoring two more children in Africa."
"Pissing it away when you could be investing it in booze and hookers. There's still hope I suppose. Honesty, integrity and idealism are the quickest and the best and ways to go bankrupt. There's no way this isn't a setup. But who would do it? Sophie is capable of pulling something like this off but where would she get the 20K? They don't pay out like that. There's always a process you have to go through. No idea what it is, but it would be quite complex." He drummed his fingers on the table while staring into nothing. "If you'll excuse me for one moment, there's something I have to do."
Michael stepped outside and closed the front door. Then he screamed at the top of his lungs. An animalistic outpouring of rage. A few hundred yards away across the fields. Doogie looked at Doidge questioningly.
"Nothing to worry about." Doidge declared.

Back at the house Michael was going through what psychologists would call the grieving process. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. All processed through the one howl. Apart from acceptance that is. There was no way he'd accept this. Someone had gifted that religious twat with more money than he'd ever had before. It was just enough for him to pay off everything he owed Michael. That couldn't be coincidence surely? Michael wouldn't accept it even if it were offered. He'd insist Luke saved it as a possible deposit for a house. A home that Michael could force into repossession. Who though? What twisted individual would do such a kind and decent thing to someone who fully deserved it? This wasn't how things functioned. The rich became richer and the poor, poorer. The strong did as they wished and the weak suffered. Whoever it was he would find them. He had no idea what he'd do but he'd find them. Someone had done a kind thing and in the process they'd made him their mortal enemy. Although that sounded like a full on, full time thing requiring dedication and effort. A part time antagonist with commitment issues would have to do. If only he had Doogie's stick now those clay's would be fucked.