two thousand pounds, part 3

by bofa xesjum

part three of three

to read part two, click here

to read part one, click here

mrs meadows and her cat lived in a cottage down a crooked lane off the high road. it was after midnight when the vicar, armed with a stout stick and a sack in which to hopefully capture the cat, ventured down the crooked lane. there was no moon, but there were tall trees coming together over his head, and in the darkness he could barely keep to the path. suddenly the cottage was in front of him. there were no lights, as he had expected and hoped. should he knock? he thought not. best to simply try the front door first. yes, that was a good plan. feeling foolish, he crept to the front door. what is the point of “creeping” ? he wondered. in the unlikely event that there is anybody in the vicinity to see me, they will either see me or not. stealthily he tried the knob of the cottage’s front door. yes, “stealthily”, he thought, how else would i turn it? suddenly the vicar wondered, is this all worth it? just to restore the stained glass windows in the chapel into which a soul hardly ventures any more. but he was captive to forces beyond his control, and in for a penny, in for a pound. he turned the knob. the door opened, silently! so far, so good. except that he could not see a thing in the dark interior of the cottage. but he heard something. a hiss - the hissing of a cat! and there were the cat’s yellow eyes on the ground in front of him. in a single motion he reached for the cat and seized it and stuffed it into his sack! the beast had been fatter and heavier than he had imagined it would be, but offered no resistance except a slight increase in his hissing. it had not even tried to scratch him. quickly closing the door behind him, the vicar slung the sack with the cat in it over his shoulder and hurried back up the lane. but he had not gone thirty meters when he heard a voice behind him… “reverend, reverend sir, you forgot something…” the vicar turned and to his amazement saw old mrs meadows stumping up the road to him on her cane! with no thought of escaping, he could only say, “why , good evening, mrs meadows, whatever could i have forgotten?” the old woman came up to him and held something out to him. an envelope. “why, what can this be?’ the vicar asked. “it is your instructions from lady molly as to your third task.” “of course, of course.” “you can give jeffrey back to me now,” mrs meadows said. “jeffrey?” “the cat. you accomplished lady molly’s second task by kidnapping him. so now you can give him back to me.” “oh, yes, of course.” the vicar handed the sack with the cat in it to mrs meadows. he took the envelope from her and extracted a piece of paper from it. “i am afraid i can’t read this,” he told mrs meadows. “it’s too dark.” “the light will be better on the high road,” he told him. she slung the sack over her shoulder and turned to go. “good night, reverend.” “good night. i hope jeffrey was not too inconvenienced by his little adventure.” “oh, no, we were both expecting it.” and with that mrs meadows headed back to her cottage. when the vicar made it back to the high road he took the piece of paper with lady moly’s instructions back out of his pocket. but a sudden wind came along and blew it out of his hand and down the road. the vicar never did accomplish his third task, or know what it was. a week later, more unpleasantness broke out in the district, and a gang of thugs completely destroyed the chapel and smashed the stained glass windows to pieces. years later, a couple of children were playing in the ruins of the chapel, and they found the piece of paper which had been blown out of the vicar’s hand, but the words on it had been worn away. the end

two thousand pounds, part 2

by bofa xesjum

part two of three

to read part one, click here

“listen carefully,” lady molly instructed the vicar, as night fell on “the meadows”. “i am listening, “ the vicar assured her. “your first task will be to steal the thug from major marston’s lawn.” the vicar was shocked. “but the major loves that thug! it has been in his family, and on his lawn, for generations.” “do you want your two thousand pounds, or do you not?” lady molly demanded. “please go on,” the vicar replied hastily. “steal the thug from the lawn, and bring it to me. i do not expect you will meet any difficulties, for the major, as you know, has fallen into the most desperate poverty, like so many in these troubled times. he stays in his room reading regimental histories, and has no household staff to speak of.” the vicar nodded. “and the second task?” “perform this one first.” the vicar resignedly made his way to “the croppers”, the sadly neglected marston home. there was no sign of life, except for a lone light in an upper story, no doubt the major, as lady molly had indicated, poring over a regimental history, or a novel by surtees or whyte-melville. the vicar found the thug on the lawn where it had always been. though he had passed it by thousands of times, he had never really looked at it before. what a nasty little thing! it was an effigy, about a foot tall and crudely carved in wood, of an evilly-grinning turbaned and knife-brandishing “thug” - i e, a member of the murderous secret society which had disturbed the peace of the raj in the long ago days of britain’s glory. with a shudder the vicar plucked the little thing easily enough from the lawn - which he could not help noticing was running to seed - placed it in a sack he had brought for the purpose, and hastily returned to lady molly’s. lady molly was waiting for him. she took a quick look in the sack, and murmured a not very convincing “well done”. “and my second task?” the vicar asked , hoping it would prove no more difficult than the first. “you are to steal mrs meadows’s black cat.” “steal mrs meadows’s cat! but - mrs meadows does not leave the cat on the lawn at night! it is old, like herself, and hardly leaves the house. why, it may be dead for all we know.” “rest assured that the cat is alive. mrs meadows herself is barely alive, and sleeps twenty hours a day. she, too, has been affected by the difficult times, and has one old servant who is almost as comatose as she is. you should have no problems.” “but - but - how am i to gain entry to the house?” the vicar protested. “do what you have to do, as they say in the american films,” lady molly replied evenly. “but - does the cat have to be - does have to be - “ “does it have to be alive, is that what you are trying to say? yes, i would prefer that it be alive.” the vicar sighed. “then i may as well be going, and getting on with it.” “you may finish your cup of tea, if you like. would you like another biscuit?” “no, thank you.” part 3

