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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Adventure
- Published: 03/09/2013
RETURNS
By Stephen Foster-Pilkington
Receipts, receipts, receipts. Receipts for petrol, receipts for snacks, receipts for sunglasses, receipts for razors and erasers. The glove box, bulging under the strain, was almost impossible to close – likewise the ashtray. He couldn't keep the damn things out. They were invading the space they produced – all tax deductible of course. The ashtray’s companion, the cigarette lighter had too become an accounting accessory - keeping devices charged that could calculate over-charge. The car was a mobile office that Danny Good had to learn to live with. But not for long, he hoped. Those receipts weren't kept for nothing.
Every year around the middle of January the whole vehicle would be cleared out and the amassed debris would be sent to Danny’s accountant with a note saying: “Please recycle these and turn them into ONE BIG ONE”. In fact the only environmental thought Danny entertained was the way the tax man cut down so many trees just for evidence.
As he returned home driving down his town’s high street which hadn't yet become totally over run by chains and charity he made his final left turn at the bottom of the high street. He likened turning left to entering a passenger plane. Left was the way the first class winners went. He found that ironic. The left usually scared Danny. But left at the lights was the way to one of his many icons of success. The luxury apartment complete with security gates would, as the estate agent remarked: “keep the plebs out”.
In contrast turning right led to an area of town with roads that Danny renamed: Losers Lane, Spongers Avenue, Bone Idle Close, Handout Crescent and Free loaders Drive. He had nothing but disdain for anything that reduced his financial power. He needed the money to buy all the accessories that made women initially attracted to him - the ‘executive’ apartment and the flash vehicle. In fact females did find Danny both charming and even amusing until he finished with them for a newer/younger model.
Soon it was time to empty the glove box and ashtray again. He kept a close watch on his accounts. No way was he going to get stung again, especially this year. The rebate that he calculated to be worth several thousand would be enough to secure yet another icon of success – the four wheel drive he had his eyes on.
The receipts were placed in careful order and in the appropriate categories. His accountant, who was a master of not allowing any conceivable expense and allowance to go unclaimed, would do the rest. All you could do then was wait. He thought exams had finished after he had completed his GCSEs. Not that they had any effect on his career. While sitting his exams he simply tore up the answer sheet and spent his time turning it into playing cards. As far as Danny was concerned you only needed to be aware of the three Rs which now stood for Revenue, Receipts and Rebates.
The days went by as the weather became colder. He eagerly anticipated a certain correspondence to appear. Instead a local free sheet dropped on to the mat bearing the headline “Local children to freeze as cuts bite”. He glanced at it and came to the hasty conclusion that those were the children with parents who blew all their handouts down the pub or betting shop. Why should he care if their parents didn't? He knew this from the front pages of the national press:. ‘Chav Dads’, ‘Irresponsible Mothers’, ’Single Mum Costs the Tax Payer £500 a week!’ ‘Benefits Family Make Neighbourhood a Misery’ They were all taking the Mick as far as Danny was concerned. He went out and earned every penny and made sure the tax man would take as little as possible from him.
Then on a snow bright day a white envelope appeared. His accountant was a genius. The four wheel drive had turned from a subconscious dream into a very conscious reality. He called his prospective clients to rearrange meetings and headed straight for the bank. Nothing was going to stop this one big one landing safely on the credit side of his account. In a matter of weeks his money had given him the self-esteem he could rarely find any other way. Success bred success. As far as Danny was concerned if you felt successful you became successful and he was right. Orders increased and receipts were kept. The new vehicle's larger glove box allowed even more space for them. Supply equalled demand.
As the weather became warmer he noticed more people about and more pedestrians he left waiting at zebra crossings because, as Danny argued, "they don’t pay road tax, do they?" Then early one evening, while driving down the high street on his way home, he saw a police barrier up. This was very unusual. Road works yes, but not police. What he saw behind it he could hardly believe - youths firing missiles of anything they could find at the police who were slowly retreating with improvised riot shields. A shop on the corner had had its window smashed in. It’s till lay on the floor, and like the shelves was empty. Danny suddenly became scared. Scenes like this didn't happen in this town that still had its own butcher, baker and Constitutional Club.
A policeman came walking towards Danny’s vehicle only to be knocked on the head by some glass object. As it hit, it burst into flames, setting fire to the police officer who was now on the ground trying to roll it out. Danny didn't know what to do. Only a moment ago he was enjoying the cocooned environment of his four wheel drive. Now he felt he was obliged to become part of an emergency operation. He looked around, bits of paper trying to free themselves out of the glove box, ash tray and all the extra compartments his new vehicle had. If a Molotov cocktail came through his opened sun roof, that would be that. No more four wheel drive. He quickly pressed the switch that brought it closed then a loud noise at the back of his vehicle shook him. He looked behind to see more rioters coming from the rear. Danny felt surrounded. Instinct took over. He checked that the vehicle could still move -it could.
