Sally Figment

By John Hughes

As the title of this book implies Sally Figment..!
This book consists of > Serio-Comic Figments...
With outstretched minds and non truths, including, Mythology, Fairy Tales, Horror and Three (D) and fourth dimensional scenarios, Fabrications and Lies, which would also heavily involve the poor unattributed participating readers taking part in it..!
As above, I have incorporated what I think is a mixed sense of good humor and horror.
But most of all its compiled with condensed pure, Wit...

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781467884143

John Hughes

John Hughes was born in Colwyn Bay, North Wales, Great Britain in 1970.He has worked as a milkman, landscape gardener, newspaper photographer,occasional proof reader and a fish terminal goods inspector. He currentlylives in Oslo, Norway. His other works are listed as follows: POETRYAphelion (1992),Recuillément (1993)Black Tin Deed Box (1996)PrestonZeitgeist (1994) Money & Make-Believe (1994)Room Twelve (1995)The Fiend that He Became (1995) Poetry from Beyond the Dashboard(1996) Touché (1997) The Night is Young (1997) 58th Parallel (1998)The Plant Collector (1998) O Livro das Letras Casa (1999) Replica (1999)Passports for the Journey to the Mad Dam (2000) Flowering Off the Chrome(2000) Rolling Over the Bones & the Running Through Poems (2002) WhenHope Can Kill & the Midnight Sun Poems (2005) Orpheus’ Loot (2007) Death Rattle (2009)Skin of Teeth (2010) Singeing of Beard (2012)FICTION Aphrodisiacs’ Spaghetti (2001) The Wondrous Adventures of Dip& Dab (2002) Deeper Tangled Grass (2005)The Bloody Shoots Burst Out of Uswith Love & Bullets at their Roots (2010)

Book preview

Sally

Figment

Dynamic And Intensified

Reading stories

John Hughes

US%26UKLogoB%26Wnew.ai

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2012 by John Hughes. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 01/23/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4678-8413-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4678-8414-3 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Introduction

Prologue…

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Sally Figment was an incomplete ‘Blonde type, "Human being…

Where may I buy a blessed "Soul, she had asked?

Even a damned "lost, ‘Soul would suffice.

Even a damned, ‘And damaged, lost, Soul would suffice!

Where can I buy ‘hope and happiness?’

Sally was so desperate for a soul that she had even contemplated getting in touch with the darker spirit side of the underworld…

If her creator were to die, then so would she…!

Being a figment of my imagination and having no blessed soul, Sally Figment tries to take over the writings of my book and forces herself against ‘my will, into the written and unwritten literatures of some of my short, but intense stories, and of which includes terrible horror stories and comedy compositions combined;

This unwelcome intrusion by Sally Figment is in order to give my stories happy endings. "Ha…,

But will she succeed? ‘Yes,

‘I think not?’

At times she treats the readers of this book with the greatest and uttermost contempt.

So, ‘beware reader, as you yourself will be taking an active and participating part in it.

John Hughes, the Author of this book, takes total control of these entire Figment characters and writings that make up of this fascinating book, that is, ‘when Sally Figment is not about.

‘And remember the old adage."

‘A man can do anything that he wants to do.

‘As long as Sally lets him…?’

—John Hughes (The Professional consultant.)

DBS, RMC, HWE…

I’m a freak John…, ‘but I’m not a freak of nature, Why, and ‘What, in the name of ‘Heaven, or in the name of ‘Hell, have you made me become…?

Am I a ‘Monster… ???

‘Will I too, end up being cremated…?’

‘Will I too, be forgotten and thrown into the bright eternal Lucifer fire…?’

‘Like a torn out page from an unread Book…?’

Introduction

As the title of this book implies—Sally Figment…!

This book consists of > Serio-Comic Figments…

With outstretched minds and non truths, including, Mythology, Fairy Tales, ‘Horror and Three (D) and fourth dimensional scenarios, Fabrications and Lies, which would also heavily involve the poor unattributed participating readers taking part in it…!

As above, I have incorporated what I think is a mixed sense of good humor and horror.

But most of all it’s compiled with ‘condensed pure, Wit…

The readers will find to his or her—Horror, and or "Pleasure, that the basic Human and fictional characters portrayed in this book will come to life in their own minds and jump out at them…

The Author of this book progresses from the hard realities of life to the basic realities of broad fictional escapism…

Come with me all of you, and I will show you a totally different zany, but very sensible world in which we live, and in a world in which you have never been used to…,

‘But only if you dare…?’’

