Slums
By David Lea
Published by David Lea at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 David Lea
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Crabby, Daynight and Skrimp hovered over Crumchester. Faint twinkles, rugged edges, deep abysses and small rises moulded the scenery for one of the ten areas which created ‘The Slums’.
“Meagre pickings,” exhaled Skrimp almost unconsciously.
“Always the same,” replied Daynight.
“Argghh where’s all the dead fat people?” moaned Crabby.
“Shut up you pigeon chested mongrel,” said Skrimp who happened to be identically scruffy and as thin as his fellow vultures.
“Keep circling, there’s no way I want to go back yet, Netty has her sister over.”
“The one who caught Amoebic Gill Disease from that left over turtle soup?”
“Ye that’s the one, she has just come back from Hedgehog sanctuary. Hate to think what she has now.”
“Whatever it is I’m sure Crabby wouldn’t mind some,” chuckled Skrimp.
“Shut yer Dodo face,” snapped Crabby.
The vultures flew further into the night sky.
A rather handsome chisel chinned man charged at another silky smooth handsome man in a rage. The third button on Marvin’s pristine silken shirt spun through the air ricocheting off a 1312 Ashridantari vase. The vase was once considered valuable enough to gain a woman’s hand in marriage, sadly its value had decreased to the point it people would exchange it at the first opportunity with their newest friend. It was still an attractive object though.
Marvin glared at his shirt; he was now definitely in a rage and made a very calculated effort to punch Rupert in the face, precisely below the cheekbone. Rupert gasped.
“How dare you!”
Rupert bent his hand back and smacked Marvin in the forehead, landing a good few centimetres above the eyebrow. He did it again for good measure.
“You punched me!” screamed Marvin in shock.
Marvin clenched his dark orangey brown fingers around his thumb and slapped Rupert as hard as he could on the lower part of his jaw, in-between the ear and chin. He did then same with his other hand. It developed into a short lived five slap combo before Marvin’s shoulders sagged. He crawled off Rupert and slouched on his knees.
“How could you Rupert?” wept Marvin. “She, she…”
“She was so beautiful, like an angelic temptress. What could I say? She even gave me the vase.”
“The evil wench, I should have given you the vase. But still my feelings… they’re crumpled beyond repair.”
“I know. I know. And Sarah, I’ve let her down and broken our special bond. If she finds out she will leave me. I will then be as broken as you. Doomed to misery. How can I make this up? How can I fix this wrong?”
“It will take more than tickets to the opera this time. She was worth much more than that.”
“Yes. I doubt even a trip to Masharay’s new colonic irrigation and manicure centre would come close to saying how sorry I am.”
“Well.”
“Followed by a trip to Chevochez’s champaigne parlour.”
“Mmm, it cannot quell the heartache, but it may help take my mind off the sheer treachery.”
Rupert pulled himself upright using his new Darmashon dining table.
“That’s a rather charming table you have. Parsier or Darmashon?”
“It’s Parsier. A bargain from Bert’s.” lied Rupert.
“A Parsier from Berts!” gasped Marvin. “You are becoming rather extravagant Rupert.”
“You know I strive to improve Marvin, I really do, but even the most majestic of us can fall from grace. I’ll call you on the weekend and we can start trying to put this unfortunate incident behind us.”
After a few more pleasantries Marvin strolled out to into the warm musky air of New New York. His weekend had been ruined, his relationship destroyed and he was back at work tomorrow, but next week things looked delightful or would at least feel delightful. Marvin smiled and held his hand out for a cab.
Lars grasped the five sided stone into his feeble hand. Cracked side, cracked side, cracked side he reiterated inside his mind. He repeated it again and again till the speed matched the beat of his heart. He closed his eyes, thrust out his hand and let fate decide.
“Mpfff Spunfumcakes.” wailed Brankie. “It’s the cracked side.”
“I’ve won? I’ve won! I’VE WON!!!” screamed Lars. “Never in a million years could the gods bless me this much again.”
“Brankie reluctantly held out the three dark brown filled plastic bags. Gazing at each one with absolute remorse while Lars jumped through the air around him. Star jumps, frog jumps and rolly pollys.
“Seems I was born to suffer a day like this. Having God’s grace to possess three cheese and grime flavoured bags of mashed soil and losing it a young naïve ‘un who’ll not understand what he has gotten his hands on.”
