Ted woke up as he did most mornings: in his green armchair, lamp fighting with morning sunlight to illuminate his right shoulder, and a whiskey stain on his leg, fallen glass on the floor at his feet, fag ash caught on the crotch of his trousers. The letter was still there in the hallway. Fuck off bank, said Ted Dempsey.
The sharp ring of the doorbell cut a hole in his birthmark, making Ted Dempsey wince and whine. He got up and looked through the frosted glass inset on his front door, just about being able to make out a fat person in a shiny silver bubble jacket, with a rabbit fur moscovite hat squeezed over the flabby head on top. It was a local imbecile known as Blimp, so called because he looks like a zepellin turned upright in that ridiculous jacket. Curiously, he was one of the few people Ted Dempsey could spend an extended period of time around without feeling the need to cease respiring, although of course his affection for the idiot would not be expressed outwardly.
Ted Dempsey! Ted Dempsey! Jed Mempsey! Fed Fempsey! Ded Tempsey! Dead Tempsey?! Ted Dempsey!!!
Come on in Blimp, enough of that blasted nonsense.
Blimp was like a puppy licking a boys face on Christmas morning every time Ted Dempsey answered the door to him. He enjoyed Ted Dempsey’s company, perhaps because Ted never deviated from a plain routine, perpetuating a sense of normality in Blimp’s simple life. As usual, the two wandered into the kitchen, and Blimp unloaded the daily news bulletin from the gossips at the post office as Ted Dempsey slopped his porridge into his mouth with a bent fork. Blimp repeated some inane story about the arrival at the post office of a mysterious spherical package that repeatedly emitted the sound of a woman saying "No." Ted Dempsey half listened. He was more interested in combing some globules of porridge out of his nasal hair with his fork.
And the bank sent out some new amazing saving scheme that gives you presents! Isn’t that wonderful! Everybody is talking about it, they say they only picked out their favorite customers! I went straight to the bank this morning to start saving. Did you hear about it Ted Dempsey?
Ted Dempsey gesticulated vaguely toward the letter on the hall floor.
Ah so you got one too! I knew you would. They only pick out their favourites you know, that’s what it says in the letter! Anyway, as I was saying, I went straight up to the bank this morning, and I have already reached my first Money Milestone and got my reward!
Ted Dempsey raised a brow, slightly. Oh? said Ted Dempsey, What is it?
Curious now! I still have it with me. Do you want to see it?
Ted Dempsey nodded, and Blimp fiddled with a pocket inside his silver bubble jacket. After a moment, he produced the item: a white porcelain hedgehog. Ted stared at the reward. Little detail. The spines on the hedgehog's back formed one lumpy unity, only the vaguest suggestion of the animal's natural defense mechanism remained in the bumpy topology. But it was certainly an interesting ornament: virginal, white, and pure. Slightly gaudy and banal perhaps, but it had a strange allure to Ted Dempsey. He decided to hide his curiosity and feigned indifference, much to Blimp’s disappointment. He scowled.
Do you not like it?
It’s just a nonsense piece of nothing. It’s worthless.
Blimp looked dejected. Ted Dempsey lit up another cigarette. Blimp decided it was time to continue with his errands, and let himself out of the house. Ted Dempsey watched him turn the corner at the end of the street from his upstairs window. When he was safely out of eyeshot, he quickly rushed downstairs to pick up the letter from the hall floor.
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