Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Sunday, August 4, 2013

Neighbours

by Paul Tristram

Did you hear about the murder down in Penzance?
some bloke killed his girlfriend and disappeared
with her three year old son. Apparently he had strangled her
two weeks previous but they only discovered the body night
before last, so as you can imagine there has been a big man
hunt all over Cornwall for him. You see, the bloke is not the
real father of the little boy who he has got with him, so
everyone is worried in case he does something to the little
boy. Anyway, the reason that I am telling you all this, is because
they caught up with him yesterday, by that I mean, they found
out where he has been staying for the last two weeks. Though
I am afraid that when they got there (The Police) he had moved
on. So you never guess where it was? Right next door to me!
The police were all over the street yesterday asking
questions. They came into this place and were asking the guy
in the next room who I was? (because I am new and no one
knows anything about me) and I was in bed sleeping off
last night’s nightmares.
IT JUST GOES TO SHOW, YOU CAN’T TRUST NO ONE!
I watched the news last night and they showed a photo of him
and I recognized him, I’ve been passing him in the street, I
never did like the look of him, although I don’t like the look
of anyone.
Well, all of this has now really messed up my system, you see
I am in this place and all of my neighbours are straight-heads,
you know, they sit around on the steps and talk about TV
aerials and steam engines and bollocks like that.
So I have been personally giving everyone bad vibes, to stop
them from trying to get me to join in with their shit, because
they did try the first few days but I soon put a stop to that.
So anyway I’m coming back from town and there they are, of course,
sitting on the concrete steps like birdshit and one of them
looks at me and says hesitantly
“Did you hear about the murder?”
“What fucking murder?” I replied curiously.
And with that the other  three stand up and start
talking over each other in a bid to tell me about the murder,
the police and that the bloke lived next door.
But of course the price of learning this information is
absolutely ridiculous, I’ve got them calling me by my Christian
name now and they knock on my door (When I’m typing,
can you believe it? they actually disturb me when
I am working, just to ask how I am? or what I’ve been doing
with myself all day?)
Anyway, I hope he hasn’t done anything to the little boy
and I hope they catch him soon.

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