“A year and two months, mate. Which means I’m only getting £1200 until I can get a new job. That’s gonna be hard. ‘Coz you know what work’s like around here – there isn’t any - Especially for a man my age!” Dad expressed with anger in his voice.
“B…B…But why, Love?” Mum asked
“Apparently, the company’s losing money and they’re having to close down three factories. Ours was one of ‘em.” Dad responded.
Mum gave a deep sigh as she sat down next to Dad. “It’ll Be Alright, Love. It’ll Be Alright…” Who was she trying to convince - Dad or herself? I sat down on the sofa and wondered how we were going to cope. I pondered for a while, until it clicked and then I knew what I what do. I would beg around the London streets. So I told Mum and Dad, “I’ll make it better, don’t worry.” So I walked up to my room, still in thinking mode to plan where and when I was going to beg. A few days passed and then I knew exactly where I was going to beg at different times of the day. I said to myself while on the bus to ‘work’, which is what I called it “I’m going to make sure this Christmas is better than last years”. It couldn’t have got much worse than last year – I only got one present, a book, which I appreciated, although I couldn’t afford to get Mum and Dad something. However, I kept telling myself there’s was going to be changes…that’s what life’s all about, isn’t it?
After a not so busy days ‘work’, I decided to treat myself at a nearby burger bar. After indulging in a hamburger and small coke, I left – still hungry and looking down at the floor in the hope of spotting the odd dropped coin, and if I was lucky maybe a note, when this man walked into me.
“Sorry, mate” I said. The man looked down his nose at me, pointing a heavily gold laden finger at me. I looked at the bags he was carrying – Harrods, Nike Town, Armani, Givenchi. “You should watch where you’re going, you filthy, insolent young ruffian…And I am not your mate!” he retorted at me, obviously ‘so superior’, he couldn’t even look at me. I was seething with anger, and didn’t want to cause any trouble so I said “O.K, Whatever” and left. I’d had enough and wanted to go home, besides it was starting to get dark, and Mum gets worried when I stay out. When I got to the top of the stairs near the bus stop, someone dropped one of their carrier bags in front of me. I leant down and picked it up for them; it was the man from outside the burger bar. Our eyes met. “Remember Me – The Insolent Young ruffian? Take Your Bag, You Rich Bastard” I shoved the bag into his chest. I didn’t mean it – I stood in silent horror and watched as he lost his balance and then as if in slow motion he bounced down the stairs until the crack of his skull at the bottom step and the slow oozing trickle of blood on the floor seemed to bring me to my senses.
I heard myself calling out for help, no one came – why would they?
You hear some one shouting out these days and you turn a deaf’un
As my Dad says - I ran over to him and there it was – his wallet - it had fallen out of his pocket and lay there wads and wads of cash saying “take me, take me”, so I did. He wasn’t going to need it now, for I could see by the opaque look of his skin he was no longer in the land of the living or spending come to that. But I was, and boy was I going to have a good time…but would I get away with it? I took most of the cash, but decided not to be too greedy and didn’t take it all.
The next day the regional TV news announced that a local businessman had been found at the bottom of the stairs leading out of the shopping centre. Police had established that Mr Baker had gone shopping after meeting friends for a drink – the bulletin said
Police believed that he had accidentally slipped and fell to his death while under the influence of alcohol – they did not think there was any foul play and were not looking for any one. I almost jumped for joy. “Thank You, God.” Yes that was it; God had a hand in this!!
Several days later, I dropped a £10 note into the hat of the local busker; He nearly choked on his tin whistle. I heard him call out “You robbed a bank, mate?”
I called back “Nah, just some rich git so I could help the poor.”
“Well Ta, very much Robin Hood.” he replied. Then I knew that was the name of my game. I was going to be the modern day Robin Hood.
There she was, Miss Rich Bitch all leather upholstery and fur collar. I watched her climb out of her new Lexus and waited in the dark corner of the car park for her return. Three hours later, there she was…loading the boot of her car - Bag after bag went in. Now was my chance, I started to step forward until the creak of the door made me jump back into my dark corner. It was the bloody parking attendant. Why Now?!! He seemed to take forever walking up the line of cars. Oh No, If he decided to issue a ticket, I was going to miss my chance. I stood there, like a spider waiting for a fly. I could hear my heart pounding quickly against my chest. Please God; don’t let me have waited all this time for nothing!! Yes God answered my prayer again, and the parking attendant seemed to disappear as quickly as he had appeared. Now was my chance, I quickly marched over to her and hit her firmly on the back of her head with a large spanner. She dropped to her knees. Without even looking at her, I grabbed her handbag, and ran like the wind.
Once inside the safety of my room, and behind closed doors, I opened the bag. Oh Yes, God had been kind; She’d obviously spent out and decided to withdraw some cash. Sitting pretty in the middle of the bag was £300 in cash, together with her credit card. This would help me pay for Mrs Brown’s new TV. Mrs Brown was our house bound next-door neighbour and depended on her TV, until it stopped working the other day. Robin would buy her a new one. The next day I went into Dixons and posing as Mrs Brown’s son, I ordered her a new Television set to be delivered to her house.
I noticed a small mention in the local newspaper about some spinster that had been found murdered in a car park. It seemed to me that multi-storey car parks were the places for rich pickings. You choose your car…then your victim. For six months, and with God’s help, I made a good living, travelling from town to town, and visiting car park to car park. I had to choose my time and my moment very carefully, but I became very adept at my calling. I helped many needy people, sometimes anonymously, sometimes not. I got rid of many greedy, grasping, grabbing people. My reputation grew, the papers called me “The Car Park Pouncer”
They wondered if I’d ever get caught? I knew that with God’s help, I wouldn’t…until that fatal Friday. I saw her – she had a ring on every finger. Flash cow, in her flash car. I lay in wait for the moment, I pounced and raised my hand, but someone grabbed it – they held it tightly behind my back. It was a set-up and I was caught. It was over. Robin Hood was caught and locked away by the wicked sheriff.
I only wanted to help Mum and Dad, and other poor people. It began as an accident, and I became a hero.
“Death to The Pouncer – Throw away the key!!” I heard the crowd scream out at my trial…as if I was nothing more than a common criminal and not a hero.
