Monday, 27 May 2013

Good TV

11:16:00 Posted by Colin Davies , , , , 6 comments

 “He's a nasty piece of work” a bent over grey haired old lady said to her friend “A right wrong en'”
So poked the blood soaked teenager with her walking stick. A slight groan came from the pile of broken body.
“Couldn't have happened to a nicer fella.”
To two old ladies turned and carried on their walk towards the church leaving Gregory Fras to feel the pain he had caused others. That's how the ladies saw it, justified the non interference policy.
“God will take care of him” said the old lady
“Or not.” replied her pale blue haired, tweed wearing friend.
Everybody around the Peacock estate had been intimidated  threatened, bullied, attacked, robbed or verbally abused by Gregory at some point in the last 10 years.

Since he turned eleven he's been nothing but trouble. Shoplifting was his first offence followed very quickly by assault on Mr Johnson, the shop keeper that caught him. There was no punishment that he was scared of, no one he respected or listened to. The congregation from the local church viewed as 'evil incarnate'

The two old ladies were not the only ones to leave him in the heap by the side of the road. Others went to help, but as soon as they recognized who it was, the left him there, not even curious as to what had happened.
“He's got what he deserved.” Sneered Mr Dodson to his wife. “Come on, the sermon starts soon.”

Gregory became aware of the clicking of high heels on paving slabs. They stopped, there was an exaggerated scream then the heels clicked faster and towards him. Through blood filled swollen eyes the local tyrant could make out the shape of a woman wearing an ill fitting red wiggle dress, her face, though blurry, was layered thick with makeup and her blonde hair was sliding off the left side of her head as she checked him over for injuries.
She spoke in a deeper voice than she screamed, “Gregory,” he said, “Gregory, can you hear me, it's John”
The damaged hard man tried to speak, but the injuries left by the hit and run driver hurt to much.
“Don't try and move, I'll call for an ambulance,” held Gregory's hand “I'm here, stay with me”

Gregory could hear John talk to the 999 operator on his pink iphone  He knew it was pink because only last week he'd given John a hard time about his gender reassignment. Called him a poof, queer, pedo. He'd taken his hand bag off him and emptied its contents over the pavement. And as John bent over to pick of the pink telephone, Gregory had kicked him in the face, breaking his nose, making him fall over and laddering his tights.
Gregory mustered up some strength, “John, I mean, Jane.” He caught, “Thank you.”
“Let's save all that for later, ambulance is on its way.”
“You're a wonderful woman.”
“Save your strength,” John held back the tears, Gregory was the first one round here to acknowledge him as a woman, the rest either ignored him or called him an abomination against god. “you can try and pick me up when you better”
Gregory pulled a slight smile.
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6 comments:

Colin Davies said...

Sorry about the roughness of this. Had to throw it together.

Lisa McFleeca said...

Love this! Am about up to my limit at the moment with intolerant bullshit. A married lesbian couple, best friends of mine, threw a bit of a bank holiday do at their house over the weekend, a nice variety of orientations invited, and someone had the cheek, in their home, to start spouting off how they couldn't stand the gays thinking that his personal prejudice gave him free pass to be rude. The worst part is that these girls are the kindest, most loyal friends who are there for anyone when things go wrong, so unlike many of the "Christians" I know.

This piece captured everything I've been feeling perfectly this weekend (although as the blood started running I did check the bottom of the post thinking Standard must have been covering for you!)

L :-) x

Colin Davies said...

Thank you, I'm glad the idea come across. Be prepared, I'm planning to out sick Standard in the future. :)

Adele said...

great and inventive flash-fiction. Incidentally - The Booker Prize now has a category for stuff just like this.

Colin Davies said...

Booker prize? One can but dare to dream. :)

Ashley Lister said...

i see what you did there. clever.

Ash