‘Please read on…

WARNING!

This book may contain some flash Photography…!

John Hughes; The Author of this book is a serving Professional and able ‘Seaman.

He is currently employed serving on board a Ship in the "North Sea, as ‘Chief Officer.

The abbreviations ERRV, Stand for Emergency Rescue and Recovery Vessel

In a nutshell it is a Rescue Ship…

Prologue…

John Hughes has been involved in, and has served throughout his seagoing career in many rescue incidents…

Serving and spending most of his lifetime at sea, he has served professionally and has been involved in the workings of Ferry’s, Tankers, Container ships, Liners, Luxury yachts, and large Bulk carrying Cargo vessels…

He has at times met some of the world’s most famous and some of the most notorious celebrities to date.

He was ignored by them all…

Attributes…

John Hughes, ‘a handsome professional seaman of note ‘has and had attended the higher College of Juxtapose paintings, "Liverpool College…

He also had attended the well known Drama and Art complexities, "Newcastle.

He has served and taught in the University of Science and seismology, ‘Cambridge.

He has served and was educated in the Nautical College in Northern Ireland, Jordenstown.

Higher Level of Navigation and Seamanship

John Hughes has, and had also been well educated in an Approved School… !

"This book is a purely fictional work of art except the historical introduction therein.

Any likeness to anyone living or dead; is purely co-incidental…

Chapter 1

"I’ Am Full Of It,

As My Story Below Will Prove."

Belfast Northern Ireland, Pronounced, ‘Norn Iron, by its beautiful citizens…

Names, ‘John Hughes, why in heavens name hide it… ?’

"Reader, ‘you might find out the reason ‘Why, later on in this witty and fabulous book… !

I was born in Belfast at home by one of my parents; I lived at 69 Chadolly Street on the Newtownards road…

I was a Dick then, and still am a Dick, at least that was in the eyes of my Mum…

Mum’s Maiden name was ‘Dick, but she was always a Hamilton that was her middle name; her father was from Clydebank, ‘Paisley in Scotland, and that was his Surname, Dick"!

Other close relations came from Glasgow…

Scots Irish they called us…

When I was about six years old, my aunties whom I had just adored, were brought up in a quaint little fishing village named Portavogie, ‘they used to seat me on a high chair, every one of them was fat and wore long flowery colourful dresses which reached to their boots, and every one of them had their hair tied up in a Bun…,

I remembered the time that they had pointed their wagging fingers at me whilst shouting in my face at the same time, that I was a Dick and ‘Not a Hughes…!

Even at that age I was only too aware of what the word "Dick, meant…!

They had always argued, from what side of the Family that you had come from.

The years passed so very quickly, and before I knew it, I had arrived at the ripe old age of twelve and a half…

My father was an ex fisherman who worked in a cotton Mill, and his Sole, job consisted of pushing a large Bogie," on wheels around the Mill, The Bogie had been laden full of fleece, reels and bobbins, a job that he liked might I add… ?’

When he had been made redundant from his job, he took me to the Belfast dole office for company, and for him to sign on for social security benefits and jobs seeking allowances’.

I will never forget the awful embarrassment that I felt when he was asked as to what his last job was.’’

‘Hesitating, he replied awkwardly to the dole officer that he had been employed as a plain and simple,

‘Bogey, Man…!

‘Would you be working at the present by any chance Mr Hughes?’ the little bespectacled man sitting behind the desk asked my dad, ‘No, no not at the moment my Dad added, but in this beautiful weather and it being so hot for this time of year; If I were" working?’

I would probably take at least a couple of weeks off…!

And anyway my friend, if I were working, I wouldn’t be in here looking for Benefits’, ‘Would I…?’

My proud Dad had glanced up at a large poster which was stuck up on the wall in the Dole office…,

There was a large black drawn silhouetted picture of a man’s face on it, the large typed words below the face had read…

North American man wanted for ‘Burglary and Arson… ,

‘Why does all the North American men get all the good jobs?’ dad mischievously asked the little bespectacled man sitting fidgeting nervously with his pen behind his desk.

With his redundancy monies he bought a Paper shop, but alas, the ‘Paper shop, "It blew away!’ ‘As did his money.