two thousand pounds, part 1

by bofa xesjum

part one of three

the vicar felt only a slight trepidation as he approached “the meadows”. “the meadows” was the stately ancestral home of lord mollifield, and his charming wife lady mollifield. lady mollifield was known far and wide and beloved by the nickname “lady molly”, though perhaps not quite so beloved or known so widely as she and her faithful admirers, such as the vicar, liked to believe. the vicar was calling on lady molly to ask her to make a donation toward restoring one of the stained glass windows in the chapel, which had been damaged during some of the recent unpleasantness. dusk was falling, and bats flying around the branches of the great beech tree in front of the main house. lady molly was holding court on the verandah, as she did almost every evening when the weather permitted it. the vicar was admitted to her presence without ceremony, and, there being no other petitioners or acolytes present, took his comfortable seat on her right hand. the vicar was asked as a matter of form if he would like a cup of tea and a biscuit, and he indicated that it would be his pleasure. “so, what is it to be this time, reverend?“ lady molly asked when the vicar was settled. “have you come to give me some money?” this was one of lady molly’s recurring little jokes, and the vicar chuckled and played along. “no,” the vicar smiled. “i thought this time around you could give me a small sum. for a good cause, of course.” “you don’t say so? and what is the good cause this time?” the vicar knew that lady molly liked him to get right to the point at this stage. “to restore the stained glass windows at the chapel. especially the one of st wenceslas and little red riding hood ascending to heaven as the big bad wolf howls at them. as you know, they were seriously damaged during the recent - unfortunate events.” “the peasants uprising, you mean,” lady molly replied. “and how much do you expect from me?” at this point a maid arrived with the vicar’s tea and biscuit, and he waited until she had departed before answering. “i thought two thousand pounds would be a reasonable sum.” “two thousand pounds! my dear vicar, you can not be serious.” lady molly seemed genuinely surprised, not just playing her usual game. “what world are you living in? do you not keep up wth the news?” it was the vicar’s turn to be genuinely confused. “but - surely the recent unpleasantness is over, and life can be resumed as before - has, in fact been resumed as before, has it not? all due to the splendid efforts of general watson-tyler, the glory of whose victories will ring forever down the centuries.” “yes, that is all very well, but if you were paying attention you might notice that the world - and the funds, the funds, my dear friend, are still jumping around like jackrabbits.” “why, in places like america and atlantis perhaps, but not here in little wiggery! in litte wiggery, all is back to normal, as it always has been and always will be. the miller will grind his grain, the smith will shoe his mare, the sheep will munch his blade of grass, the innkeeper will pour his glass. the sexton will pass the plate, and - the lady of the manor will keep up the plate glass window, eh?” lady molly laughed. “very good, vicar, very good. tell me, how do you like your biscuit?” “why - it’s quite tasty, as always.” “i am glad to hear it, especially as it was baked in, and imported from, the new empire of gondwanaland.” “be that as it may, i found no fault with it,” the vicar replied. he then fell silent, appearing to be at a loss for words. lady molly leaned back in her comfortable chair. “look here, my friend, do you really want two thousand pounds?” “i most certainly do.” “then i have a way for you get them. but you will have to earn them.” the vicar repressed a sigh. “if that is what it takes. what would you have me do?” “i have three tasks for you. carry them out successfully, and you will have your two thousand pounds, for your stained glass windows, or for anything else you wish. now, listen carefully…” part 2

