Tattooed Tails: short & even shorter global stories

By Tim Devron Green

Tim has spent much of his life travelling on behalf of multinationals, and these short stories are inspired by his global journeys and adventures. They are gripping tales with dark twists, wicked humour, warmth and intrigue.

Don't start reading this fascinating collection until you have a few hours spare, as you simply won't be able to put it down. Not surprisingly, Tim's short stories have already featured in critically acclaimed anthologies.

Published reviews of Tim Devron Green's recent novel Drowning

"It's hard for me to imagine an audience to which Drowning would not appeal."
"Absolutely brilliant."
"This a compellingly dark novel which, once past page 13, is impossible to put down."
"This is a page turner with an interesting plot which twists and turns - just the thing for a long flight."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Legend Press
• Release date: Aug 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781787190788

Book preview

Acknowledgements

1. Abdul and the genie

Abdul was more attracted to the Genie than to anybody he’d ever met. His lack of legs was a bit of a turn-off but his heart was palpitating, sweat was running down his back and he felt faint with light-headedness. And, he couldn’t talk at all.

Look, you rubbed the lamp, Abdul. Tell me your wish. Your lips are moving but I can’t hear anything. What do you want?

I want you, stuttered Abdul. You’re beautiful.

Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just a spirit, hissed the genie.

But I’ve always loved spirits, Genie. I go to Bahrain once a month just to drink them.

For God’s sake, make a proper wish, will you Abdul!

OK. I’ve made one, beamed Abdul.

Listen. You have to tell me, you idiot, or I can’t grant it. That’s the way it works.

All right. Peace in the Middle East.

Very noble, but it’s supposed to be something for you, Abdul.

I get it. How about ten million Euro in a Swiss bank account?

Now you’re talking. It’s yours.

What’s the number, Genie?

Sorry. Only one wish! I’m gone. Whoosh.

Abdul realised he should have asked for a voluptuous blonde. Why hadn’t he? He loved blondes or thought he did. For sure, ten million Euros in an account he couldn’t access wasn’t much use to him. But, as he emerged from the cave a voluptuous blonde walked right up to him and asked if he was a tour guide.

After spluttering for a full thirty seconds he proclaimed, Your wish is my command.

Take me around that submarine. I’ve never been on one.

I can’t. It’s Saudi navy. I’d be shot on sight! gasped Abdul.

Talk to somebody. Allah? frowned the blonde.

That’s a point, said Abdul. When the others are at prayers, I’ll get the Pakistani captain to take us – for a consideration, of course."

Wonderful, said the blonde. Now, may I play with the periscope?"

Really, madam, I hardly know you! But why not? Up periscope!

2. Maid in Japan

The Marketing Director was highly intelligent but totally devoid of any common sense.

Everybody in the Tokyo office understood that our company President did not condone drinking at lunchtime, expected us expatriates to take an hour lunch – like the local staff – and be back punctually.

After a brilliant academic achievement, followed by highly successful marketing of consumer goods, for multinationals for two decades, Terry Rutman had only been with our Japanese company or ‘kabushiki kaisha’ for three months. He had foolishly committed to rent a palatial house – with massive garden – at enormous expense to the company and for three years. Then he allowed his three uncontrolled children to wreak havoc. The neighbours – all well-bred Japanese – did not appreciate the noise or the untidiness.

Traditionally in the local area, residents took it in turn to clean the sidewalks of leaves and litter and regularly sweep them. Dogs certainly did defecate in Japan but the owners never left their ‘calling cards’ on the street. Rutman’s kids dropped candy wrappers all over and the three dogs – surely one or two Great Danes would have been enough – left Mount Fuji-sized piles of excreta right where it spattered.

The neighbours discreetly let the Company’s directors know they were underwhelmed; indirectly – the Japanese way – rather than a formal complaint, but very powerful anyway.

Our President started fuming, especially as the distributors of our products said they found Rutman abrupt to the point of rudeness. As this feedback was being assimilated, Rutman’s lunch breaks expanded and he took to smoking large Cuban cigars on his return to the office.

Japanese seldom raise their voices but the President’s objection to bonfire-size smoke in his room was obvious to us all, except Rutman.

His final mistake was to offend Japan Air Lines – a key customer of ours. Not only did he lose the company a pile of money on a deal concluded – after a particularly boozy lunch – but also he accused them of lying about the price agreed.

The dismissal was unusually fast. We were all asked to assemble in the open plan office, wondering what was happening.

The President came in stern-faced and – even though his English was excellent – spoke through his secretary, Miss Takeda, who interpreted for the expatriates,

Mr Rutman has not settled satisfactorily into the company and leaves us today. He will not attend the office again. It is best for all concerned that the very large house he committed the company to for three years in Gotanda will be occupied by Mr Green. He has been looking for a new place since his own lease expired. That will be all. Thank you.

I think I may have wet myself hearing the news. The place was superb, perfect for mega parties. Ten times too big for a bachelor but happy days – or so I thought!

The property manager took me to see the place and meet the Japanese maid. I had actually attended a house-warming party, mainly for expats, presumably to kick-start his social life. Unfortunately, both he and his Chinese wife had an arrogance on first meeting which put off most people.

I had not met the maid before but know that it wasn’t her job to help at parties. Tall for a Japanese, she was handsome without being pretty but pretty determined to be unpleasant, a smile seeming to be her last intention.