I was a ‘Paper,’ boy also, ‘and I too kept being blown over by the wind… ?’

My father later got a job working in the Belfast Shipyard, he told me that he had known a man that made a little bit of money on the Side by stealing certain items, the security man attending the gate knew that the weasel faced man was up to something fishy, but he didn’t know what…?’

Every day of the year this weasel bearded faced guy wheeled a Wheelbarrow through the strict security gates, the Security officer would always stop him and search under the plastic covering that was always draped over it, the suspicious security officer had always found that nothing was amiss… ?’

But little did this security officer realise that the guy was actually pinching Aluminium ‘Wheelbarrows."

He had been stealing and wheeling different brand new Wheelbarrows from out of that security gate every day for the last seven years. ‘Wheeling and dealing he had called it!

He had made a few pounds with that scam I can tell "You.

A lowly paid labourer, who had also worked in the shipyard, had also made a lot of money from working a different, but brilliant scam…

Being a lorry driver, it was his job to ferry massive sized iron chains and steel girders to and fro to any ships that were being launched.

In those days there were plenty…

These chains and steel girders were to be attached to the front of the ships being launched.

They were to be used as Drag, chains, thus preventing the ship from travelling to quickly from off its chocks, and thus to prevent the ship from speeding too fast into the water.

The Security officer never thought for one moment that anything was amiss when he had seen the driver drive out the gate with just a lot of rusty chains and steel girders as its cargo…

In fact, the driver was taking the iron chains and girders to the scrap yard to be sold after the ships had been launched.

He had made a few pounds with that scam I can tell "You.

My Father was also as proud as punch when he had told me that he and some of his friends who had actually worked on the Belfast built iceberg stricken ship, and which had attachments to Cunard, ‘this ship was called the Titanic.

The Titanic…,

‘The Titanic’s passenger capacity was around two thousand four hundred plus, and whose gross tonnage was 46.329 Tons, this vessel was captained by Edward Smith who was over sixty years of age, he was the Master in command and in charge of her at the time that she had sank, ‘he did not fear the sea, but he did hold the greatest respect for it…

The black and buff coloured, four funnelled Titanic had set sail from Southampton on the 10th April 1912 Bound for New York on its maiden transatlantic voyage;

Two days later it had hit an iceberg and sank…

This happened four days after she was launched from the Belfast shipyard.

It was noticed by the author of this book ‘that those who had been engaged in the building of this fine ship always referred to her as "Her going down…

Whereas others with a financial interest and gain in it ‘referred to it as ‘ship sinkage…!

The Titanic had been blessed with a cruising speed of around 22 Knots but had reached the amazing speed at one time of doing 27.3 Knots with the wind and tide with her, the speed of the vessel was also dependent on the ships stokers and the quality of coals that was to be burned, as far as we know 27.3 Knots had never been entered or recorded in the Bridge Log book, as the governors regulating the speeds of the engines were supposed to be fixed to a minimum of twenty two Knots, therefore any damage to the ship or the ships engines would fall far foul of their insurance policies, ‘so insurance companies of which there were many, were not truly informed of such things. In fact, sometimes they were kept in the dark about the events of these matters…

Therefore; the archives relating to the sinking of the Titanic should not in my view be taken as gospel as to the true facts as to what had happened on that sad catastrophic day…

‘So, a lot of good and bad literature was written in good faith by many people that had been involved with the financial and insurance aspects of it all, although they didn’t have all of the true facts put in front of them at the time…

Sometimes the archive’s relating to maritime history and indemnity does not always ring true.

It was a fact that the Titanic was not out to contend for the famous "Blue Ribbon…

The ‘Blue Ribbon, was awarded as a trophy to the fastest ship making an eastward sea crossing of the Atlantic ocean on a regular commercial voyage.

This marvellous soon to be doomed gigantic Titanic ship had been built in, ‘and by the famous Belfast Shipyards.

The Ship had belonged also to the famous White Star Line ‘whose Board of directors in which I held with great respect and esteem.

"My Father had told his close friends truthfully, ‘or was it a lie?’ ‘That he was also the one and only person to be allocated the job of actually inserting the last rivet into the vessels hull before it had sailed off on its ill fated Maiden voyage…

‘Where did you place the last rivet they all seemed to ask?’

‘In the last "Hole, he would reply laughing out loud…

‘He ‘also, had a very good sense of humour.