the red queen's revenge and the white dog

by bofa xesjum

the little white dog ran down the street, and the parlormaid watched it from the window. the housekeeper called sharply to the parlormaid, and the parlormaid returned with a sigh to her duties. the parlormaid had laid the silverware out, but had interrupted her polishing of it to look at the little white dog running down the street. her majesty is in a particularly foul mood today, the housekeeper informed the parlormaid, as foul as i have ever seen her. so i strongly suggest you give these forks and spoons a thorough good cleaning and brushup. is she now? the parlormaid replied sulkily. well, boo on her, says i. she is not really a queen, you know. isn’t she now, miss? and what leads you to that conclusion, if i may be so bold as to ask? because everything is an illusion, replied the parlormaid. everything. that i am a parlormaid polishing the silverware, that you are the housekeeper supervising me as i polish the silverware, that madam is a queen, all these things are so only because they are believed to be so. really now? really. just then the queen entered the parlor. well then, the housekeeper said to the parlormaid, why don’t you repeat to madam what you just told me. gladly. and without pausing in her polishing of a soup spoon, the parlormaid repeated, word for word, the observatioms she had previously vouchsafed to the housekeeper. what do you think of all that, madam? the housekeeper said to the queen with a smirk. the queen paused. i think she is quite correct, she finally said. everything we do is a charade, and a damned dull one at that. do you think so? the housekeeper asked. yes. there is absolutely no reason i should be a queen, she a parlormaid, and you a housekeeper. what should we be then? enquired the housekeeper. i think that after we finish tea, the queen replied, we should all three assume new lives and new identities, and take to the high road in search of adventure. what do you say? that is a splendid idea, the parlormaid agreed. i could not think of a better one myself. what say you? she asked the housekeeper after a moment’s hesitation, the housekeeper said, count me in. i suggest, said the parlormaid, that we let polly, the milkmaid, in on the excursion. i am sure she would enjoy it. the more the merrier, the queen agreed. and so at dusk, the intrepid quartet, the queen, the parlormaid, the housekeeper , and polly the milkmaid set out. soon they came to a truck stop, with several big rigs parked beside it. four rowdy fellows were seated at an outside table, enjoying the evening breeze, a few cool ones, and cheeseburgers and fries. whitey smith was hauling a load of apples to the big city, along with his helper, known only as doggie. they were joined at the table by gus brown, who was starting a cross country trip to pittsburgh with a consignment of red white and blue paper napkins, and rick richards , a local layabout with no permanent address. look here , the parlormaid addressed whitey smith, we are looking for transport to the big city. do you think you can oblige any or all of us? i can use two of you, whitey answered, if you are willing to ride in the back of the truck and help unload my apples when we get there. it was agreed that the parlormaid and the queen would ride with whitey and doggie, and when whitey and doggie had finished their beers they set out. gus brown agreed to give the housekeeper a lift as far as sparks nevada, and they too departed, leaving polly the milkmaid at the table with rick richards. i am not sure i have anything for you, babe, rick advised polly, but if you want to wait for me, i am going to see a man about a certain proposition which might be beneficial to both of us. polly agreed, and purchased a cup of decaf and a raspberry danish and sat down to wait for rick. she decided she would give him an hour, and if he did not show up, she would start hitchhiking in the general direction of the big city, where she might rejoin the queen and the parlormaid. as she was waiting, a little white dog approached the table and looked at her expectantly. there were some scraps left over from the cheeseburgers and polly tossed them to the dog. it devoured them and ran off into the night.

