driving through strange parts of town, unfamiliar places, odd environs with crazy angles and roads that seem to have no beginning or end. I've noticed the people are gnarled and have crooked sticks, and curly nails, and gimlet eyes. Oh yeah, and they're all named Caleb and say things to me in country voices, like "You be not from round here." Even whilst I'm filling up with petrol. It can make a person jump. I asked one the directions to Misery Grove and was told, "You don't want to be going there, to Misery Grove. Oh no." Stroking his stubbled chin he cackled to no one in particular, "Only fools go to Misery Grove." Then he laughed until a choking lump of phlegm dropped him like a shot elephant. Through the rear view mirror his receding figure heaved and spluttered, arm outstretched towards me, a rictus of pain scarring his deeply troubled face. Two miles later when I stopped on Misery Grove his tobacco pouch fell from the car roof. Being both a charitable person and non smoker I gave the evil weed to a passing twelve year old who amused me by using the word "Luvaducks" in a sentence about youth crime. I also gave him a shilling to hire the jack he carried in his back pocket. Clever kid, by hiring the jack I stopped him taking my wheels for half an hour . "Sort of insurance you see, Mister. " He said in a cockney accent. I left before he broke into song.
At the end of a long drive the house I was to visit glowered like the Bates place in Psycho, fortunately no one came when I rang the bell. Back on the road Spud, for I'd nicknamed the boy Spud on account of his filthy neck, was casting covetous glances at my vehicle. "Hoy!" I shouted. "You said half an hour." He shouted back, "It has been half an hour mister." He was right, convinced the crows above were talking about me I lingered too long on that rutted gravel track. My bird suspicion was confirmed when the car pulled away and one said, "Isn't that kid a bit young to be driving?" Reader, I could have wept.
7 comments:
It's grim up north. Are you perhaps living in a Gothic novel?
Annie,
I've got a new job, different part of town. It's very scary and doesn't appear on maps.
There are a few such places around here too, but there is no way I could ever post pictures of those neighborhoods. Not that I want to keep potential tourists unaware of it, but cuz if you take a camera there you won't bring it back...
D,
These new parts of town and sometimes shrouded in mists and all the shops have dark interiors and even the local youth avoid the place. It's very very very weird...
Ahh...Locals. Something else aren't they.
League of Gentlemen-esque.
Loves it.
Wicked piece of writing. Sounds like Alfred Hitchcock and Stephen King. [Wicked being Caribbean word for very good].
The kid didn't steal your car?
Where was this, Dan?
Buffy,
Why thank you! Country types, can't live with em, er, can't live with em. That might seem harsh but at least it's fair.
G,
The child didn't steal my car so I gave him a silver button to polish and sent him on his way. He was happy with that, touched knuckle to forehead called me sir and danced his way out of the street to a merry jig. Urchins, they may be stereotypes but know how to give value.
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