Tom was privately educated, 15 year old boy who lived in the posh part of town. By every definition of the word he was posh. But Tom was desperately grasping for acceptance among the poor people. He was two faced; he even puts on a fake common accent to sound “normal” although he actually sounded like a brainless imbecile. He lied about where he lived and said he was brought up in the ghettos of the East End, raised by a family of gangsters. But when he spoke to his family, he spoke clearly and concisely and his etiquette was impeccable. He had to lie till his underwear caught fire to keep up his appearance. It’s a difficult life being duplicitous.
One day Tom woke up ready to go out and see his friends, He had slept in his clothes; to be able to jump up out of bed and slide down his slippery polished oak banister and through the front door as quick lightning. He leaped on to his bike and set off to a wobbly start. He skidded around the corner insanely quickly almost being hit by a speeding car, and what he saw made him go numb with shock. The tree was being cut up by a group of cutthroat council workers with chainsaws, hacking it limb from limb. That glorious tree which had once attracted so much attention was being obliterated in front of his very eyes; they were killing his tree. It wasn’t too late he stepped on the gas, sped down the road; he leaped over the kerb onto the village green and eventually stopped at the tree. “WOT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO MY GODDAMN TREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” he screamed in a raucous voice.
“ Oi, get orf me yer little bastad!!” screamed the council worker. Tom was attacking one of the mindless grunts, and was currently biting his hand. A spotty young policeman who was looking for trouble eagerly eyed Tom making his stand against the cavemen with power tools. The young bobby ran over to him and slapped on the handcuffs with a satisfying click, to the council worker who he hauled off to the local police station. Tom sitting there, not believing his luck, decided to go home for a drink.
He sat down at the ridiculously large dining table and poured himself a pint of flat coke. His heart was still pounding; pounding so hard that it felt like it was going to explode. He had almost been caught attacking another man. If he had got a criminal record his parents would disown him, he would get kicked out of his school and would go to juvenile prison. He got up and walked over to his dilapidated old bike and wearily rode slowly into the sunset vowing to be honest with himself from now on.