Lars sank to his needs, arching his neck back and reaching upwards to his reward. Some people in history had reached up in this way for offerings, for their first born or to thank god for a miracle. Lars had won him and his family food for a month.
“This is will taste good,” he said drooling as he grabbed the bags.
He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain this. Could he tell them the truth? About how he gambled his dead grandfather’s last quarter penny and won big time. Would they understand? It would be a lot easier to lie, but it was three bags, he wouldn’t be able to say he simply found them lying around. The truth was going to be tricky, lying was going to be tricky, maybe it wouldn’t matter because they would be grateful. He scoffed at that thought, miracles like that only come once in a lifetime and his family was suffering the misfortune of living a really long time.
“Thank you very much,” grinned Lars.
He skipped out from the seedy, decrepit alley-way, into a dirty, revolting street and immediately stuffed the bags into the rags he called pants. Today had been a great day in the life of Lars and he had a sneaking feeling it was only going to get better.
Another dreary day began at the Special Technologies For Universities, a special firearms company in charge of controlling the sprawling population born into poverty and developing new instruments used to eradicate peasants and livestock humanely.
The development team were having particular trouble at the moment not because of the backlog of peasants that had been accumulating over the holiday period, but mainly because of the new XT200 prototype, a Laser gun so refined it evaporates a human body into ten grams of grit without the slightest pain or trauma caused. While each of the boffins involved were overjoyed with their success and humanitarian achievement, their superiors along with government officials had pondered over a delicate question. If the peasants were being killed in an instantaneous event, without pain or trauma were they actually being killed? The ten grams of grit was useful during the winter to keep the roads safe, but could they be sure it was really the poor and not some kind of cross dimensional device opening a doorway to a desert planet for a split second.
The scientists couldn’t be sure, a human body naturally contains ten grams of grit and they presumed the remaining body parts were consumed as energy in the combustion process. There needed to be more testing so they sent the latest version XT200 mark 1 down the culling area to gather some data.
Marvin carefully wrapped the two hundred dollar minx coat around his custom golden peg. He carefully brushed down his light green work uniform, combed down his eyebrows using the peg as a mirror and walked into the staff room. His daily routine comprised of facing the window with the overview of the slums, tossing the daily paper from front to back then making idle chit chat with his fellow employees while waiting for Rupert. The goal was too brake up any monotony before facing the biggest bore of the day, which was mowing down the scrubs from the slums.
“Marvin, my good man, you’re slightly late,” said Rupert creeping out of the toilets to surprise Marvin.
“Why Rupert you are mistaken, you are the one who seems dreadfully early. Bowl or personal troubles?” replied Rupert with a wicked grin.
“Neither of course, you rascal. You may have forgotten we were due a new toy today. Hopefully it will something ever so less tedious than that terrible Laser Manure 3000.”
“Err yes, the boffins must have been in a rather funny mood to create a gun which turned waste into waste.”
“And don’t forget the aiming, absolutely horrendous. Having to actually aim at them individually otherwise we would be left with all those heads rolling around on mounds of faeces.”
“I would sacrifice my complete Michael George collection if we could go back to using the steamroller.”
The pair were interrupted by the flashing red light riveted above the entrance to the gun turret.
“Splendid time for work.”
Lars slipped opened the ancient mosquito netting the Richeart family currently used as a roof and a doorway. Slowly he removed any traces of excited emotion and careful formed the best regretful look he could muster. Small step after small step he entered the rickety tent and stood at the centre of the Richeart home.
Each set of eyes turned to Lars, first in joy then in disappointment.
“Where yor been now ye wee scallywag,” hissed his father through his remaining two teeth.
“Laaaarrrsss don’t tell me you’ve been trying it on with the neighbour’s dog again.”
“MUM!” shreiked Lars, “No, we’ve talked about that already! I have some good news and some bad news,” continued Lars returning to his regretful face.
Lars cupped his hands behind his back, sank his chin into his chest and took a long deep breathe.
“I’ve gone and stolen these.” Lars proceeded to swing his hands out in front of his body revealing the bags of mashed soil.
“Holy Thatcheriah!!”
“Jumpin’ spunfumcakes!”
