Lynton Cox’s “What The Dickens?” Part 5.2

This Must Have Taken Ages - The Author At Work

This Must Have Taken Ages – The Author At Work

Episode 5, part 2. (No, I’m not giving you a recap! this isn’t some sodding TV program made for the benefit of morons!)

At that; sparks and smoke shot from the four feet of the walking frame and they rose into the void like a sky rocket. There was still no noise, just the black emptiness, but out of this to Cox’s horror came flying directly at them the most grotesque figures. The wraiths and phantoms assailed Cox all around, poking him and taunting with fearsome horrible faces thrusting into his, whispering, glaring at him with their glowing red eyes and hissing,

“Repent Cox, repent, repent, repent!”

Other entities, imps and demons, more ferocious still, snapped and harried at his heels and others, each one more horrific than the last, came at him, pinching, poking and biting whichever parts of his body they could reach.

Cox screamed and struggled but Francois J. D etc, etc Jordan III, “Ghost of Christmas yet to come”, gripped his hand so tightly on the crossbar of the frame that it hurt him as much as the bites and scratches of the massed tormenting imps and devils that writhed all around them in that void. With his other hand holding the walking stick Jordan was frantically, very accurately and extremely violently batting away the assorted imps and wraiths and shouting vile obscenities, such as;

“Mo’fuckin’ hoody bastard ass holes can take those fuckers to the taxidermist” and

“Where’s mah Kimber 1911 ah’ll shoot yo’ ‘nuther two assholes, you sumbich bat-winged devil’s shit red-eyed midget!” at them.

Eventually, the Ghost shouted, pointing his stick, which now had disgusting oozing fragments and dripping strands of miscellaneous diabolical flesh hanging from it.

“Look down asshole!”

Cox looked doubtful

“Are you sure you will be alright?

“ Look down asshole! Ah had relatives who whupped ass at Fort Sumpter in ’63; these cotton-pickin’ pointy-eared, red-assed flyin’ Yankee shitbags don’t know shit ’bout layin’ siege ter no wimmin’s fuckin’ panty shop. Git on with it dammit!

Through the gloom Cox could make out some buildings and human activity. He thought the sight was somewhat familiar. As they descended he perceived something written on a wall

“ ‘ollocks”

“That’s Shuttlecock’s place, I’ve just been there!”

The ghost looked at him still waving his stick around ferociously beating off sundry devilish entities

“Shit man look closer!”

There was activity, lots of it. There was a fire engine and people running around, an ambulance was drawn up and people were tending to others who were looking dazed and confused, injured, sitting at the kerbside wrapped in blood soaked bandages.

Cox recognised some of them, Bob had a sling and the Colonel was leaning on a first-aider being led to an ambulance while Sir Derek, uninjured and at full action stations, seemed to have taken charge and was ordering people to do things. Suddenly the bustle stilled and from the door issued two men bearing a stretcher with a blanket draped over it and a sobbing Ma, bent and broken withered to half the woman she had been, walking bereft beside it with two women trying to comfort her.

The ghostly walking frame swooped slowly, the diabolical onslaught now abated, until it hovered about ten feet above and to one side of the stretcher. Bob had stood and walked slowly to the stretcher and lifted the corner of the blanket. It was then that Cox saw the lifeless pallid face of the boy with the grey pussycat toy in his limp arms.

Cox turned his head to the apparition with a questioning look of disbelief

“Yup, sho’ nuff its the rug rat what did y’all expect to see?”

“But b b b b but.” Cox started blubbering, “It’s all MY FAULLLLT! If I’d paid his father a living wage… been more thoughtful…”

“Ha! If if if if if s’always fuckin’ IF!” Exclaimed the spectre, mocking and going on,

“Yah think it’s all about YOU don’t ya? You you, you, you, po’ l’il Ebenezer Cocksuckin’ Cox, you ass hole, yah full o’ crap!”

“But it IS! I’ve been horrible to them all. ALL of them. They hated me for it and they were RIGHT! I gave no thought to the consequence of my actions. I was mean, selfish, full of bitterness and spite because of THAT WOMAN and how through my selfish indifference to her she left me. ME! I was too blind and proud to admit my own failings! I even insulted my OWN brother and those poor charity workers.”

“Cain’t you see nuthin’ bo’? Those beggin’ bastards after money fer the po’ is jest a bunch o’ ass holes. Oh yeah they’s a comin’ round at Christmas a preyin’ on the guilt o’ other po’ folks but they don’t tell yah that their boss gits paid mo’ in one year than the whole o’ the po’ in yo’ country can git in their whole lahftimes. Charity mah ass! What right they got ter prey on peoples like thayut? An’ that sumbitch bro’ o’ yours he’s happy ’nuff. What right he got a judgin’ you, cos judge you he does, a makin a effort ter invaht yah fer Christmas jest so’s he feels better that he tried an’ cain tell evr’body ’bout it! What’s thayut ifn not some smug holier than thou treasure-seekin’ in heaven thang?”