A lot of Avenues, streets, rows of houses and double tiered rows of shops had closed down due to the events as to what had happened during the war years.

"The Blitz,

Belfast had been heavily bombed during the war years, Easter Tuesday fell on the 15h August 1941, over Nine hundred good Ulstermen and Women had died in these air raids, but prior to the 15th of August, ‘Easter Tuesday, ‘Lord Ha Ha, had proclaimed that he had wanted the people of Britain which included Northern Ireland as being part of the United Kingdom to enjoy their Easter Eggs, Lord Ha Ha, had meant and referred to the Bombs as Easter eggs.

The Luftwaffe air force had continuously carried on with their dastardly deeds night after night, but it was the peaceful and most generous people in Northern Ireland that happened to be living in Belfast in the year 1941at the time, were the ones that had suffered, it was no fault from their personal selves that those poor people had became victims of the devilish Luftwaffe airstrikes…

The so called Easter eggs, "Bombs, that were dropped on Belfast City and the shipyards by the German Luftwaffe was the reason in which Resulted in over 900 people being killed.

The ack—ack anti aircraft guns had a minimal effect on the Luftwaffe Air force.

And outside London itself, Belfast had probably seen the worst mass killing of its citizens by the Blitz regarding as to its size and population in relation to the rest of the United Kingdom.

Hull and Coventry also suffered very heavily.

Hull city in itself had suffered eighty two bombing raids, with well over a thousand people being killed and thousands more wounded.

"But it wasn’t just the German Luftwaffe Air force that had caused death and mayhem in Northern Ireland…?’

Paramilitaries, ‘both Loyalists and Nationalists also played their part during the later troubles in the city of Belfast and other Counties.

The Good Friday agreement, "not to be confused with the Anglo Irish talks, was brought into force and signed in Belfast…

This Agreement was also known as ‘The Stormont Agreement.

The Agreement had in effect been signed on the ‘10th of April 1988.

The D.U.P, which was known as the Democratic Unionist Party, had been the one and only party to oppose this Agreement at that particular time…

The Agreement didn’t come into full effect until the 2nd December 1999 which was in line with the St—Andrews Agreement in the year 2006 was Scotland involved in these Irish troubles?’’

‘Of course it wasn’t…

‘The mind boggles.

I love the Scots, I love the English, I love the Irish, I love the Welsh; and I fell in love with the most beautiful Cornish Lady that anyone could ever wish to have met…

‘So what’s my problem…?’’

‘I don’t have any. ‘I also love Aberdeen, ‘I also love America…

‘I have no preferences as to the countries that I was referring to, as they were typed and placed in alphabetical order…

"The Belfast Shipyards In those days had taken more than their fair share of destruction and mayhem as the Shipyards were also targeted and bombed very heavily in the war years.

Some of Belfast’s main trading commodities were that of Linen, Rope works, Shipbuilding and Hi Tech Armoury plus Dairy products, but it was the Shipbuilding, and the fact that Belfast’s industries had a high Tec programme which involved building commercial and fighter planes, Belfast had delivered heavy Arms and Air to ground Missiles to the Allied countries involved with the war, weapons also included Air to air Missiles, ‘and that in itself would have made Belfast a legitimate target for the German Luftwaffe Air force to continue with their ‘Air raids…!

It was also a time in which the Belfast Shipyards had been hustling and bustling with thousands of workers consisting of highly trained craftsmen and labourers alike, the Shipbuilding boom that was on at that time had been reaching its peak.

"When some of the shipyard workers had taken their early mornings and afternoon break’s from work, they would enter into a small wooden shed to make their tea…

This was far better than the times in which they had used to stand outside enduring the hard winter weather elements including, snow, and the other cold and bitter icy spurious elements in the open air…

They would all have stood around a large coal or log Brazier in a circle, or stand around a fire which was lit and strewn haphazardly on the ground.

They drank out of tin cans which they had used instead of ‘tea cups, two holes had been punctured at each side near the top of the can, in which seizing wire was threaded through to make a loop which acted as a handle, the empty Baked Bean or Pea cans would then be filled with fresh water, a wooden stick would then lift the can by the loop and placed over the blazing fire for the water to boil, ‘tea Leaves would then be inserted,’ all shipyard workers drank out of tin cans…!

Sometimes a couple of fresh eggs would then be placed carefully in the tin cans and boiled along with the tea leaves, the tea leaves were just left in the can for colouring, Soup was also made in this way…

The Shipyard Harland and Wolff had been established, 31st May 1861.