“Blessed puddle water!”
“Mhumppf!!”
The whole family cheered in unison and in timely fashion his mum started to cry.
“For the first time in a decade,” she sobbed “We have a reason not to eat off the floor. Oh my, I better go scrub the bin lid,” and she ran outside to begin the preparation.
Wow, the bin lid, Lars had really, really outdone himself this time. The only time he had eaten from the bin lid was the day his younger sister was born. The after-birth had been the best meal of his life. Lars clenched his fists in front of his chest and cheered with his granddad. Any moment now, he thought, and waited for his granddad’s eye to twitch.
It began with a slow flicker to the left, then a whizzing motion right and down and finally it spiralled into the centre.
“Mhmm?” quizzed his granddad.
His father paused from hugging the old tree bark he used as a pillow. “Ye better not hav robbed this from the Syndicate boy. Mark my words I’ll beat ye like yee was a goat full of chocolate milkshake. Where’d you get it from?”
At last Lars could burst out into a smile.
“I stole it from some rich ponces up in Alessandra Arabia.”
“Phew yew had me goin for a moment there lad,” sighed Lars’s father.
“Phhhm.” sighed his granddad.
“Make sure ye put it somewhere safe till ya mam is done, yu gotta be careful with all the robbin’ basterds around here.”
“I’ve seen more meat in a salad,” bleated Crabby.
“You’ve seen a salad?” smirked Skrimpy.
“Hey, look, I’ve think I’ve spotted a dead man,” interrupted Daynight.
“Where?”
“O wait it’s a branch, it has too much colour to be a dead person.”
“Have you ever wondered what their houses taste of. I bet they’re edible,” grumbled Crabby retreating back to the thought of food.
“Crabby you’re losing the plot mate.”
“I think I am, all I can see is a glowing green light coming from one of them fancy buildings.”
“That’s the last resort zone. Don’t want to stay to close to there unless you are starving to death since anything you find there will most probably kill you.”
“Let’s hang about anyway, would rather be dead then see Netty.”
“Sigh. Another useless gizmo.”
“Let me have a try,” Marvin grabbed the huge semi-circular handles protruding from either side of XT200 Mark 1 and squeezed the triggers. “Come on.”
“Do you think they plugged it in?”
“Who knows with those nerds. There doesn’t seem to be any cables, maybe it’s solar powered.”
“A solar powered machine that’s indoors? I doubt they are that moronic. I don’t understand the green light, you think it’s a lens cover?”
“No idea.” Marvin went around to the front an reached out at the glowing green nozzle. “Give it a squeeze.”
Rupert started pulling the triggers while Marvin was frantically fidgeting with the glowing light.
“No nothing’s happening.”
“Go and push the buzzer. Don’t want to be waiting around here all day while they stare at a nerd screen trying to figure out if they missed a screw.”
Rupert dragged his feet along the floor till he reached the sealed door. With as little effort as he could, he lifted his hand slightly below a small silver monitor and pushed a big red button.
“#Um YeS#” frizzled a voice from five floors above them.
“Guns not working.”
“#~One mo-ment please.”
“I bet this guy looks like a pickle jerkin.”
Marvin smirked a little in the background.
“~What colour is the light ~please#”
“Green,” Rupert giggled and whispered, “like your face.”
“#Seems it needs charging. Report back when it’s red.”
“Eh and what are we supposed to do in the meantime?”
“You must wait. This ~is vitally important#”
Rupert trudged back towards the turret and sat in the only seat available in the room.
“So Rupert are going to tell me why you came to work so early? Did you tell Sarah or is your conscience weighing you down?”
“My conscience no, but my suspicion yes. I sat her down to break the news as carefully and as gently as I could and she didn’t seem to be affected at all. She just smiled. I mean if I had wounded your heart, surely I would of obliterated hers.”
“Women are strange creatures Rupert, hasn’t this weekend taught you anything?”
“Very true Marvin, but when she left she said, ‘poor Rupert, it was fun, bye.’ It wasn’t right, she wasn’t confused, crying, emotional, it’s irritating me and I don’t know why.”
Rupert gazed over at Marvin awaiting the usual advice that did not arrive. It caused him to pause for a moment and he realised Marvin had been avoiding eye contact.
