by Reed Bosgoed
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The Benefactor
After a fabulous six month stay in her majesty’s finest penal establishment, it’s finally time for me to go home. While it is nice to be out from behind bars, I don’t exactly have any home to go back to. No job either. The second my boss at the cinema heard what I did he sacked me. Pissed me right off, it’s not like getting twatted by a stolen monkey makes me any less qualified to tear tickets. Oh well, when the movie of my life gets made, I won’t let the ugly bugger show it.
My little brother is supposed to be picking me up outside. I wonder if he’ll be happy to see me. His standard operating procedure has always been to blame me for his various and sundry fuck ups, so I assume if he decides to show up, he’ll be less than friendly.
To some degree, I’ll miss the lads here. Not that I would ever let any of these filthy bastards anywhere near me on the outside. At any point in the future, if I hear the words “Ape Escape”, I’m going to run like my ass is on fire.
There's Tony now. I'll have to make sure not to crack any jokes about the chair. It's going to be difficult to avoid asking him how things are 'rolling along'. Be polite Clyde, this is your brother.
“Hello Tony. Thanks for coming.” Fine then, don't hug me back you bitter prick. I was just trying to be gracious.
“Stuff it. Just get in the van.” Bite your lip and do what he says. You need a place to stay Clyde. Just pray he didn't burn all of your stuff the instant Sarah's family dropped it off on his doorstep.
“I like the van. Nice colour. How much did it run you?” Not a word. Look at his eyes. It's like he's trying to set me on fire with laser vision or something.
“You could answer the question Tony. It wasn't a complicated one. Or you could sit there and glare at me. That works too I suppose.”
“It's not my van. Your fat friend Travis lent it to me. You think I have the money to afford a handi van? I can't even work anymore thanks to you.” As I suspected, it's already time for the blame game.
“Thanks to me? I didn't force you to put money down on everything from football to celebrity death pools did I? Nobody twisted your arm Tony. You've got nobody to blame but yourself for your habit and the consequences that came with it.” Much like I've got no one to blame but me for getting involved with Travis' stupid scheme. Hold on. Did I just have an epiphany? Fuck me, I think I did.
“Go to hell Clyde. If Ian Mckellen had gotten hit by a truck during the UEFA cup I would have made a fortune.”
“Fair point, but he didn't did he? He's still alive and kicking. And here you sit, a broken, bitter bastard in a squeaky wheelchair. Picking up your perpetual failure older brother from prison after his latest cock up.” Come back at me hard Tony, let's get this over with now. No, don't start crying you little pansy. When they broke his legs, they must have cut off his balls too.
“You're right. My life is in shambles Clyde. Got beaten to a bloody pulp, I'm out of work, and to top it all off, I still owe a ton of money to my bookie. What am I gonna do?” Damn it, now I'm balling like a baby too. Don't leave the poor bugger hanging Clyde. Give your little brother a hug.
“I know that I let you down Tony. I thought I had a sure thing with that twenty grand, but it all went so horribly wrong. I'm in no better a spot right now than you are. If we pull together we can figure something out. I'm sure of it.” Don't let on that you have no idea what that might entail. Just keep squeezing the poor little gimp.
“Alright, you're on. Now let's get the hell away from this awful place. We'll talk about everything more when we get to our flat.” He even called it 'ours'. It's been so long since I had such a warm fuzzy feeling inside. Maybe everything will be okay in the long run.
“Sarah dropped off all my stuff at the flat, right? How about a few drinks and a bit of a Doctor Who marathon when we get home?”
“Sure, sure, sounds good. But she didn't drop off all of your stuff. She sold off all of your comics.” And just like that the warm fuzzy feeling inside disappears. I'm going to KILL that bitch.
After all the bad blood over the years, it's still a riot hanging out with Tony. He still swears like a sailor and talks like a tough guy, even though he's half a man now. Good for him, I say. Best not to let things break your spirit.
We drank for hours. Worked out all kinds of plans for the near future, some realistic, others not so much. I highly doubt either one of us is going to marry a billionaire heiress anytime soon. Not that I would even if given the opportunity. No way Clyde Simmons will ever become part of the military industrial complex. I don't care how sexy Tony thinks Kaley Angelista is, she's the spawn of Satan. What we really need to do is get some jobs so we've got some money coming in.
“So you're sure it's alright if I stay here until I get back on my feet?”
“Of course Clyde. We've got to stick together.” Now for the tough question. Don't hate me for bringing this up Tony.
“So how much do you still owe your bookie?” Don't look at your watch when I'm talking to you, look at me.
“Ah, yes. I suppose it's about time we talked about that. I still owe them around five.”
“Hundred?”
“Thousand.” Not too bad. We can pay that back in due time if we pool resources.
“Five thousand is quite a bit but we can manage.”
“No. Not five thousand. Five hundred thousand.” There is officially no God. Well there could be, but if there is he's certainly got a really shitty sense of humour. No wonder the little prick has been so agreeable. He's in deeper than he's ever been.
