main menu | youngsters categories | authors | new stories | search | links | settings | author tools |
Pidgeon (standard:drama, 2963 words) | |||
Author: Lev821 | Added: Apr 16 2019 | Views/Reads: 1647/1138 | Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes) |
A kindly soul gives regular money to a vagabond, but what does he do with it? | |||
He was there again, with mournful, puppy-dog eyes, greasy complexion, unshaven, crouched in the doorway of a boarded-up butcher's shop. Even though he knew he couldn't guarantee any money, he still asked anyway. "Spare some change please?" Beverley Hayes always had a pound coin ready, and she handed it to him with a smile. "There you go," she said. "Thanks love" he said, as she continued on into the coffee shop next door. When she came out with her morning espresso she knew he would be gone. He always was. Every morning when she came to work, her twenty minute walk from her house would take her via a dual-carriageway underpass, beyond which was a row of shops where he would be huddled, waiting for her, waiting for his coin, where he would then leave and vanish further into the town. Opposite those shops was an office block where she worked on the third floor in a catering recruitment agency, and she entered as she had done for the past five years, up the lift and into her shared office where Colin Jacobs was already there, as he always was. He was looking out of the window. "I don't know why you bother," he said. "I mean, I know I get here early, but he gets there even earlier. There's no way he sleeps there though. Clearly he waits for you, then when he gets his money he disappears into the underpass". "Probably hungry or something, going to get something to eat. Gone to get breakfast". "Breakfast, with a pound, what's he going to get with that? He's not going into that coffee shop you go in is he? Can't even afford the entry fee to get in there. What is it for that anyway?" he said, pointing to the coffee she held, "about four quid or something". "Four twenty," she said, settling at her desk. "He knows he's got a good thing with you," he said, "Guaranteed money". "If I can help him, and not just him, others as well, then I will". "Who is he, anyway? Every morning I see him there, sponging off people who walk past. Then when you come along and give him his pound, off he scoots until tomorrow, back in position. Oh poor me I'm hungry and homeless, give me cash so I can buy drugs and booze and cigarettes". "They're not all spongers," said Beverley, "some are genuine". "Yes, I know that, but its the spongers, sorry, the bummers that give the genuine ones the bad name, and makes people not trust them, not want to give money in-case it's just some sponging waster who wants his next fix, who'll come out with some sob story about how he got his benefits stopped because he got found out cheating the system. Oh woe is me". "I don't suppose you'll be giving any money to him then?" "I'd rather put my money in a bonfire. At least then I can warm my hands and get more use out of it. I'm doing them a favour by not giving them anything. Motivation to get off their lazy arses and earn it, rather than just putting their hand out to ask for free money". The following morning, he was there again, Beverley with her pound ready as she left the underpass. "There you go," she said, smiling as she headed in to the coffee shop. Colin was there again, early as usual, and he came quickly over with his hand out and a forlorn, sad look on his face. "Spare some change there Bev. Oh please, pleeeease...I need to buy some petrol for my BMW. I need the latest phone. Oh go on". Bev tried not to smile, but couldn't help herself. The following morning was one of those rare times when he wasn't there, and when that happened she felt a pang of concern, wondering where he was and what he was up to. "Remind me who he is again," asked Colin, "I was so overwhelmed with worry for him the last time I forget who he is". "To be honest," she said, "I don't really know who he is, even though I've been giving him the money for nearly two years. I asked his name once but I don't think he heard me, just went into the tunnel". "Think I'll call him 'Pidgeon'," said Colin. Click here to read the rest of this story (255 more lines)
Authors appreciate feedback! Please write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story! |
Lev821 has 95 active stories on this site. Profile for Lev821, incl. all stories Email: jones_j01@hotmail.com |