The policeman in front of him had managed to rid himself of the flames and got up again with smouldering clothes. He took his helmet off which had the effect of making him look more human than law enforcer. He was appealing to Danny to do something. Exactly what he should do, Danny didn't know.
The rioters approaching from behind were now at Danny’s vehicle. They encircled it, kicking it while looking inside with envious stares. Danny tried to look straight into the eyes of one who was right by his window. There were no eyes just a Spiderman mask. Spiderman bashed his fist on the window, acting as a signal for his fellow rioters to begin rocking the vehicle. Danny wondered where the police were. He paid enough tax for them, damn it. The rocking and rolling gathered in momentum. All the rioters moved to his side of the vehicle and overturned it to loud cheers. Danny suffered a bump and feared what might follow, but the rioters just moved on.
After negotiating the upside down door, Danny crawled out of the vehicle. Lying on the road he saw the policeman without the hat on being kicked repeatedly by a couple of the rioters. Why can’t they get the army to sort this lot out? An ambulance with its flashing light was trying to get through but couldn't because Danny’s overturned ‘monster’ as one of the ambulance men referred to it, blocked the way.
A week later, volunteers in the town had cleared the riot debris and Danny took his new but battered vehicle to a local repairer. He asked for an estimate and was initially shocked but remembered what his insurance premiums were for.
He phoned his insurance company and told them the story, eagerly telling the person how they should hang rioters because these were the scum who kept insurance premiums so high. Unfortunately he failed to garner any sympathy from the operator but instead, to his shock, he was told his policy did not cover damage due to civil unrest. After swearing and being reminded that the call was being recorded he cut the operator off. Immediately he called the repairers to cancel the work. It was too late. He asked them to remind him how much it would cost. Danny threw his mobile to the floor after they replied “I'm sorry mate, but it’s going to be ONE BIG ONE”.
A week later he picked up his repaired four-wheel drive, reluctantly paid for it and demanded…… a receipt.
Returns(Stephen Foster-Pilkington)
RETURNS
By Stephen Foster-Pilkington
Receipts, receipts, receipts. Receipts for petrol, receipts for snacks, receipts for sunglasses, receipts for razors and erasers. The glove box, bulging under the strain, was almost impossible to close – likewise the ashtray. He couldn't keep the damn things out. They were invading the space they produced – all tax deductible of course. The ashtray’s companion, the cigarette lighter had too become an accounting accessory - keeping devices charged that could calculate over-charge. The car was a mobile office that Danny Good had to learn to live with. But not for long, he hoped. Those receipts weren't kept for nothing.
Every year around the middle of January the whole vehicle would be cleared out and the amassed debris would be sent to Danny’s accountant with a note saying: “Please recycle these and turn them into ONE BIG ONE”. In fact the only environmental thought Danny entertained was the way the tax man cut down so many trees just for evidence.
As he returned home driving down his town’s high street which hadn't yet become totally over run by chains and charity he made his final left turn at the bottom of the high street. He likened turning left to entering a passenger plane. Left was the way the first class winners went. He found that ironic. The left usually scared Danny. But left at the lights was the way to one of his many icons of success. The luxury apartment complete with security gates would, as the estate agent remarked: “keep the plebs out”.
In contrast turning right led to an area of town with roads that Danny renamed: Losers Lane, Spongers Avenue, Bone Idle Close, Handout Crescent and Free loaders Drive. He had nothing but disdain for anything that reduced his financial power. He needed the money to buy all the accessories that made women initially attracted to him - the ‘executive’ apartment and the flash vehicle. In fact females did find Danny both charming and even amusing until he finished with them for a newer/younger model.
Soon it was time to empty the glove box and ashtray again. He kept a close watch on his accounts. No way was he going to get stung again, especially this year. The rebate that he calculated to be worth several thousand would be enough to secure yet another icon of success – the four wheel drive he had his eyes on.
The receipts were placed in careful order and in the appropriate categories. His accountant, who was a master of not allowing any conceivable expense and allowance to go unclaimed, would do the rest. All you could do then was wait. He thought exams had finished after he had completed his GCSEs. Not that they had any effect on his career. While sitting his exams he simply tore up the answer sheet and spent his time turning it into playing cards. As far as Danny was concerned you only needed to be aware of the three Rs which now stood for Revenue, Receipts and Rebates.
