On a dilapidated and worn park bench, on a scruffy patch of grass masquerading as a park, on the fringe of a run down city centre, in a dusty part East of England, sit three old men.
Tony is on the left, at 86 he is as puny as an undernourished Chihuahua and wears the permanent look of someone befuddled and confused.
At the opposite end of the bench is Nic, 4 years Tony’s junior. His skinny build means they look like a pair of matching book ends from a distance. It’s only when you get closer that you notice the spark in his eyes, he’s lived by his wits most of his life and he hasn’t lost the cockiness he perfected as a teenager.
In the middle, in terms of both age and location, is Gary. Because of a penchant for fried food and pints of bitter he occupies most of the available space. His bulk from within presses hard against his skin meaning he has far less wrinkles than the other men but on the downside he has painful sores on the inside of his legs from the constant rubbing of his huge thighs.
‘I hate getting old...’ says Tony.
Gary sucks his gums and nods in agreement. Nic merely yawns.
Tony continues, ‘...Every morning at four o’clock I have to hobble to the loo ‘cos I’m busting for a pee...’
Gary tuts but his nodding becomes more pronounced. Nic raises a hand to wipe the yawn-spittle from his chin.
'...Stand there for twenty minutes just for a trickle-’
He’s cut off by Gary before he gets chance to finish his moan.
‘That’s nothing.’ Gary grunts.
‘What do you mean ‘nothing’? It’s purgatory I tell you.’ Tony says in his defence.
‘Listen. Every morning at three o’clock I have to put my wrinkly old cheeks on the porcelain ‘cos I’m gagging for a number two.’
‘Chilly loo seat? Not nice.’ Sympathises Tony.
Nic purses his lips and shakes his head but still stays out of the conversation.
‘Not nice? A numb bum is the least of my problems. I grunt and groan for half an hour, I do. And all I get is a guff of wind.’
All three men stare ahead and uncomfortable silence descends while they each have a mental image of Gary on the loo.
Eventually, as if in tandem, Gary and Tony turn towards Nic.
‘You?’ Asks Tony.
‘You’re a pair of moaners. Why can’t I be like you? How I dream of being like you...’
Gary looks wounded. Tony, well, he just looks as puzzled as always.
‘...At seven o’clock every morning I pee like a stallion and crap like a pig.’
Now Gary’s expression matches Tony’s.
‘So what’s wrong with that?’ Says Gary.
‘I don’t wake up until eight.’
The three old men look forward with wise, all knowing looks on their faces. Eventually, Nic breaks the silence.
‘If only we’d lived faster, harder, it could have been so different...’
The three men each drift off in their own thoughts, imagining what could have happened if they hadn’t lead such sedate lives.
Of the three imaginations, this one was probably the most creative, all-encompassing and on so many levels, simply wrong.
........
On a pristine, gleaming steel bench in an immaculate white room, brightly lit but with no visible sign of either windows or lighting fixtures, sit three young men.
Tony is on the left, at 24 he is as puny as an undernourished Chihuahua puppy and wears the permanent look of someone befuddled and confused.
At the opposite end of the bench is Nic, 4 years Tony’s junior. His skinny build means they look like a pair of matching book ends from a distance. It’s only when you get closer that you notice the spark in his eyes, he’s cocky this one, supremely confident, but it’s probably mis-placed.
In the middle, in terms of both age and location, is Gary. Because of a penchant for meat, potatoes and rugby his muscular frame occupies most of the available space. His muscles from within ripple hard against his skin meaning he has far more girlfriends than the other men but on the downside he has painful sores on the back of his thighs from the constant raking of boot studs on the pitch and fingernails in the bedroom.
‘What the hell happened there?’ Asks Tony.
‘What happened? I killed you that’s what happened...’ Says Gary before adding, ‘...you bastard.’
‘I’m not one of those! And I know you killed me, I was there remember, but why on earth-'
Gary cuts Tony off mid-sentence.
'As soon as I walked through that door I knew. The smell of sex hit me like a sledgehammer and I knew. What did you expect? I’d turn the other cheek? Extend the hand of friendship?’
.......
It’s a bright summers day. One of those when you could be forgiven for thinking everything is right in the world, but in a fourth floor flat in a 70s tower block, things are anything but fine.