the naughty girls

by bofa xesjum

“you have been a couple of very naughty girls," said the duke. "but i have something here which will teach you to mind your manners." mr osgood thought he heard something at his window. he did not think it was rain, as he had checked the weather forecast before making his evening sandwich, as he always did. he carefully placed his french novel, face down with the pages open, on the wide arm of his comfortable chair. he got up and went to the window. he lifted the shade and looked out. he could not see anything, but it was difficult to tell with the light from his tall lamp reflecting in the window. rather than return to his chair and turn the lamp off, which seemed to him somehow ridiculous, he went to the front door and opened it. it was not raining, and he stepped out and walked slowly around the side of the house to the window at which he thought he heard something. he neither saw nor heard anything, and feeling relieved but a bit foolish - he could hear his late wife saying, what an old woman you are, albert - he returned to the front of the house. and noticed a car pulled up in front of the house, on the opposite side of the street. had it been there before? it took a couple of seconds for his brain to register that it was a police car, and then two policepersons stepped out of it. a man and a woman. they both looked familiar. mr osgood did watch television on occasion, although he did not enjoy television shows nearly as much as he enjoyed french novels, and he knew what the police were like. the woman was a good looking blonde, with a no-nonsense look on her face. she would be in charge . the man was a big moon-faced dufus. he would be her foil. “do you have a problem, sir?” the woman asked mr osgood. “it appears to be nothing, officer,” mr osgood replied. “ i thought i heard a noise at my window, and came out to check, but nothing seems to be amiss. it might have been a bird.” “there are not too many birds around at this time of year, sir,” the woman replied. “do you mind if we look around, sir?” the man asked, in a somewhat squeaky voice. “no of course not,“ mr osgood told him. he started to add, it is your job, isn’t it? but thought better of it. the two police officers produced small but powerful flashlights and began walking around the house, pointing the flashlights around randomly . mr osgood was afraid they might trample the flower garden which he had neglected since his wife died, but thankfully they seemed to ignore it. the pair returned in a few minutes, snapping off their flashlights. “do you mind if we look around inside, sir?” the man asked. “just to be on the safe side.” “we do not have a warrant to search your premises, sir,” the woman added. “but we would appreciate it if you would invite us in.” “no, come in by all means,” mr osgood answered with his best smile. did they really think he was going to refuse them? the two officers followed him into the house. the woman made straight for mr osgood’s chair and picked up the french novel lying flat on its arm. “what have we here?” she said. she picked it up and began to read - “you have been a couple of very naughty girls," said the duke. "but i have something here which will teach you to mind your manners." miranda began to whimper. cecily covered her eyes in shame. just then there was a knock on the door. “who can that be”? the duke muttered grimly. “stay right here, you two.” he got up from his armchair and marched to the door and flung it open. it was mrs nottingham, the neighborhood busybody and the president of the neighborhood improvement association. “do you mind keeping the noise down?” mrs nottingham demanded of the duke. “this is the third night in a row there have been complaints.” “why, you damned old cow,” the duke began , but his attention was diverted - for miranda and cecily had taken the opportunity to turn into birds, and flew over his shoulder and out the door over mrs nottingham’s head and into the night . they flew over mr osgood’s house. “it was a shame what happened to poor mrs osgood,” miranda said, “we should look in on mr osgood and see if he is suffering from any guilt.” “that is a good idea,” cecily agreed. mr osgood thought he heard something at his window. he did not think it was rain, as he had checked the weather forecast before making his evening sandwich, as he always did. he went to the front door and opened it. it was not raining, and he stepped out and walked slowly around the side of the house to the window at which he thought he heard something. he neither saw nor heard anything, and feeling a bit foolish he returned to the front of the house. and noticed a car pulled up in front of the house, on the opposite side of the street. had it been there before? it was a police car, and then two policepersons , a man and a woman, stepped out of it. “do you have a problem, sir?” the woman asked mr osgood.

stephen

by bofa xesjum

stephen had studied hard for the test. it was a test for applicants for entry level positions at the department of inspections. stephen took the test because he hoped to improve his lot, and to provide a better home for himself and for his ailing mother, and for his two younger siblings, both of whom had problems. the test was administered in a large classroom with forty desks spaced far enough apart to make copying another applicant’s answers difficult. the test was not at all what stephen expected, or what he had studied so hard for. the first and only question was: are you a ham and egger? yes or no. if you answered no, explain in between two hundred and a thousand words, why you are not. if you answered yes, then either a) you wish to not be a ham and egger, or b) you are happy with being a ham and egger if you answered a) explain in between two hundred and a thousand words, what steps you plan to take to improve yourself and no longer be a ham and egger if you answered b) explain in between two hundred and a thousand words, why you are proud to be a ham and egger and why you do not wish to change after some hesitation, stephen wrote the following: i reject the concept of “ham and egger”. i do not think people should be classified in this manner, or in any manner. i think that all human beings, and all living creatures, are children of the universe, and that each has a role to play in the unfolding of the universe. the bee hovering over a flower, the ant patiently carrying his crumb, the cab driver cruising a dark lonely street, the student baffled over his first year calculus book, the deli cook making a tuna salad sandwich, the nobel prize winning scientist probing the mysteries of dark matter, the gorilla in the zoo contemplating the child contemplating him, are all notes in the swelling symphony of reality. all deserve respect, and none should be degraded by labels, no matter how “humorously” intended. yesterday, as i sat in the park, attempting to study for this examination, i saw a rabbit on the green grass, two pigeons in the gravel walk at my feet, a squirrel scurrying up a tree, and an old woman slowly pushing a small cart with a paper bag in it which i assumed contained groceries but might have contained several volumes of the encyclopedia brittanica. none of them asked me if i were a “ham and egger.” i hope these words can be taken constructively, in the spirit in which they are offered, and not as a criticism of anybody’s motives. having finished his text, stephen pressed “send” on his monitor, and got up and left the classroom. of the forty applicants, he was the seventh to finish. when stephen got outside the building, he blinked in the sunlight for a second. the he noticed a group of about a dozen people across the street, each holding a bow and arrow. stephen thought he recognized robin hood, william tell, annie oakley, and calamity jane, but in any case they all brought up their bows and fired at him, filling his body with arrows and killing him instantly.