Right, I said jovially to the maid, Let the tour commence.

You can walk through yourself. I’m busy. Ask me questions when you come back. I will be in kitchen.

Perfect start. I had expected to communicate with her in Japanese but her English was much better than my Japanese and, anyway communication just didn’t happen.

The upstairs had six bedrooms, left and right off a long, carpeted corridor, which stretched right down to the master bedroom in the distance. A most luxurious room with a walk-in or almost jog-round wardrobe and an en-suite bathroom, with a Jacuzzi big enough for a football or netball team’s after-game bath.

One door off the corridor was locked and there was no key on the outside. After I’d inspected the ground floor and garden I asked maid-san,

Please open the locked room for me to see.

No. I cannot. Mrs Rutman left many personal belongings there which she will pick up later.

I will not touch anything but I want to see inside. So open it now.

I will not. I don’t work for you but for your company.

We’ll see.

Great start to the relationship and I’m impressed that I kept my calm!

I explained that I needed to see inside the locked room and they agreed it would need to be arranged. It wasn’t. The first weekend I was in the big house the maid told me on the Saturday,

Make sure you clean up Sunday. That’s my day off and I don’t clean up your stuff that day.

No problem. You can clean up on Monday.

"I will not do that. And, also I only wash if full machine load, otherwise waste of company electricity and water.’

No. There is only me and I will need you to wash when I have laundry to be done.

Talk to the company was her response. I did and explained how unpleasant she was.

Ah, Green san, you don’t understand Japanese maids.

"Excuse me. I have had maids all over Asia and nobody has been like her. She must be told to do what I ask. I always treat maids well and she will be no exception if she starts to behave reasonably. Now when will that locked room be opened for me to inspect please?

Very soon.

In the fullness of time?

I don’t understand.

It’s fine.

My Japanese girlfriend was an air hostess and only stayed at my place occasionally. She was given equally unpleasant treatment by the maid and my personal arrangements were openly discussed with whoever in the office took the maid’s calls. As a private person I was totally underwhelmed by that.

Eventually my girlfriend said the maid had pushed her down the stairs during an argument and I decided that she shouldn’t stay with me again until the maid started behaving reasonably.

When friends came over for barbecues and badminton on the lawn she growled as they prepared food and wouldn’t do anything to help.

The Japanese staff’s attitude to me had become cold, which made working with them a challenge and I asked the President if he could find a solution to the impasse.

What do you suggest, Green san?

She has to be fired, sir. I am happy to tell her, with your permission.

It is not the way we do things in Japan, but I agree you can warn her to improve or leave.

I went home feeling empowered and asked her, again, to open the locked room.

I told you no many times. Why you can’t understand?

This is my house and you will do what I ask or you can leave. I have discussed this with the company President.

I am not leaving. This is my country; not yours. You leave!

In that case you are fired. In the morning I will bring the property manager and he will make sure you go.

"I don’t think so!

That night I didn’t sleep comfortably, listening out for creaking floorboards, leading to my bedroom door, which I had locked? But did she have a key? Probably. And a Samurai sword!"

In the morning she didn’t appear and wouldn’t open her door. So I said goodbye through it, feeling elated.

When I got to the office I told the President’s secretary to let him know that I had fired her. Then I asked the property manager to go and see her off the premises, to be sure he stayed until she was gone and to change all the locks. Thirty minutes later he was back in the office.

I thought I asked you to escort her from the place and change the locks.

Green san, you don’t understand the loss of face for her. She asked for time to leave with dignity.

She has had plenty of time to behave reasonably and chose not to. Now will you please go back and get her out of there. And please phone to tell me everything is OK.

If she was smart she’d know my Chinese porcelain collection and Korean calligraphy is valuable. Hopefully she’s not that smart!"

The property manager phoned to say he had gone. There seemed to be no damage to my possessions but, Sorry to tell you Green san there is a funny smell in your bedroom.

Great. I’ll be right there.

All my valuables were fine but, as I walked the long corridor to the master bedroom I smelt paint.

Please don’t let it be my porcelains or calligraphy!"

The maid clearly didn’t understand expats. She probably thought that because I had lots of them that clothes were important to me. So she had spray painted all my light clothes fire engine red and all my dark clothes – right down to underwear, socks and belts – vivid white.

I laughed with near hysterical relief as I knew everything could easily be replaced and most of my clothes needed that anyway.

I’m so sorry Green san, said the property manager who thought I was crying.

No problem. Easy to buy new things. Only problem is I only have the clothes I am wearing now and this is my oldest suit! We both laughed longer and louder than necessary but it cleared the air.

I phoned the President to ask for the day off, in the circumstances and he said he would be at the house straight away. He arrived with the Finance Director, who bowed very long and low to me in a gesture I took to be contrition for not hearing me previously and taking her side.

So sorry Green san. What do you need from us? asked the President.

An air fare to Hong Kong and a week off to replace my clothes please. And I would like the mad maid prosecuted for damaging my property.

Hong Kong will be fine and we will talk to the police immediately.

I doubted the last part, as it would not be the Japanese way. But I insisted and they actually did talk to the police.

When I returned to the office the next day the staff stood and applauded me and the President gave a speech, interpreted by Miss Takeda.

"Green san