The Super Discount Shoe Sale
‘Oh my, Granny look at those shoes!’
‘Cheap shoes at low prices, dear. Can we please just window shop? If we go inside, somebody might think that we want to buy something. Respectable people do not shop at “Super Discount” stores, and those gloves are much too large.’
‘Oh Granny, they`re just for display purposes. They don`t really make them that big.’
‘And yet they would fit your Aunty Rita, Melanie. She has such large hands, most unladylike. Too much time in her greenhouse messing with growbags if you ask me. If they did growbags for breasts, perhaps she wouldn`t be so flat-chested.’
‘Granny that`s an awful thing to say! Aunty Rita is lovely.’
‘Yes, dear, she is. But you see Melanie, all of us Forsyth women have been so blessed in the bust department except for Rita. With us, all of the goodness stopped just below the neck. With Rita, it dropped into her hands; a combination of gravity and growbags I believe.’
‘Please say something nice about her, granny. She`s a sweet, kind and generous person.’
‘She is indeed, and If we ever became homeless, she would dig us a burrow; hands like shovels dear.’
‘Well, what about those work boots? Tom is starting a bricklaying course; I`m sure he would like them.’
‘Ah yes, your boyfriend Tom, the uncouth youth, the universal disappointment. Does he still have that terrible complexion? All of those little holes on his face? I used to think it was because he was trying to eat with a fork.’
‘Good grief, it`s open pores, Grandma. We`re dealing with it.’
‘And he scratches so! Melanie, the body parts that Tom scratches so vigorously, simply don`t itch on respectable people. But that aside, I`m sure he would love those boots. If we tie them on tight enough perhaps we can prevent him cutting his toenails in the kitchen.’
‘Granny! Tom doesn`t do that…well not anymore anyway; I`m training him.’
‘As one would train a Chimpanzee, I suppose. Perhaps you should consider some boxing boots, as he`s punching well above his weight with you. Really, Melanie, that nice apprentice architect would be much more suitable. He has impeccable manners and a nice car.’
‘And a lecherous leer to go with it. Honestly, Granny, I`m more than happy with Tom. Once he`s passed his course and is earning money, we plan to move in together and start a family. He`s lovely Granny; please give him a chance.’
‘As you wish dear, I only want you to be happy. Oh, Melanie! look at those baby booties! Aren`t they delightful. I must buy them for you.’
‘But Granny, I`m not even pregnant yet.’
‘Yes, you are dear. I followed you into the toilet yesterday and saw your pregnancy test. You really must read the instructions more carefully. Now do you want those booties or not?’
The Sanctuary by the Shops
Where are we going?
'To the warehouse on the hill, close to the shops.'
‘But that's a really long way, and my legs are aching.’
‘I know, but we have to keep going.’
‘Why are we leaving?’
‘I've already told you; because there's no food left. There's food in the warehouse, and I have friends there.’
‘But what if Mummy comes home?’
‘She's not coming home.’
The little girl held tight to the man's hand, knowing this was true. The wheel on the pram holding their possessions was getting wobblier by the minute, and she didn't think it would make it to the shops.
‘What if the wheel falls off?’
‘It won't, but if I can find a shed with some tools, I'll try to fix it.’
She knew the road, and could see the park in the distance. There were swings and slides and a large climbing frame but nobody played there now. The man had let her play there for a short time while they ate, but it wasn't the same without Mummy and the other kids; the park wasn't fun anymore, and that made her sad. It made her sad to be leaving home, but the man had told her how important it was that they go, so she had written a secret note to Mummy telling her that the man was looking after her, and when she was bigger, she would come home again.
It was the only home she had ever known, and now she had left it behind. She remembered arriving home from school to find a pan of potatoes boiled dry on the stove, and the room full of smoke. Her mother had gone. She had gone to the same place as her friends Emily and Lauren, and her neighbour Mrs Glynn; lots of people went there now.
She imagined it to be a place with unicorns and friendly bears and Eastenders. Mummy liked Eastenders a lot, and she watched it all the time.
She had put herself to bed that night, and in the morning, she had a chocolate bar for breakfast and walked to school.
‘My teacher Mrs Renshaw disappeared too, the day after Mummy. She went into the cupboard for some books and didn't come out. The headmaster Mr Benson looked after us until home time and told us not to come back as the school was closed.’
‘I know you told me that already.’
‘Do you think the school will re-open?’
‘No. There are no schools now.’