Gary charges through a bedroom door in a rage. His beautiful twenty two year old girlfriend Rachel sits upright in bed and clutches the duvet around her naked body. Her tousled brunette hair falls in ringlets across her shoulders.
‘Where is he? I’ll rip his spine out!’ Shouts Gary.
Pulling open the wardrobe door, Gary yanks out the clothes on hangers and throws them aside. He points at his girlfriend and his arm shakes, but his rage prevents him from forming any of the words he wants to say. In disgust he turns away from her.
‘Gary, what’s wrong? There’s no-one else here. I was-’ Rachel’s explanation falls on deaf ears.
‘When I find you...’ Shouts Gary.
Rachel throws back the duvet and begins to climb out of bed.
‘‘Gary! Wait!’ She calls but he storms out of the bedroom into the small corridor and then into the kitchen.
He grips the sink until his knuckles go white and his muscles bulge. He hangs his head down and tries to centre himself by breathing hard. Only when, his pulse rate returns to something approaching normal does he become aware of a draught on his side. Looking up he sees the balcony door ajar.
Fully opening the door with his meaty palm he walks out into the sunshine. Here, he cannot fail to see the fingers clutching the edge of the balcony. Leaning over he looks at Tony, in just his boxers, hanging on for dear life.
‘Thank God! Help me!’ Shouts Tony.
Helping anyone is the last thing on Gary’s mind. Finally he has found the target of his anger. Without a second thought, he stomps on Tony’s fingers and watches him fall.
A few agonising seconds later Tony is laying groaning on the pavement below. Leaning over the balcony Gary is amazed to see Tony isn’t dead.
‘Jammy bastard.’ He mutters.
With that comment, Gary walks back into the kitchen and looks for something to finish the job. He sees the spice rack, block of knives, even the microwave but dismisses them all before finally his eyes rest on the fridge.
Rachel, now dressed in shorts and a rugby top, appears in kitchen doorway, completely unaware of Tony’s fall.
‘Baby, what’s this all about?’ She says.
Gary ignores her. He uses all of his strength, heaves the fridge onto the balcony and over the safety rail.
‘Gary! Don’t!’ Yells Rachel.
The fridge plummets downwards, towards Tony.
In his desire to see his revenge come to fruition Gary leans forward, overbalances and tumbles over the rail following the fridge.
In the now empty kitchen Rachel screams, ‘Nooooo!’
The fridge squashes Tony and he is killed instantly. Gary meanwhile nosedives onto the now stationary fridge and is also killed outright.
........
Back in the brightly lit room, the the three men sit on the gleaming steel bench.
‘That’s why you killed me? You thought-’ Tony begins to ask.
‘You had it coming-’ Gary retorts.
‘You idiot. I wasn’t having an affair with your girlfriend. I’m a virgin for pity’s sake.'
‘Sure. That’s why you were hanging from my balcony in your skivvies-’
‘I live in the flat above you. You know-’
‘Right. Don’t tell me. You always abseil up the building in your grots like some sort of perverted Spiderman. So much more civilised than using the lift wearing a suit.’ Gary says sarcastically.
‘I wasn’t on the way up you idiot. I’d just had a shower and come out to catch some sun on the balcony. But my feet were wet and I slipped on the tiles. Just managed to grab hold on the way down.’
‘Sure you did... what? For real?’ Asks Gary incredulously.
‘Of course for real. We’re in God’s waiting room, you can’t lie in here!’
‘Oh.’ Is all Gary can muster as a reply.
‘I thought you were going to save me, not stomp my fingers in and drop a fridge on my head!’
‘I...look, sorry about that, the stomping I mean... and the fridge. But you know, you got to admit, it’s an easy mistake to make.’ Gary says in the way of an apology.
Tony shakes his head in disbelief. It’s several minutes before anyone speaks again.
‘So what happened to you?’ Gary asks Nic.
Nic grimaces and looks awkward at the question. He focuses on the floor unable to look his friends in their eyes.
.......
Hiding for his life inside a fridge, squished up tight in the confined space with only a small light blinking, Nic is naked apart from a lettuce leaf covering his genitals. His hair stands up right as the fridge plummets over the balcony towards the pavement below.
......
‘You’re not going to believe this fellers. I was curled up, stark -bollock naked inside this fridge...
The refrigerator impacts with a sickening crunch, the tiny light goes out and the three men are plunged into a tunnel of total darkness with the pinprick of light from the waiting room in the distance.
THE END