Ted Dempsey put on his tweed overcoat, and forced his feet into his old boots. He removed €100 in notes and small change from a jar in his kitchen, quickly moneybagged it, and left his house. He eyed the clouds: grey. The roadway, picking up the sunlight from the occasional break in the clouds, shone in the damp of the night’s rain. I’ll get the bus, thought Ted Dempsey.
He sat in his usual seat. Five rows back, and on the left. His head loosely nodded back and forth to the rhythm of the buses stopping and starting. He was beginning to drift off when a blue mass rocked the chair beside him. He looked up. A tall person in a blue anorak had sat too close beside him. Ted Dempsey hated this. There were plenty of empty seats around him, why did this ignoramus impose on my journey? he thought. He tried to see the head of this criminal to distuingish their gender, but they were disguised by a hood, pulled tight with drawstrings around the oval of their face. A crooked blotchy nose protruded beyond the rim of the hood. He looked toward the hands. Long nails. A woman? But that nose: slightly masculine. There was a bag at the feet of the criminal. It was a little girls bag, with neon fairies all over it. Grotesque, thought Ted Dempsey. The criminal departed the bus three stops later. Ted Dempsey craned his neck to hissingly decipher their gender, but there face was masked by a STOP sign as the bus pulled away.
Ted Dempsey marched into the bank and right up to the counter. There were posters advertising their new Reward Account scheme. So much for letting me in on a secret, thought Ted Dempsey.
Excuse me sir, you’ll have to go to the end of the queue.
Ted Dempsey looked horrified. He turned around: there were at least 50 people in this small local bank, excitedly whispering to each other. Joking, telling tales, laughing. There was a tangible excitement in the room. Ted Dempsey wandered to the back of the queue, imagining that he’d be there for quite some time. He was disgusted with himself for falling for this scheme. But he wanted that hedgehog. If that imbecile Blimp had one, he’d have one too. he analysed the people waiting in the bank. They all seemed to be there for the Reward Scheme. Most carried many bags of small coins, fluff-covered change uprouted from their furniture and under their refrigerators, probably. Others had their wallets open, recounting their cash to ensure there would be no embarassment at the counter. Ted Dempsey became anxious about his own stash. To be turned away without the hedgehog - oh, what a disgrace! To think of those gossips at the Post Office, telling their tales about how Ted Dempsey can’t even reach his first Money Milestone. Ted Dempsey coughed hoarsely, and spat phlegm into his own hand. He wiped it into his jacket pocket.
Did you hear what the second Money Milestone is?
Ted Dempsey looked up. There were two middle-aged women a few people ahead of him discussing the reward scheme. He shuffled forward a step or two to hear what they’re saying.
Well, they don’t tell you until you reach the first milestone, but people talk. I heard some whispers down at the Post Office this morning that you have to give in another €200.
Do you know what the reward is?
Definitely not. Nobody will talk about it yet, I don’t think anybody has that sort of money around here today. I think after the weekend I’ll have heard though.
Ted Dempsey’s attention drifted back to his own cash. Did he have enough? He counted, and he swore. To his horror, he was three euro short. Maybe he dropped some on the way out of the house? He became panicked. He was edging closer to the till. He turned around: another 50 people had joined the queue behind him, right out of the bank. If he left the queue, there might be gossip. They’d be wondering why he left after spending so long waiting in the queue. After all, they have little better to be talking about down at that blasted Post Office. No doubt he’d have that idiot Blimp insensitively filling him in on what would be said about him.
He fidgeted around his coat to make sure. He felt a few coins around the hemline. The fucking hole in the pocket, muttered Ted Dempsey. He fished around, trying to extract the coins. No luck for Ted. His face grew red. He was only three people from the front. Two people now. He looked about him agitatedly. He spotted Blimp out on the street, talking to a post man. Ted immediately tried to capture his attention, but he was just out of Blimp’s eyeline.
Blimp. Blimp!
Ted Dempsey waved his arms about. Everybody in the bank turned to look at the commotion. Only one person in the queue ahead of Ted Dempsey now. Blimp didn’t turn around.
Next please.
Ted Dempsey walked up to the counter, furious and tense from the impending embarassment.
How can I help you, sir? The teller smiled at Ted with a warm face.
Got a knife?
Excuse me?
He whispered:
I said: have you got a fucking knife? You know, a sharp thing? Or a scissors? I need to tear open my coat right now.
Ted Dempsey grimaced at her, crosseyed. The teller became anxious with his request. She handed him a children’s scissors made of red plastic.
The teller whispered back:
I cannot give you anything that you could potentially use as a weopon against us.
Ted Dempsey muttered, and picked up his coat tails and began tearing at his jacket as if he was an animal. The blade was just about sharp enough to catch a small rip in his overcoat and tear it open slightly. He pulled and pulled as stitches popped here and there. Everybody’s mouths glistened with excited saliva, lip-corners dragged up their ears, enjoying the spectacle. Ted Dempsey grunted and huffed and puffed. He pulled so hard at his coat, the stitching along the back ripped wide open. With the sudden release of force, he had tripped himself up, pulling one hundred Reward Scheme leaflets on top of him off the countertop. The moment of silence that followed amplified a sound of coins rolling on tiles, a sound then suddenly destroyed by canned laughter. Ted Dempsey scrambled at the free coins, and threw them up with his money bag on the counter top. He pulled himself up.
I’d like to make a deposit into my Reward account, said Ted Dempsey.
Yes sir. The teller stifled a laugh.
Ted Dempsey left the bank feeling half a man. He cursed Blimp for not hearing him shout for help. But he did had his first reward: the porcelain hedgehog, which he held tightly in his pocket. The gossip would eventually subside, he told himself, but he’d always have his first reward from the bank. And when he got the next reward before anybody else, he would be the one they would turn to for the information. He lit up a Camel cigarette and walked home.
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