People in the Shipyards at that time had to be more innovated in those days in order to better themselves; Innovation, acumen, and motivation were the more likely keys to success, basically it was the only way to get a head start in life.

Having innovation and motivation also meant that you were able to earn a decent living wage…

The year was now 1964, a new tyrant of a Foreman had arrived on the Site, he had wanted workers working under him to call him by his proper title, Mister Dodgem was his name. There were supposed to be twelve workers working under him in his squad, but when he had taken a head count of the workers, there were only eleven workers to be found!

One worker was missing…!

The last place that he had searched for the missing man was in an old wooden shed whereupon he came across the lazy worker who had apparently been in hiding, the worker had been sitting facing a small black and white flickering portable Television set, and with his fists clenched tightly he shouted and swore aloud Go on you my beauty, as he watched the horse racing…

What do you think your doing asked the Foreman…?’’

I’m watching this horse race, it’s the The Grand National, I’ve got twenty big glorious gorgeous pounds on the Favourite…! "It’s a cert to win… !

Come inside quickly my man, just in case that new bloody twisted Tasmanian devil of a foreman see’s you…,

We don’t want the likes of that bugger sticking his nose about where it’s not wanted.

Do you know who I am?’ shouted the Foreman menacingly.

‘No,’ I don’t know who you are, and I don’t bloody well care who you are…!

‘Who in heavens name are you then, and what the bloody hell do you want… ?

‘Speak up man…!

‘I’m Dodgem the Forman…!

‘The worker who was still engrossed in the Grand National race replied.

‘We’re all dodging the foreman, "I’m dodging the Foreman too, come on in my matey and rest your oversized fat backside buttocks for a while, your safe in here matey, pull up a chair for pities sake, the new daft moron of a Foreman would never ever think of looking for anyone in here…!

The Foreman had stood in utter amazement and stared at the workshy man.

Come with me instantly and lift your money Mister…

But the lazy loafer who was still watching the race on television pointed towards the screen and uttered, ‘I can’t lift my money yet for heaven’s sake matey, I mean "look, the race isn’t even over yet…!

"Times where tough though, not only for our Family, but for everyone else who had lived in the street in which we had lived, and who had very little or no money, some people had no jobs to go to at all either, and some had very large families to feed on the small pittances of the wages that they had earned.

Go next door my Mum would say, and ask our new neighbour for a loan of two slices of bread until next Friday?’

‘Oh and don’t forget to ask our nice new neighbour to cut the slices of loaf with a Jammy knife…?’

I did as I was bid, but when I had asked the old Lady for the two slices of bread, ‘her face broke into a broad grimaced contorted sort of wry smile, I thought that she was troubled with wind at first when I looked at her face.’

‘Here’s your bread son, just Jam, it in the door on your way out…!’

‘She laughed…

People really did live on the breadline in those days…

"Reader, you will just have to take every sentence in this book at face value.

We had no halcyon days in those times.

We where that poor, that there were no measly crumbs of bread left after a meal in our house, I can tell You.

"We were, or had been the only house in the street that didn’t have any’ mice…?’

It was just that there were no crumbs left for them to eat, or was it that we had eaten them ourselves?’

I will let the Reader’s decide that for ‘themselves…!

We also could not afford to give out too much money to charity, I remembered a pretty little thing of a girl coming to our front door, she was holding a large tinny bucket with a few pence lying at the bottom of it, she had been going around all the doors collecting for the new local swimming pool which was soon to be built, she looked up at my Dad who by chance was standing leaning idly against the front door at the time, she wore a sorrowful look on her pretty face.

Pleadingly she asked him, can you contribute anything at all towards our new swimming Pool, "Please Mister…?

She flung her large bucket upwards towards my Dads face; ‘Dad as quick as a flash whisked the bucket from her hands and disappeared inside the house and only to return with a bucket full of water…!

"Another time my Dad was standing at the front doorway of the house when his next door neighbour had approached him, Hi, Jimmy my lad, I’m doing a little bit of decorating in my house as the wife wants it done…,

I know that you recently wall papered your own house Jimmy, both of our houses were built in the same mode Jimmy, so we have exactly the same number of rooms, and the walls are the same size, so what I want to know is how many Rolls of wallpaper was it that you bought for your living room…?’’

