Nick Knock

I was in between jobs at the time and running short of cash, so without a need to now explain my future don’t look flash. I tramped from door to door to plead my unemployment case in a hope that sympathetic souls would be my saving grace. Clearing drains or mowing lawns may seem as tedious to some, and pruning trees or mending fences, too might appear humdrum, but they’d been compensated when I’d hinted with suspicion, a kid who lurked along the street, and upon a mission. It took me back to those old days when I was just a teenage kid; to reminisce for old times sake about some silly things we did. I mean we never really hurt no one apart from denting pride after setting up some silly joke, and then running off to hide. Small towns would often breed small minds, so my Mother often said, once the gossipers at Wellings store would raise their ugly head, and whisper rumours true or false about the hooligans at night who terrorized their neighbourhood, and bemoaned it wasn’t right. These hooligans they spoke of were only us kids having fun and letting off a bit of steam with no damage being done. It was meant as teenage bonding and to have a laugh or two, where in little country towns there’s really nothing much to do. But we had a lot of fun by gee with purses tied to fishing line; putting wet bags over chimneys; or twist around a street sign. These gags would inconvenience to enhance our silly game, so experience had told me, that kid’s are up to just the same. So while I was pulling weeds I watched the kid creep in next door. Father Hanley aided with a walking stick, just like me he saw the little tyke jump up and down, and attempt to reach the bell, and Father Hanley smiled at me “the lad’s not coping very well.” So I leant on the shovel, to watch the Priest walk in next door, and assist that little bugger without knowing what he’s there for. Father Hanley pushed the lad aside and when he pressed the bell, the little bugger sprinting yelled - “quick! Now run like bloody hell!”