“How the hell did you manage to owe that much? What were you betting on?”
“All kinds of things. Sports, elections, which songs would make the top twenty. Hell, I even made a pretty big bet on how long your prison sentence would be. What can I say Clyde? I hit a patch of bad luck. Then another, and another. I guess I went double or nothing a few too many times huh?” Stop laughing you ass, this isn't funny.
“There's no fucking way we can make that kind of money Tony. You're screwed! We need to get you out of the country or something.”
“It's not just me that's screwed. When you told me you had that twenty grand, I told my bookie that you would be paying off the debt for me. So as far as he's concerned, WE owe him five hundred thousand.” Fabulous. So I'm a dead man. You sure do know how to ruin a good day, don't you Tony? Who's that knocking on the door at this hour? We must have disturbed the neighbours.
“You ass! You unbelievably gigantic ass! Why in the hell would you do that? Now we're both dead!” Now he's walking away from me.
“Fuck who's at the door Tony! They can wait.”
“I'm expecting someone Clyde. It's related to my debt.” He even invited his bookie over to join us for drinks, genius. Might be better to die now. As opposed to walking around with a target on my back for the foreseeable future. Wait, is that Travis? Is that a priest's robe he's wearing?
“Oy Clyde. Y'alright?”
“Do I fucking sound alright to you, you twat? What are you doing here?”
“I came to speak to you Clyde. About the next step in your holy journey. The last glorious leg of your service to the great one. Today you join the ranks of the chosen Clyde.” Odd. I've never heard Travis talk like that before. What great one?
“What the hell is wrong with you Travis? You're creeping me out.”
“If you could leave us Tony, we have some delicate matters to go over with your brother.” Does he mean the royal we or was he talking about some manner of imaginary friends? Travis must have cracked while I was locked up.
“You got it Travis. I'll go pick us up some more lager. Listen to what the man has to say Clyde. It's important.” That's just perfect. Leave me alone in the flat with a man in an oversized bath robe who refers to himself as we. Thanks ever so much Tony.
“Sooooo... what do you need Travis? That's a lovely robe by the way, very nice embroidery. Is that a sun on your chest?” Those wild eyes he's got are ma
king me nervous. Don't make any sudden moves Clyde. You might be in danger here. Keep the phone nearby in case you need to call 999.
“Not a sun Clyde. It is the face of God. You will know her as I do soon enough. But there will be time for that later.” I'd better make sure to keep Travis away from any sharp objects.
“Tony informed me of his debt issues Clyde. I can help you with that, or rather, I know someone who can.” Is it just me or is it getting incredibly hot in here? I could swear the temperature has gone up by at least ten degrees.
“Who might that be? Is it perhaps the queen of Sheba, or Zoltan, overlord of the crab nebula?” Jesus, that's a crazy laugh. That's it. I've dialed nine, nine. If this gets any weirder, I'm hitting nine again.
“No Clyde, nothing like that. Do you recall the benefactor of our little environmental club?” I recall that the son of a bitch never paid me.
“You mean the one who sent us after that Angelista lab? The one who left Patrick and I to twist in the fucking wind?”
“Yes, that's him. He has a new job for you Clyde, a much more important one. What you do will change the world, and you will be richly rewarded for it. You will earn enough money to pay off your brother's debt many times over.” It's definitely getting hotter in here by the second. I'm dripping sweat like a faucet and my drink on the coffee table is boiling. Why isn’t the heat affecting Travis? I think the time has come to dial that last nine. Play along Clyde, keep him talking until help arrives.
“Ok. I’ll bite. What is this job your mystery man has for me?”
“I’ll let the great one’s chosen son explain that to you himself. Can you feel him Clyde? He’s nearby.” The door to the flat is burnt to a crisp. I can almost make out the figures of two men in the haze of smoke pouring in. At least I hope those are men.
The first one is a man at least, some manner of Spaniard in some very fancy clothes. This place is filled to the brim with smoke, yet it doesn’t seem to be affecting him at all. I can barely breathe and yet he’s huffing and puffing like he’s the big bad wolf. Yuck! He’s spitting all over everything in the room.
I can almost make out the second man now... Now I know where the heat has been coming from. He has the shape of an ordinary person, but his skin. It’s filled with fissures that glow bright red and there are flames coming out of his eyes. Ok. This has to be some kind of dream or hallucination. This isn’t real. I’m going to close my eyes and focus, then I’ll wake up and this will all be over.
Didn’t work. I’ll try again.
Nope. Still here. One more time.
“Open your eyes Clyde. The great one wants to speak to you.” It’s looking right at me. What am I supposed to say?
“Clyde Simmons!”
“Uh... yes?”
“You have been chosen!” I get the feeling things are about to get really, really complicated.
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For the conclusion to Clyde’s story, pick up the upcoming ebook “The Purging” coming June 29th 2013.