Dad was quick to reply, I bought six Rolls of paper Harry, Harry thanked him and off he went in his car to order the wallpaper…

Two days had gone by; Harry again approached my Dad who was standing idly at the doorway. ‘Jimmy my lad, you told me that you ordered six Rolls of wallpaper for your living room?

‘That I did Harry.

‘Harry began to explain to my Dad that when he had finished wallpapering his living room wall, that he had a complete Roll of cellophane wrapped wallpaper left over… !

That’s a very strange thing Dad replied, for I had a full complete Roll of wallpaper left over as well…?’

Isn’t that an uncanny thing Harry…?’

"Seriously though, the streets and the houses in which we had lived in, had been built on wet swampy marshy grounds where the Belfast Shipyards were founded, and if you were to lift the floorboards in any one of those houses, then you were greeted with black stagnant water which lay just about six feet down.

The total area had been infested and over run with large amber coloured Cockroaches and black Rats.

‘Did you know that ‘Rats are a communal species…?

‘Rats,’ always had a bad stigma about them as they where the black culprits that had caused the deaths of many thousands of people.

The Plague, ‘which was also known as the "Black Death, ‘killed hosts of people in London, and more than half of the population in the whole of Europe…

The citizens of Australia, ‘Sydney, didn’t miss the black deathly Plague either, as they were also heavily affected by the Plague in the year 1901…

The Plague had been very contagious in its dealings with people.

The Bubonic plague was in itself caused by rat fleas which caused a deathly fever.

The Pneumonic, Pneumonitis, plague, caused a lung infection in which peoples lungs were infected by a fatal and deadly virile virus.

Some of us younger kids even kept rats as pets, ‘Caged of course!

Keeping rats as pets in those days was a common thing; it was only tolerated by the parents as long as you kept them clean and Flea free, ‘then it was ok.

Some people used to put Rat poison Rodenticide, down to kill the Rats, the poison did a good job of killing the rats, but it didn’t seem to make any difference to their numbers as rats where classed as communal creatures, "Meaning that if you where to ‘Kill, ‘say, up to fifty rats, they would quickly breed again to make up their lost numbers in the commune that they had lived and served in…

Nature, isn’t it a wonderful thing…?’

"We couldn’t kill all of the rats, so it had become a habitual custom and ritual in our street and in other streets as well, that every Fortnight, some of the men would trap at least two rats and place them tied and alive into a large black Cauldron of a cooking pot which was filled with water, the cooking pot became a permanent fixture sitting on the cobblestones outside in the street, a fire was then lit around the base of the pot, and as the water became warmer and warmer until it became steaming and boiling hot, the rats would then let out loud blood curdling screams which warned other Rats to stay away…!

‘As I said,’ we couldn’t kill them all, but after saying that, ‘We wouldn’t see a rat for weeks on end…

I had also noticed to my dismay at the time, that my pet rat had suffered sever withdrawal systems after hearing the trapped tortured rats screaming…!

One day whilst playing with and teasing my pet rat, my Father had opened the front door unexpectantly, ‘thus allowing my pet rat to escape, I chased after it and only to find that it had scurried and disappeared into our next door neighbours house…

I didn’t venture after it, as the Lady next door was against keeping rats as pets.

It was a few days later that I had heard the screaming and the heinous yelling’s of a hysterical woman!

Her husband who was the worst for drink and who was apparently suffering from a bout of the Heebie-Jeebies, had just entered their house.

‘What’s the matter wee yee woman?’ ‘What’s all the sceamin an yellin aboot? (Sic)

‘He was a Scots immigrant…

‘There’s a big rat upstairs in the laundry closet, its bigger than next doors cat, ‘go up and kill it yee drunken fool…

The drunken inebriated scud of a Scott put his hand on the laundry closets door handle, but he hesitated in opening the door.

He looked drunkenly downstairs at where his wife was waiting apprehensively…

‘Open the front door woman he slurred, for when I open this closet door, I’ll chase the black vermin of a bugger out the front one…!

‘Don’t be daft man, ‘you’re drunk! ‘How in the name of heavens, would a stupid rat know where the front door to the house is?

‘Well how the bloody hell did it get in then woman…?’

"We had been so very poor in those days that we had to sell our Television set in order to buy a brand new video recorder…?’

One Christmas morning I had awoken early, silently I crept downstairs like a thief in the night and peeled back feverishly the greaseproof brown wrapping paper from off the one and only present that I was about to receive.

