Why I Survived
The Evil House (Continued)
by Michael S.
Why I Cannot Pay My Loans
Now, you know
the problems I had had with the house in Cartside
Road. The evil one, that drink my beer without a
second thought. Well, ever since it burned down
quite majestically I've had trouble
putting money together.
because most of the money I have, which I work
hard to earn (and you wouldn't believe how hard I
work to convince my mum to give me some money!),
has to go to my now ex-landlord, to whom I still
owe a fair bit of money. But he has been so
kindly about the whole thing. He's even only
threatened to kill me the once.
You write to
me telling me I owe the Company three thousand
pounds. I don't remember having three thousand
pounds in my life, letting alone spending it. Are
you sure there has not been some mistake? You
never know, you might have been going to collect
debt off some fellow, and took the wrong
direction and lambasted innocent ol' me by
accident. I'm sure it has been known to happen.
But the main
problem here seems to be the money. Sorry, I don't
have it. All the money that my dear mum works her
behind off to earn goes straight to the pockets
of Mr Raculad, my ex-landlord. He's told me to
never go to see him during the hours of daylight,
to refrain from eating garlic pizzas, and to quit
leaving the wooden stakes I was playing about
with from my joining days around. He really is
such a lovely harmless old man.
All the money
goes to him. I swear. So please forgive my lack
of cheques at this time, and I hope you will find
it in your heart not to send me to the Courts.
Why I Never Went to Court
I got your
letter the other day, saying that since I was not
paying the debt collectors, I was summoned to
appear before the Court this coming September 21st.
Since you may not recall, allow me to exposition
my story for you: I can't pay my alleged debts
because I am paying back rent to my less alleged
ex-landlord, Mr Raculad, as a favour for him not
killing me for destroying his house. Which was
evil and started the fight, but that is neither
here nor there.
So to get this
letter, demanding swift action, is really a bane
to me and my poor mums life. I mean, all the
money that she goes out and earns for a living,
then hands to me, is really being syphoned out
the door to Mr Raculad, and all that is left is
spent on survival substinance. And besides, I don't
recall ever seeing this £3000 in my life. Do I
look like the type who could spend £3000 in a
night? Didn't think so.
there was that night where me and ol' Haulgy were
up at the Arms and...nah, on second thoughts,
just forget that little story. I'm not the type
to see three grand, let alone have it.
honestly, I will not be able to attend the
upcoming Court summons. On account of my ill
health (got the chills somewhat dreadful, mums
Poltergeist's been hiding my jumpers), my looking
after mums house while she pays my way, and the
like. Mum is going to go and see Mr Raculad
tomorrow to sort out the trouble, and hopes you
will forgive us both for this irregularity.
Why Mum Wont Answer The
I know that
you phoned our landline twice this week, looking
for mum. I'm sorry that no one was able to answer
the phone to you. I miss my mum. She died this
week you see. I loved my mum, it's a terrible
partly my fault. I forgot to mention to her that
Mr Raculad was a vampire, and she was no longer
for this world. All my own damned fault.
Mr Raculad has
moved out. This means I no longer pay his back
rent. This is just as well, since with my mum now
dead, no one was able to pay for it. Well, I
could always get a job, but you know, we're in
the middle of a recession. Jobs are hard to find
for the needy. By sitting around with the drink,
why, I'm doing some other poor soul a favour! An
act of kindness from the bottom of my heart for
some warranted stranger needing a bit of luck.
Sitting around on the dole is my way of giving
charity to others.
But yeah, mum's
gone. Deaders. Mr Raculad is gone too. It's just
me, hanging around mum's old house. Thankfully,
she's paid the full mortgage on this place, else
I'd need a job. I've been working hard, rationing:
I've sorted the dole money out into one bottle of
Scotch a day. A man has to ration in
across the ruins of the Cartside Street house the
other day. An evil place, the source of my
downfall. The blackened ashes and mortar laughed
at me for all to hear. I gave the nearest brick a
kick, and it stubbed my toe. The evil house won
Why I'm Away from There
I thought I
should give you a little heads-up, on account of
you probably being a little concerned because I
never attended the recent Court Summoning, or
answered the phone, or even showed up at the wee
supermarket on Sinclair Drive for the daily
bottle of Scotch. Well, I have a good excuse. You
see, I'm in Antigua.
How I got here
you wont believe me. Let's just say the rumours
of the interstellar teleport in George Square are
true. Or I fell on-board a new ship on the Clyde
and was here before I knew it. Whichever you
But it is just
as well I am here, for I have strange forebodings
about the country I left. Aye, Britain. Which
else? You see, I'm pretty certain the Deputy
Prime Minister is a vampire. Aye, Lord Hastings
himself. Well, don't sound so funny in response.
It makes perfect sense to me. The whole bloody
world (excuse the pun) is blind to the every day
super normalities running around like
irrelevances. Well, I see them all right. I see
this entire planet for what is, some kind of
giant Matrix like device, in which we are all
slaves, and nothing is ever as it seems.
Oh hang on a
second, I need to go get a drink. Hell, if this
is the Matrix, and it has Scotch of this quality,
then long live the Matrix.
I am glad to
be gone from Cartside Road. Let those evil ruins
torment someone else for a time. I am now sharing
a flat with this old guy called Mr Ralucad. He
seems slightly familiar, but is friendly and
harmless, so I should think.
In fact, there's
a party at our place after sunset tonight. I can't
I am finally free of the evil house!