This is Helland church. Helland is a village on Bodmin Moor. Population less than 200. I have tried to find a bigger better copy for weeks, but couldn't. This is just so atmospheric. The grey sky, the tombstones and the framing are so perfect it almost looks like a painting. This could be taken as a window into my soul. As regular readers of my pathetic prose will already know. The Village is a story that's been in my head for decades. It's made up of the weird and wonderful people I have met. In my head it's a lot darker. Not a lot of light comes in through my eye holes. This tale should also be a lot darker. Because this is a comedy competition I've missed out a lot of that, I find it hilarious but others don't. I've laughed at the funerals of two brothers, a sister, both my parents and over a dozen friends, because that's what Cornish people did. Mourn a birth, celebrate a death. They are supposed to be going to a much better place. As a result of cutting out the numerous, and to me comical, deaths I may have missed out other things as well which would make the narrative easier to follow and contain at least a few traces of plot. Anyway enough of the excuses for my complete lack of any talent.
(The copyright for this image is the property of StudiaPhotos - WordPress.com)
"Of course you know, this does mean I am going to have to hurt you."
Michael glared at Luke over his full English breakfast, the only contribution that country had ever made to anything that didn't involve killing people and it was possibly responsible for more deaths than carpet bombing. Oh the irony.
"Why?" Luke asked plaintively
"I don't need a reason. You might as well ask why the sun comes up. It just does. It doesn't need a reason. Although I've recently remembered you said some nasty things about me at the mock employment tribunal Sophie set up for the entire village to witness. You made me look like a monster."
Luke looked shocked and miserable.
"I only told the truth."
"Precisely. Nobody wants the truth Luke, look at social media and any other media. Every commercial is a lie. People prefer a beautiful lie to the ugly truth every time. It's the way the world works. I am your landlord. You are expected to present me as a wonderful, philanthropic human being. When I think of all the things I've done for you."
Luke's head twitched, his eyes blinked rapidly, as he tried to fathom what these things were.
"I'm not sure... How... What things have you done for me?"
"I've let you keep your lungs haven't I. Despite the number of times you've crossed me I've stopped myself from removing your innards as is my right."
"Why are you mad at me now?"
"Finally a good question. Let me elaborate. Firstly, have you been touching my stuff?"
"Sorry?"
Michael enunciated every single word forcefully.
"Have you been touching my stuff?"
"Um.. I don't think so."
"It's precisely that lackadaisical manner that's caused my anger with you. Granted the ground state is always that I am annoyed with you. You're handsome, kind and generous. Which is bad enough, but now I find your presence here has affected things that it shouldn't. It's almost as though you have some supernatural power to piss me off."
"I'm still not sure what you mean."
Michael used his knife to embellish his point. Jabbing it towards Luke.
"Yesterday I opened a pack of bacon. Contents 6 rashers. There were only 5 in the packet. One of them was double thickness which is the only thing that prevented me from setting fire to you in your bed. The weight was correct so in essence I had the correct amount of bacon. In one sense. However there is a delicate symmetry to constructing the perfect, two egg, egg and bacon sandwich. It requires 6 rashers. No more. No less. Exactly 6 rashers of bacon. Three per egg. That's the golden ratio for the egg and bacon sandwich. Some would say 2 is enough for any man. I would disagree and I'm always right, another thing you should have remembered when you gave evidence."
"How is that my fault?"
"I wish I knew. If I could work out how you do these impossible things I could possibly find a way to prevent you. Another case in point. You winning twenty grand on a scratch card you never bought. A scratch card that was obviously a scam. Good people aren't supposed to benefit from scams. It's against the natural order of the universe. Good people get shit on from a great height. They are taken advantage of. By everyone. Assholes rule the world. They make all the rules to benefit assholes. Nice guys always come last and where women are concerned they rarely come at all."
His lodger blushed scarlet.
"That was uncalled for. There's no need to stoop to that level even in conversation."
"No, no, no we're not having a conversation. I'm lecturing you on the error of your ways. Stop being good. For your own good. Usually anyone as humane as you is wearing rags, living in a cardboard box and shitting in a bucket. That's how you know they are good. If someone is well dressed, wealthy and happy then you know they are pure evil. Sure they'll pretend to be good. Fake a social conscience, but they're only building their brand up to make themselves wealthier and thus happier."
"Good people get their reward in heaven."
"Which, if true, is a brilliant system. That system has broken down with you. I hoped it was because you were a wolf in sheep's clothing. A ruthless, heartless bastard only pretending to care. In the absence of any evidence for this I have been forced to the conclusion you possess supernatural powers. As such I feel obliged to inform the elders of your church that you are indeed a disciple of Satan. Who receives unjustifiably bad press in my opinion. I've no idea who these elders are and I can't be bothered to find out. So your secret is safe for now. Of course at some point I'll meet a bizarre end like being sliced in half by the detached propeller of a light plane, while I'm having a shit. That's when the dark satanic fores will get me. Maximum embarrassment ensured. I'll have skid marks in my underwear and suspicious stains I expect. Then due to my unique mode of death the police will investigate. This will lead to them going through my browser history. That is not something I look forward to and I'll be dead while they're doing it. The evidence as seen points to only one conclusion Luke. You are in fact the Antichrist. The bastard son of Satan. Understandably this has upset me. I was hoping I was. It would explain so many things though. In short Luke you not being suicidally depressed and poverty stricken is wrong in every sense of the word clitoris."
