Redundancy hit hard, really hard. Everything gone, being a somebody, the cars, the golfing trips to Spain. But Carol walking out with the kids, now that hurt. Could life get any worse?
“You have a good day” the warden at the shelter for the homeless said.
“Yeah whatever” I muttered.
The wheelie bins stank of waste food, vomit and urine, but the old adage one man’s trash is another’s treasure. The first two rubbish bags did not live up to that, but the third, “jeepers” I said as I closed the canvas bag and briskly walked away. And then the dilemma started, the internal conflict. Hand it into the police, or not.
The weeks passed and despondency had set in. “Tony Johns?” I looked up from my cold mug of tea.
“Yeah” I said “what now?”
“If you would come with us please” the policeman said.
The detective inspector looked me in the eyes and said “the stolen property and jewellery is very valuable, and also of great sentimentality too”
“So what has that got to do with me?”
“Actually quite a lot” said the detective inspector,
I could not believe I was hearing this “you’ve got to be joking”
The woman in the azure suit walked over from the window and smiled “No Tony he is not joking and yes it’s of great sentimental value” I was starting to feel the winds of change when she said “my family can’t thank you enough for handing in our property and we would like you to accept this reward by way of thanks”
The reward enabled me to turn my life full circle, but I had no desire to be top dog with a flash car. And so here I am just trying to give something back.
“Be lucky” I said locking the door behind the last person to leave the shelter for the day.
Saturday, 21 May 2016
He was just an average bloke
Yearned for wealth and fame,
Fed up with being lonely and broke
He played the lottery game.
Superstitions were piffle to him,
But a lucky charm he had
Bony and hairy, really quite grim,
He said it wasn’t that bad;
He held it tight that Saturday eve’
The lottery had just begun
The balls popped out his numbers came up
A million pounds he won.
He met her on that winning night
Said her name was Kim,
His friend said she wasn’t quite right
Tho’ she said she loved him
Kim told him don’t walk under the ladder,
An unlucky way to behave
And then she nudged him off the pavement
That bus was the death of poor Dave.
The rabbit’s foot she had thrown away
She knew it was a lucky charm
If he’d had it with him that fateful day,Would he have come to harm?