I preferred profits to smiles in those days. Then something I’d no defence against, no words for, fell out of the sky and flattened me. I didn’t know what day it was – let alone what season! Quite literally a monster came to town and knocked on my door. He was wearing a t-shirt with my name on it – just in case my soul pretended otherwise. Truth be told, I didn’t even realise I still had a soul to crush. I had dismissed everything and everyone from my life that detracted from my unwavering faith in the best goal of all…
Profit.
Remember it’s a noun as well as a verb. Dirty notes, clean notes, crushed notes- all so redolent of joy. Little wonder I changed my safe password every week. What is mine, all mine and all that. Wasn’t he a monster too?
So, there I was ( once upon a time) approaching Christmas with my own form of merriment because flu was afoot in my town. The local radio station kept warning the vulnerable to stay at home, but this was before online retail was even a thing. Some listened and shut their hearts to Christmas as well as their doors, yet as the big day drew closer, those who should have been more selfish tentatively ventured to the shops, inhaled the unhealthy air and in shocking numbers succumbed to fatal flu.
That’s why I come in. I offer a unique service that sweeps away the melancholy staleness of abandoned homes. ‘Save yourself the grief’ our adverts say. ‘Houses cleared out in hours.’ Our cards are respectfully dour. Gold and black, like the pigmentation of an exotic reptile. Yet they inspire trust. And the faster we move to hollow-out homes, the greater the chance of profit, because when people are grief-stricken they forget there are predators around; forget that their relative’s clutter might hide remarkable treasure.
Consequently, UNFORESEEN RICHES ( notice the capitals) seemed endlessly destined for yours truly. Until the monster in sunglasses appeared: complete with a canary and my own personal directions to Calvary.