Michael looked at Luke expectantly. Luke, mystified by the look, glanced from side to side. Possibly hoping to find something to explain it.
"Is there a point to all this?"
Michael waited. There was a very long pause before he finally spoke.
"You're just going to let clitoris slide then? After making a big fuss about come, you're going to completely ignore the clitoris. Typical man. You got what you wanted then buggered off. You selfish bastard. Mind you I suppose if you find come so offensive you're not going to have anything to do with clitoris, are you."
"I'm not biting. You can't offend me anymore."
"I know. Do you know how annoying that is? An inoffensive person who can't really be offended. Then even if he is mildly offended he instantly forgives. You are an utter, utter cock."
Luke got up and took his breakfast dishes to the sink. Where he rinsed them before placing them in the dishwasher.
"I'm just glad Amy isn't here to learn this language."
"Oh she knows all about the cock and the clitoris. Of course she thinks they're simply characters in a story I keep telling her. Then one day, when she reaches that age all young girls reach, she'll finally realize that innocent childhood tale was actually a pornographic journal of depravity. That her lovely Uncle Michael was actually a filthy, disgusting pervert. I'm pretty sure it'll either turn her into a lesbian or make her distrust men for the rest of her life."
His lodger went pale at the thought.
"Y.. yuh.. you wouldn't do that. Not to Amy."
"Yeah you're right. Busted. Despite my empty threats even I wouldn't despoil a child. I'm coming to the conclusion I'm not the odious piece of shit I pride myself in being. I can only be so evil before I back off. It's a weakness I will live to regret."
"Are you alright?"
Luke was concerned. His voice and demeanor showed that this had thrown him off balance.
"Not really, but that's always the case with me. I'm never alright Luke. I'm always disgruntled with everything. Except children. I start to think there's hope for the future and then they grow up and become just like the rest of us. It's sad. It doesn't make me sad though. It makes me cynical. Now does Rachel know about your cash windfall or are you keeping it quiet until after the divorce settlement?"
If anything Luke looked even more worried now.
"I told Sister Rachel about it as soon as I got it. I've already told you that as well. Your memory's always bad Michael but recently it's become worse. You're forgetting entire conversations. I think you should have a check up. Let Dr Singh give you the once over. Only Mrs Bennett started out like that and now she has no idea what day it is."
"Sorry? Who are you again? Where am I? Why am I here. I want to go home. You look just like Ursula's eldest you do. He got killed in the Dordogne by the Gestapo. Which was odd because it only happened last week. My memory is just the way it should be you tool. Malfunctioning constantly. Who needs memories anyway. I can fucking video, Snapchat and Facebook my entire life online. Let other people remember it. I've got better things to do. Besides I want to know what you're going to do with your half of the money."
"We haven't decided yet. There are other...concerns. I'm starting to have doubts."
"Great. Ditch the bitch and set yourself up in a nice little pad. Good looking guy like you would be up to his neck in pussy in no time."
His cohabitant ignored him.
"No. We're both starting to have doubts. Rach.. Sister Rachel and I have very strong principles. They kept us on the right path. Or so we thought. It's very difficult."
"No it isn't you numpty. It's incredibly easy. Stop calling your wife Sister Rachel and move back in with her and your daughter. Fuck the Falmouth Bretheren. Fuck them right up the ass. God doesn't care what you call each other."
"I thought you didn't believe in God."
"I don't. Unfortunately he believes in me. Or if you want the truth I don't dismiss your god. I just think he's got better things to do than care about how regularly you go to church, which direction you pray in or what words you use. You have concerns then. What do these concerns concern?"
Luke's head bobbed up and down as he deciphered the question.
"It's about Amy. This current lifestyle we're forced to live isn't conducive to a happy childhood. She sees both of us but not together. Except for the special occasions like birthdays and Christmas. I'm surprised by your honesty Michael."
"Not half as surprised as I am, I can assure you. Look it's not cast in stone yet but after Doogie and Doidge have done with Deveraux house, Miles and Penny have plans to renovate a couple of the old estate cottages. They're looking at renting to buy as an option. I dare say they'd look favorably on you after all your work with Sophie. Have a quiet word, but don't tell anyone I told you about it."
"Thank you. I'll speak to... Rachel first. See what she thinks. One thing though. If we did rent to buy wouldn't that cause some friction in the village. We're not from round these parts after all."
"It'll be fine. Amy's attending the school here. That makes her one of us. They'll tolerate you. Grudgingly."
"It's funny you know, I miss working with Sophie. I was getting quite good at escaping her tricks and traps. Even though they were getting more and more sophisticated."
Michael chuckled.
"No argument from me. That lady is unique. Half angel, half demon and all genius. Oh one final thing..."
Luke grinned from ear to ear.
"I know. I'm not to take this as being an act of kindness. You are 100% pure evil and would sell my daughter for spares at the drop of a hat. If this happens we'll owe you a lot though."
"Cash will do Luke. Whenever you're ready. There's no rush. Now fuck off. I've got a Netflix binge I need to doze through."