‘Why did you kill that man?’
‘He tried to take our food. I had to kill him.’
‘Do you think he was a bad man?’
‘No, just a man trying to survive. He was hungry and wanting to feed his family.’
‘He told you that?’
‘No.’
‘Do you think they'll be waiting for him to come home?’
‘Probably.’
‘When you fix the wheel on the pram, will you fix my Barbie car? The door's fallen
off.’
‘Okay, if I can.’
‘And the horn on my unicorn?’
‘We'll need glue for that. There might be some in the warehouse.’
‘Do you think the man had kids like me?’
‘Maybe.’
‘They'll be hungry now, won't they?’
‘You ask too many questions.’
‘I know, Mummy says that I do. Perhaps their Mummy will disappear like mine, then they’ll be all alone. There might be food in the place where they go, and toys and TV; do you think I'll disappear?’
‘Do you want to?’
‘I don't know. It would be nice to see Mummy, but I don't wont to lose my toys. If I hold them, will they come with me?’
The man laughed. ‘I think that whatever we have with us goes too. They don't leave their clothes behind, do they?’
The little girl shook her head. ‘No. I don't think Mrs Renshaw left her clothes behind.’
The man stopped while the little girl reached into the tray underneath the pram and pulled out a doll which she clutched to her chest.
‘I'm holding Barbie just in case I disappear. I don't want to leave her; she'll be afraid without me.’
‘People only disappear when they're alone. As long as we’re together, we should be okay.’
The little girl nodded, and they continued along the road. The carriageway was rubble-strewn, with the debris of a devastated nation. The town's infrastructure was mostly intact, but there was very little humanity left to make use of it. The man watched as an old man ambled along on the other side of the road. He looked wretched, his clothes hanging loosely on his bony frame. He regarded the man and the little girl for a moment, as if weighing up his chances, before shuffling away.
There were many such ghosts in the city. The Visible, they were called. They were those who had lost everything and were now merely surviving, waiting for the time when they too would be taken. The man himself, had been a Visible once, but he didn't consider himself one now. He felt that having the little girl to care for had somehow elevated him to a higher status. He also had a destination, something to focus on and the possibility of an extended life. The warehouse was a sanctuary and would be a fresh start for them both.
The summer had saved the girl's life. When he had found her, she was little more than skin and bone and was gnawing on a carrot she had found in a neighbour's garden. It was an oasis of fruit and veg, and the man harvested everything, barricading them both in the girl's house where they lived like kings for a few weeks, isolated from the disappearing populace. He had watched the girl recover and then blossom, but now the food had gone, and it was time to leave.
‘What does the warehouse look like?’
‘Well, it's a big red-bricked building, with the word 'warehouse' on the side. If we stay on this road, we'll see it.’
‘Will there be children for me to play with?’
‘I would imagine so.’
‘If it's really big, can we play hide and seek?’
‘No, you mustn't be alone for long, you know that.’
The pram was becoming more and more unstable, and it was clear that it wasn’t going much further. Carrying their possessions wasn't an option, so the wheel would have to be fixed. The man sighed in frustration. The longer they spent on the road, the more danger they were in from the Visibles. The warehouse was now in sight, but to abandon their possessions and walk would not gain them admission to the camp. His friends were clear; he would have to contribute food to gain access, and they had just enough left to get them through the door.
‘Listen, I’ll hide the pram in those bushes while I hunt in that house for some tools. Do you remember what I said about hiding?’
The little girl nodded. ‘I'm good at hiding.’
‘That's good; I’ll be quick.’
The little girl hid in a rockery close to a garden pond. It was a good hiding place, and she could watch the little fishies without being seen from the road.
The man was gone a long time. The little girl became restless and went looking for him. The lock on the shed door was busted and hung loose, with lots of things scattered about, and there was a bag containing a selection of tools that had been placed by the door. The man must have done that, but he was gone.
The little girl began to cry; she didn't want him to be gone; she didn't know how to fix the pram.
She pulled on the handle, trying to free the pram from the bushes, and when she finally managed it, she found it was too heavy to push.
She pulled her crumpled backpack from inside the pram and began filling it with her toys, carefully placing the piece of broken unicorn horn, and the pink Barbie car door, into a special zippered pouch for safekeeping. Barbie, she held in her hand. Her toys were her valuables, her most treasured possessions. However, she knew that she would need to take food to the warehouse, and so she placed an apple in the pocket of her coat and took an opened packet of biscuits. They were a little soft now, and she didn't like them much, but the people inside the warehouse might like them, and everyone liked apples.