‘It was my Action Man

‘I opened it, and only to find that the box was completely empty, "Well not completely empty, for there was a tattered note which lay inside it.

‘Action man Deserter," it read…?’’

On one particular Christmas that we had sat around the table to devour our Christmas dinner, It really was so sad, we were that poor that the only scratchings of food that was to be found on the table was watery, ‘see through, Tomato soup.

A solitary lone Candle which was stuck in the middle of a saucer, and which was stood alight in the middle of the table as we supped, ‘but just as soon as Mum and Dad arose from the table after finishing their meal, my brother and I quickly doused the greasy Candle and hungrily ate it…!

We were that poor, ‘that if you didn’t wake up with a Hard on at Christmas, you had nothing to play with for the rest of the day…!

Some neighbours used to put their empty milk bottles outside on their front doorsteps for the Milkman to replenish, as Christmas was just around the corner, a coin was placed under the bottle in the way of a tip for the milkmen’s early mornings and yearly deliveries.

"Milkmen, please forgive my brother and me, if you didn’t receive ‘your, tips from all the houses in the street…?’

"Some family’s used to break into their own pay as you go Gas and Electric meters, some families had spare keys to them and some Family’s had not, the families with the spare keys used to borrow the money from out of their meters and replace the same amount of monies before the meter man came to collect; this was done quarterly. ‘The Family’s with no keys just smashed their meter boxes to pieces and claimed that their houses had been burgled…

"I had remembered in the distant past, that when my Father was celebrating in the local pub with his old friends…;

Marcus Eric Gallagher had just joined the company.

‘Hi Jimmy my lad, ‘how you doing…?’

‘Not too bad Markey wee Jimmy replied as he sucked and gnawed away at a Pigs Trotter. Some Pubs sold Pigs Trotters in those days! Markey had bought a round of drinks for those that were present and set them down on the cluttered tabletop which was already smothered and swimming in pure toxic alcoholic beverages…

Everyone in turn bought their rounds of drinks; Marcus Gallagher’s voice rose above the rest and shouted towards wee Jimmy’s ear, guess what ‘Wee Jimmy?’ some rotten bugger of a thief broke into my gas meter at home, ‘smashed it with a hatchet they did, took all the money from out of it they did, and just at the time that I could be doing with a wee bit of money myself…?’

I know who broke into your meter Markey; wee Jimmy insisted; Markey’s eyes went into a fit of black spiralling mad rage as he made fists with the both of his large veined hands.

‘Who was it Jimmy?’

‘Who was it?’

‘I’ll bloody well kill him if I ever get my hands on the bugger.

Wee Jimmy pointed and prodded Markey hard with his finger at and into his fat obese stomach and said, "It was you Marcus! It was you that broke into your own fifty pence Meter…!

Wee Jimmy pointed to the two large bulging pockets at the sides of Marcuse’s coat and said…

For every time that you went and bought a round of drinks Marcus, you paid for it all with Fifty pence pieces, "Look, your pockets are still full to the brim with them…

Marcus Gallagher then sat down on his seat meekly, his hands were that large, that when he lifted his Pint glass of beer, the Pint glass looked as if it were just a half pint that he held in his hand…

Marcus just smiled meekly into wee Jimmy’s face stupidly…

"During the time of the Penny and the Fifty Pence meters, one man broke into a house where a frail old spinster had lived alone, the dear old lady was approaching ninety two years of age, she could not walk too far, with or without her walking stick, and her eyesight was practically zero, she could just about manage to get to the Post Office to lift her pension money…

I shouldn’t be doing this to such an old woman he had thought to himself, especially to a Geriatric, "But then I do need the money, and after all Charity ‘does, begin at home he mumbled to himself. It didn’t matter to him that he had broken into her house on Christmas eve, every day was the same to him. He furiously jemmied at the meter’s steel lock and wrenched vigorously from off its wooden support from the wall, he pulled out a large deep tray, his eyes opened wide in disappointment when all that he had seen, ‘was only one Penny lying solely in the middle and lying at the bottom of it, his eyes had now began to fill with tears, he had realised that what he was doing to the old woman was all wrong. He swung his torch around the room, ‘no Christmas decorations, no tree, no presents ‘the old dear could not even afford such basic luxuries…

Harry Benet, put the both of his hands into the bulging pockets of his coat, and with his large hands now full of pennies and fifty Pence pieces that he had burglarized from other houses that day, ‘he rattled them noisily into the old Ladies tray…;

He knew that the old Geriatric Lady herself ‘would benefit very well out of the deal, ‘the Meter official would return her overpaid monies…

Merry Christmas, he muttered under his breath as he stole away into the night.

