A Shaw Thing – part 7 – Conclusion
A Shaw Thing – part 7 – Conclusion
Marcus’ story
You know, sometimes it’s good to have an arsehole of a parent, coz then you learn to stand on your own two feet. And if you watch them, you work out what you shouldn’t do. I’d learned enough from watching Dad that I was gonna have a better life than he did, and a better life than he tried to give me. Fuck yeah, I’d show him!
After the first old bloke, a couple of weeks later I noticed another one sleeping under the railway bridge near the old highway. He was a bit more awake, so we started talking, and he says how he reckons he’s not going to get through this winter. He’s really scared he’s going to just freeze to death one night.
We were talking on a Wednesday – that’s the day the old people get their government money and he had his, all fresh and untouched in his pocket – so I mentioned I knew somewhere that could take him in, that had heating and other people there. I got him interested and he asks where it is, so I said I couldn’t tell him, it was a secret, but for one week’s worth of his allowance I’d take him there and leave him and they’d have to take him in. I knew that silly bitch’d be too soft to turn him away. He agreed, I loaded him up in the shaw, he paid, and I took him and left him there. It was dark when we arrived so no one saw him walking up the path to the front door. Dead easy.
The next week, I found two more drifters in a cave on the other side of the railway line. It didn’t take long to convince them that there was a better place ‘on the other side’. And for another week’s allowance – from each of them – I puffed my fucking little lungs out lugging them up that damned hill. But it was worth it!
Dad couldn’t believe how much money I’d made off of the three of them. He started looking out for houses where there might be space for an old fella or three to be squeezed in and I kept my eyes open for likely candidates. Within a couple of weeks I was doing a run somewhere every second night. I was making a week’s allowance three or four times a week. It was fuckin’ awesome!
We stashed it away – we couldn’t let anyone know what we were doing or how much we had. That would have made us vulnerable. But Dad, fucking useless as ever, opens his mouth to one of his mates after too much brew, and the next thing you know, I’ve got fucking competition! Suddenly there’s two other fuckers doing what I’m doing and the market’s flooded. They’re undercutting me, too, so it’s even harder to get a pick-up.
Then the mayor finds out and calls the fucking cops and they step in and start blocking us. They smashed the shaw so I couldn’t pick any more old farts up. They did the same thing to the other bastards, the ones that set up in business against me. At least that was fair. And I had more skin in the game for longer, so I had more stashed away, so at least I was ahead.
As soon as the shaw got smashed, Dad got the money out of its hiding place, grabbed my little brother and we scarpered. We hitched a ride with a farmer going back out to the plains. Dad paid him just a quarter of a week’s government allowance for the three of us to go all that way – and the farmer couldn’t believe his luck!
We got talking to him, and he said how he needed help on the farm. He needed someone to ride the stuff out to the other towns every few days and sell it. He’d got a two room cottage with a wood fired stove in it, and two camp beds. Dad and I looked at each other. The man had a cart. And a horse. And a legitimate reason for us to move between towns …
Suddenly, Dad and me, we’re on the same page. I always hated him, thought he was a loser, but the poor bastard’s just got no imagination. Or he didn’t. He just needed someone to spark it.
Since the fuck-up when he let them others know about our little operation, he’s a lot smarter now. He doesn’t drink nearly as much brew, and he actually works. Yep, he works. And he’s looking after the money really well. We don’t spend too much – you can’t have people asking questions, but bit by bit, we add to the cottage, making it nicer. We buy good food and we’re all learning how to cook better. We bought an extra bed and now I don’t have to share with my little brother. Bonus for him, huh?
Our trips to market always have a paying passenger or two on the way out, or the way back. The farmer doesn’t know and what he don’t know won’t hurt him. But the way I look at it, we’re helping the poor fuckers out. Sure, they have to pay, but that’s capitalism, isn’t it? I think that’s what Dad called it. Anyway, we have transport, and we know how to move between A and B. And we know where there might be places between the two where hard done by drifters can get a roof over their heads. Sure, there’s always a risk that where we drop ’em, they may not take ’em in, but we say that upfront. And there’s no refunds. We can’t lose.
Dad used to whinge a lot about how good it was before the internet. I don’t know coz I can’t remember so I can’t compare, but if you ask me, life’s pretty fuckin’ cozy now!
THE END
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