Making sure that she had left nothing of value behind, she made the short but steep journey to the warehouse. She would tell the men about the pram, and they would come and fetch it.
The warehouse appeared large and foreboding to the little girl, with its solid brick walls and flaking red paint, and a man was watching her from a broken window as she approached. Upon reaching the window, she felt inside her coat, and with arms aloft, she offered the apple and biscuits.
Binjuice
Well, that's what dad began calling me on the day I was born. I think he had read somewhere that Red Indians called their kids after the first thing they saw after the birth, and for dad, it was some unidentifiable, bacteria-infused liquid that was dripping onto the kitchen floor from a corner of a bin bag.
I wasn`t christened Binjuice of course; Mum would never allow that. I was Virginia, which became Ginny, which became Binny. No shortage of laughs in our house.
I didn`t mind Binny so much. I considered it a vast improvement on my given name, and it was just different enough to make it appealing to me, and on top of that, it just kind of stuck. Virginia was only used when I was being naughty, or when mum was trying to impress the neighbours.
Mortification set in however, when I went to secondary school and the bullies got to know my full, unfortunate, title. I became ‘Juicy Ginny’ or: ‘Ginny`s bin Juicy’, and then they took my dinner money away. Horrible.
School leaving day meant no more bullies, and ‘Binny’ became ‘Bins’ out of respect for my new grown-up status. My first job was at the supermarket down the road, and ‘Bins Mann’ went on my name badge. ‘Mann’ being my maiden name. No shortage of laughs at ‘Phil and Don`s International Food Superstore’.
Then guess what? I married Phil my boss, and became Ginny Finney, or if you prefer, Ginny ‘Binny’ Finney. Catchy or what? Dad didn`t think so. I became Binfin for short, and Binfin I`ve remained. Virginia is now remembered only by the battered, dusty box under the stairs where my birth certificate resides and is unknown to my newer friends and the mum`s at the school.
Did I mention that I was now a parent? That was a shock I can tell you. Phil wanted to name him Vincent after his grandfather, which would have made him Vinny Finney. At that point, I punched him in the head.
An Angel To Kiss My Arse
Dearest God, it’s been a while. It’s me, Matthew White. You may remember me from such exciting episodes as throwing up in the street, getting all my stuff nicked by a trusted friend, losing my missus to a copper and having my kids who suffer from recurring bouts of amnesia whenever they see me in the street.
I have no religion save the booze and the bookies and have been deemed unworthy by both. So you may ask what the fuck I’m doing talking to a God I no longer believe in or have time for. Well, I’ll tell you. I’m talking to God because what the fuck else is there when everything good is gone? Doesn’t everyone look to the heavens for salvation when they’ve made a cluster-fuck of their God-given mortality? My particular cluster-fuck is currently hanging by the slimmest of threads, suspended by a desperate hope and the ticket in my hands. It’s the Sword of Damocles’ only of monumental proportions threatening to drive its blade through my weakening heart and taking with it all I have left.
I’m through with struggling and wading through the filth of my life and pushing increasing amounts of shit up an escalating slope. I’m done with being sweet to those who are sour, and apologising for my shit life to those who put me here in the first place. Remember when I had cash and a decent car? Seems a lifetime ago now. Losing my job to COVID felt like the end of the world to me, but little was I to know that that was the sweet spot. My new-found free time gave me the opportunity to catch my whore of a wife fucking the copper three doors up. A copper, for fucks sake. If that wasn’t rubbing salt in the wound, I don’t know what was. She kept everything because of the kids, and I was homeless overnight. I could have caused a fuss and created a scene but the kids were watching, and they were upset enough as it was, and to be on the safe side, Dickhead of Dock Green called his riot squad mates out to laugh at me as I dragged my black bags into the night. So, you can see why I’m done with this shit, and looking for the exit. I don’t mean death, just a fucking way out for better or worse. If it’s to be a black hole then so be it, and I’ll happily slide into the abyss waving all the way down. But maybe, just maybe, you’ll send an angel to kiss my arse, and that glimmer of light in the distance will become a full-on fucking glare welcoming me to my new life of wealth and stability.
So, you can see why I’ve swapped everything I have left for a ticket with a name on it. Blue Monarch. Innocuous innit? But tumultuous, and it will all be decided in the next five minutes.
And they’re off…