Mary Moor was poor, ‘she had been a spinster all of her life, she was approaching; ‘Majestically, ninety two years of age, ‘she was sadly unmarried, she had conceived four of her children out of wedlock, ‘two strapping boys and two buxom girls, each and every one of her children had reflected the mirrored images of herself, ‘that is, when she was a young and chaste fair maiden. ‘She had, ‘in her old age, Really, ‘nothing to look forward to…

She couldn’t even afford such little luxuries like Christmas decorations, never mind paying out money for presents…

She didn’t want too much out of life, ‘Yes, I’m a geriatric, but I’ve still got all my marbles she thought. She had found a penny in the street, then another. Three days later she had found an English Five Pound Note and a fifty Dollar Bill in a shallow pool in the street…

Some poor American tourist must have lost them, if only, if only I knew the address of the person that had lost them; I would no doubt return to them their monies…

Mary Moor studied the water sodden writing on the fifty Dollar Bill ‘which was now being dried out by the heat of her candle.

Georgina Washington…! This money belongs to Georgina Washington…!

‘No, wait a minute;

Mary Moor re—adjusted her glasses…

"George Washington, ‘my goodness, ‘that’s who this money belongs to…

George Washington.

"Nearly made a mistake just then…?’’

The photograph should have given me the clue…?’’

Poor Mary Moor divided the new found gains with her beloved kindred.

Mary Moor was still able to get about; she was in the Post Office collecting her old age pittances of a pension; ‘when, all of a sudden, a robbery had taken place…

She had watched intensively as the robber greedily stuffed the large bundles of paper money into two hessian sacks that he had brought with him just for this purpose…

She had also watched the robber panic and run for the door when the loud shrieking alarm had been sounded by the Post Mistress…

Her eyes had followed, and quickly outpaced him as he ran up the steep embankment towards his getaway car.

‘Something was wrong…! ‘Something was just not right…

For when she had watched him getting into his escape car, she had noticed that he had only one bag of money with him…!

Poor Mary Moor, put two and two together…

What happened to the other bag of loot?’’

Mary Moor was now sitting alone in her house; she reclined exhausted in her armchair after counting the money that the robber had dropped…

She had felt the warmth of the one and only candle that she had left.

Probably about another ten minutes of light left before I have to turn in…

Can’t sit up in the dark all night…

Must be over five thousand pounds here; ‘that is if my counting is correct…?’

I will give one thousand pounds to each of my four children, and I will keep one thousand pounds to myself. Yes, Yes, Yes…,

I’m finally going to have a happy "New Year at last…

No more tea and biscuits for me, for I am going to spend, spend, and spend.

The finest cloths, ‘no more charity shops for me, the most expensive restaurants’, the list is endless, I can now afford to get my electricity turned back on…

‘I won’t ever have to sit in the dark anymore…

‘I will never buy another candle in my life.

‘I will be able to afford Christmas lights and the likes…

Mary Moor, ‘not now poor…

Stared at the one and only candle that had lit up her lonely humble abode…

Next day, ‘Poor, ‘Mary Moor, returned the monies to the Post Office with her apologies…

Mary Moor wasn’t ‘that, poor though, ‘as she was rich in mind, ‘Body, "Soul and Spirit…

What price, contentment is…?’’

I came into this world with nothing; ‘I leave with nothing, ‘but I leave behind…!

My love for my children, and I leave behind, "My dignity, ‘and my Honour…

I take with me my faith, and my trust in the Lord…

Amen…

My job at that time had consisted of doing a newspaper round and of which I did prior to going to school. I also did a paper round after school.

I had been actively selling Tabloids from the age of seven; thence I had to get up very early in the mornings at around 0500Hrs to meet the large Ferry at the docks which brought the tabloids over from the Mainland…

Some people say that Cockroaches can fly because they have got wings, well I can tell you that some breeds can’t. The Belfast household Cockroaches arch their backs and put their brown antennal noses to their hinder parts, when released they make a sharp cracking sound and leap about two to three feet into