The days went by as the weather became colder. He eagerly anticipated a certain correspondence to appear. Instead a local free sheet dropped on to the mat bearing the headline “Local children to freeze as cuts bite”. He glanced at it and came to the hasty conclusion that those were the children with parents who blew all their handouts down the pub or betting shop. Why should he care if their parents didn't? He knew this from the front pages of the national press:. ‘Chav Dads’, ‘Irresponsible Mothers’, ’Single Mum Costs the Tax Payer £500 a week!’ ‘Benefits Family Make Neighbourhood a Misery’ They were all taking the Mick as far as Danny was concerned. He went out and earned every penny and made sure the tax man would take as little as possible from him.
Then on a snow bright day a white envelope appeared. His accountant was a genius. The four wheel drive had turned from a subconscious dream into a very conscious reality. He called his prospective clients to rearrange meetings and headed straight for the bank. Nothing was going to stop this one big one landing safely on the credit side of his account. In a matter of weeks his money had given him the self-esteem he could rarely find any other way. Success bred success. As far as Danny was concerned if you felt successful you became successful and he was right. Orders increased and receipts were kept. The new vehicle's larger glove box allowed even more space for them. Supply equalled demand.
As the weather became warmer he noticed more people about and more pedestrians he left waiting at zebra crossings because, as Danny argued, "they don’t pay road tax, do they?" Then early one evening, while driving down the high street on his way home, he saw a police barrier up. This was very unusual. Road works yes, but not police. What he saw behind it he could hardly believe - youths firing missiles of anything they could find at the police who were slowly retreating with improvised riot shields. A shop on the corner had had its window smashed in. It’s till lay on the floor, and like the shelves was empty. Danny suddenly became scared. Scenes like this didn't happen in this town that still had its own butcher, baker and Constitutional Club.
A policeman came walking towards Danny’s vehicle only to be knocked on the head by some glass object. As it hit, it burst into flames, setting fire to the police officer who was now on the ground trying to roll it out. Danny didn't know what to do. Only a moment ago he was enjoying the cocooned environment of his four wheel drive. Now he felt he was obliged to become part of an emergency operation. He looked around, bits of paper trying to free themselves out of the glove box, ash tray and all the extra compartments his new vehicle had. If a Molotov cocktail came through his opened sun roof, that would be that. No more four wheel drive. He quickly pressed the switch that brought it closed then a loud noise at the back of his vehicle shook him. He looked behind to see more rioters coming from the rear. Danny felt surrounded. Instinct took over. He checked that the vehicle could still move -it could.
The policeman in front of him had managed to rid himself of the flames and got up again with smouldering clothes. He took his helmet off which had the effect of making him look more human than law enforcer. He was appealing to Danny to do something. Exactly what he should do, Danny didn't know.
The rioters approaching from behind were now at Danny’s vehicle. They encircled it, kicking it while looking inside with envious stares. Danny tried to look straight into the eyes of one who was right by his window. There were no eyes just a Spiderman mask. Spiderman bashed his fist on the window, acting as a signal for his fellow rioters to begin rocking the vehicle. Danny wondered where the police were. He paid enough tax for them, damn it. The rocking and rolling gathered in momentum. All the rioters moved to his side of the vehicle and overturned it to loud cheers. Danny suffered a bump and feared what might follow, but the rioters just moved on.
After negotiating the upside down door, Danny crawled out of the vehicle. Lying on the road he saw the policeman without the hat on being kicked repeatedly by a couple of the rioters. Why can’t they get the army to sort this lot out? An ambulance with its flashing light was trying to get through but couldn't because Danny’s overturned ‘monster’ as one of the ambulance men referred to it, blocked the way.
A week later, volunteers in the town had cleared the riot debris and Danny took his new but battered vehicle to a local repairer. He asked for an estimate and was initially shocked but remembered what his insurance premiums were for.
He phoned his insurance company and told them the story, eagerly telling the person how they should hang rioters because these were the scum who kept insurance premiums so high. Unfortunately he failed to garner any sympathy from the operator but instead, to his shock, he was told his policy did not cover damage due to civil unrest. After swearing and being reminded that the call was being recorded he cut the operator off. Immediately he called the repairers to cancel the work. It was too late. He asked them to remind him how much it would cost. Danny threw his mobile to the floor after they replied “I'm sorry mate, but it’s going to be ONE BIG ONE”.
A week later he picked up his repaired four-wheel drive, reluctantly paid for it and demanded…… a receipt.
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