Cox looked at the spirit askance

“Are you sure you understand what you’re meant to be doing? Those instructions? What your spooky committee told you?”

“Sho’s hayull ah am bo’! Ah’s a Atheist, tho’ praps ah”m a startin’ ter think ah oughta change a few o’ mah views on thangs, but th’ain’t nuthin’ less Godly than those bastard ass holes who comes aroun’ a tellin’ yah what you oughta be a doin an’ hows yah oughtta be a doin’ it an’ shit’. Bet none of ’em take mo’ than a glimpse in a mirror ter tittivate themselves, ‘stead o’ lookin’ deep at what the mirror don’t show unless yah’s a real honest mayun.”

The spirit spoke once more, but this time the authority in it’s voice returned

“NOW COME COME COX SURELY YOU SHOULD HAVE GOT ALL THAT SELF-REVELATION AND AWARENESS BIT ALREADY FROM MY RATHER CAMP COLLEAGUE WHO I MET IN THE WAITING ROOM! THINK MAN! BUT ARE YOU TO BLAME FOR EVERYTHING HERE?

HERE, WE HAVE THE CONSEQUENCES OF A LITTLE BOY COSSETTED BY HIS PARENTS AND WHO NEVER LEARNED ANYTHING ABOUT THOUGHT FOR OTHERS JUST THE GRATIFICATION OF HIS OWN DESIRES.

HIS PARENTS PANDERED TO HIS EVERY WHIM AND THEY NEVER TAUGHT HIM THAT SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO DO WITHOUT AND YOU CANNOT ALWAYS HAVE INSTANT GRATIFICATION.

THEY WORKED THEIR FINGERS TO THE BONE FOR HIM, STRUGGLED TO GET HIM HIS PUSSYWUSSY FOR CHRISTMAS AND WHAT GRATITUDE DID THEY GET?

HIS SIBLINGS TOO WERE FORCED INTO SACRIFICE BY CIRCUMSTANCE BUT DID THEY COMPLAIN?

CRUTCHES AND WHEELCHAIRS AND HANDICAPS DON’T MAKE PEOPLE GOOD!

AFTER YOU LEFT HE STAMPED AND STAMPED IN HIS TANTRUM AND THE ROTTEN FLOOR GAVE WAY. THAT WAS AS MUCH HIS FAULT AS THE FAULT OF BOB AND MA THEIR SINISTRALLY BIASED LANDLORD MITCHELL.

“What d’y’ mean?”

Asked Cox, surprised and irritated and a bit confused.

MITCHELL WAS QUITE HAPPY TO GROPE MA’S AMPLE STRUCTURAL ATTRIBUTES AND IGNORE THE OBVIOUS STRUCTURAL DEFECTS OF THE PREMISES HE RENTED TO THEM.

SHE IN TURN WAS HAPPY TO BE GROPED AND BOB HAPPY TO TURN A BLIND EYE FOR THE SAKE OF A CHEAP ROOF OVER THEIR HEADS.

NO, COX, NO ONE PERSON IS OF IMMEDIATE BLAME HERE IT EXTENDS BACK IN A CHAIN AND OUTWARDS IN A NETWORK.

INDEED, SHOULD ONE BE OF SUCH A POLITICALLY CRITICAL BENT ONE MIGHT GO BACK AS FAR AS GOVERNMENT WHICH CREATES THE SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT OR EVEN TO SOME DEITY WHO ALLOWS SUCH THINGS TO HAPPEN EVEN THOUGH HE KNOWS THEY WILL HAPPEN AND SUPPOSEDLY HAS THE ABILITY TO PREVENT THEM. HIS EARTHLY “REPRESENTATIVES” EXPLAIN THAT AWAY BY FREE-WILL (BUT THAT IS JUST OUR WRITER BORING US WITH PHILOSOPHY AGAIN – TAKE NO NOTICE).

NO COX, THE RESPONSIBILITY IS SHARED BY AS MANY AS ONE WISHES TO INCULPATE. WE ARE ALL, IN THE END, ANSWERABLE, FOR THE FATES OF EACH OTHER AND THE WORLD. BUT WE ARE ALSO RESPONSIBLE FOR OURSELVES AND ONLY EVER OUR OWN VICTIM.

To Be Continued…

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