“Poor Marvin, I’m still being foolish aren’t I. Here I am blabbering on about myself when only yesterday I devastated your love life.”
Marvin seemed to become more refrained and even began to pick at some loose skin over the fingernail on his left hand thumb.
Panic appeared in his voice. “Marvin we’re friends always have been, always will be. Nothing has ever come between us. We can sort this out. If the trips aren’t enough say and I’ll make it right.”
“It’s not that,” mumbled Marvin.
“Then what?”
“I was sleeping with Sarah.”
Lars was now honorary family member for the day, which mostly consisted of being allowed to sit on his dads pillow as long as he didn’t fart on it. To his left sat his grandmother and grandfather albeit they hadn’t moved from there spot for three years, on his right sat his mother and father. At the other end of the bin lid sat his younger sister, who was looking very annoyed. Being the youngest, weakest and a female meant she was going to get very little and most of what was left would have travelled through at least two mouths during all of the scoffing. He smiled at her anyway.
“Hmm fathffmm, halmmm bm orrrm namm too kingmm cmm rrrmmmnn.”
“Very well said Dad,” said Lar’s father congratulating his father.
“If I may,” interrupted his mother and waited for the nod of approval from the men. “We would like to thank god for blessing us with a beautiful, healthy family and watching out for us in our times of need. For keeping us safe, sheltered and most importantly blessing us with two wonderful children. Finally we are eternally in your debt for always allowing us to be believe they would make something out of their lives even in the darkest of hours. Amen.”
“That wer beautiful lass.”
Lar’s mother blushed.
“An’ now to the grub!”
Lar’s father lifted the bony, spoon like feature he called an arm into the air, signalling the start of a possibly the greatest feast which had happened in the Slums for the past twenty years, but suddenly the entire room turned green.
“~Please make your way to the designated culling area. Your family has been selected for removal. You have thirsty seconds to co-operate or your family will be violently annihilated. Thank you for your patience and understanding.~”
“Noooooo,” sreamed Lars.
“Finalmmm,” cheered his granddad.
“At least we got one last meal to cherish together,” swooned his Lar’s father to his wife.
The whole family with equally struggling conflicts managed to rise from their seats and gathered for a group hug.
“Maybe in another lifetime eh lad?” said Lar’s father trying to cheer him up.
The green faded ever so carefully into a bright orange.
“That maybe the best meal ever cooked in the history of our family, but I don’t wanna get annihilated do yu’s?”
And with that final warning the family rushed outside whence the beam laid out the path to the designated culling area.
Rupert’s face was a picture of pure shock that quickly time travelled through the entire history of human emotions. In return Marvin lifted his face from the floor and gleamed with puppy dog eyes. Rupert’s initial reaction was to slant his eyes into a glare, but the tears were building up and he was struggling to repress the cascade. They had reached an emotional barrier neither had the experience of dealing with. So Marvin took the first steps towards Rupert.
They embraced each other, pressing their bodies gently together and inhaling all the space in between. The hug lingered just long enough for the smell of fabric softener to stay inside their nostrils. When they parted Marvin and Rupert gazed into each other’s eyes and they knew no words could express what they felt. All the pair wanted was to savour the moment.
“After you Rupert.”
“No, I insist. You first Marvin.”
“Let’s do it together.”
Still holding an arm across each other’s shoulders they both gripped the handle with their free remaining arms. After one final look at one and another they smiled and pulled the triggers.
Crabby, Daynight and Skimpy followed the extraordinary firework show happening below. Beams of red light were bursting into the dense stick figure crowd from two cackling lunatics in a gun tower. Each individual pin shaped etch fizzled bright white while displaying all their paltry bones before they disappeared into oblivion.
“Such a good waste of chicken feed,” moaned Crabby.
“Aye, couldn’t they just walk into a cookin’ pot, then they’d probably make one decent meal,” added Daynight.
“Hey lads, look what I’ve spotted. Some geezer’s left us one of those body pack things out on a bin lid. Netty’s gonna be well pleased.”
“Ooo one of those health spa things, what a find mate.”
“Should give you a few hours peace while she pampers herself.”
“Yeah, then with any luck I might not get any peace, if you catch me drift lads.”
And so with the sound of laughter filling the air the bunch rounded of another uneventful day in their dreary lives.