Got 'Em Read online

  I make my way to a vacant seat, which I can’t find, so I just stand in the middle towards the left side of the bus against one of the poles. Looking around out of curiosity, I notice the man next to me, sitting down reading a book of ‘Capturing and Maintaining the Wilderness: Ideas and Resolutions’. This guy must be a zoo-keeper, or maybe a little extremist that’s gaining knowledge to become someone. Or maybe he could just be curious, like me.

  Over the speed bumps, around the corners, and sudden stops; this driver is heavy footed on both the accelerator and the brakes. Getting thrown around the bus like a rag doll, he stops the bus so abruptly that it literally throws me on the floor as he comes to a stop to let another passenger out or in. Looking up at him whilst on the floor, he just closes the bus door and smiles at me, I swear, everything is out to get me. Anyhow, the next stop is mine. With a short walk to the lawyer’s office, I find myself comfortably waiting, reading magazines of all sorts.

  Then my lawyer, John Ballant, comes into the waiting room from his office and calls me in. At this current time, I feel as if I am in a doctor’s surgery, the way he just came out and called my name to come into his office as such. Making my way into his office, I feel relief in a strange way. I continue over to his desk where I find myself a comfortable seat. I pull it close, so I can place my arms onto his desk. He looks at me with happy eyes to tell me that court finds in favour of me having his entire will, and that no one wanted to testify against it. That no one wanted anything to do with it, and this is how it went.

  In a relieved, excited voice, John says, “So, Dave, hope you don’t mind me calling you that.”

  I reply happily, “Nah, nah, not at all.”

  John continues, “So the matter went before the courts and the magistrate found it in favour of you. That no one that is questioned to testify against your grandfather’s will wanted to testify, in fact they wanted nothing to do with it.”

  Mind blown and a little confused, I ask out of curiosity, “So, I don’t fully understand, no one wanted to testify?”

  John replies, with consistency, to my question in a relieved voice, “No, even your Aunty Karit? Karot?”

  I correct him as John is fishing around for the right abbreviation of my aunty’s first name, “Karat.”

  John continues, “Yup, well she didn’t want to testify as your grandfather has nothing she wants, even the money, so everything’s yours.” Following in a demanding kind of voice John says, “You just need to sign here, here and here,” pointing at the paper work from whatever went down on his end. This here is just to certify that everything is officially mine.

  At this point, John quickly wraps things up with me and sends me on my way. Happily, I take copies of the paperwork that John has ready, waiting for me. Proceeding out the door and to the bus stop, there is a bus awaiting me. So, I hop on and back, off to work I go.

  Walking into work with a smile, my boss asks intentionally, “Someone’s made you happy! And it isn’t me, who’s paying you better than I am?”

  I reply, giggling, “Ha, no one man, just won the court case to have full hands on my grandfather’s will.”

  My boss replies with his deranged humour, “Oh sweet! Looks like I’m getting a pay rise! Ha, ha.” Laughing away, he looks back at me grinning then puts on his ‘ultimate serious tone’, “Now get back to work, ya bludger!” I just laugh at him and carry on back to my desk.

  Looking around from where I’m sitting, creating construction blueprints of how the next tall building’s going to be built, I notice that Andrew is nowhere to be seen. Although his car is out the front, he is normally always at his desk working on the mechanical part of what goes in the building and where. It is then that I glance over through the window and notice his car going out of the driveway. So, I get up and start walking towards the boss’ office.

  Walking into the boss’ office, I ask inquisitively, “Hey man, where’s Andrew going?”

  My boss swung on his chair, sarcastically answering back, “What’s it to you? He doesn’t ask where you are going, do you love him?”

  Giving him a strange look, completely ignoring the last part, I answer, “I’m just wondering, as he is meant to be completing the mechanical part to the blueprint going out this Friday.”

  My boss looking at me distilled, replies in an acerbic tone, “His workload’s yours now. I was meant to tell you earlier, or, well, last week really.”

  I reply belligerently, “What? Why? What’s going on?”

  He replies, humorously callous, “He’s left. He’s gone bye bye—” raising his hands and waving like a douche, he replies, “That boy ain’t comin’ back.” Taking a deep breath, he continues, “He handed in his resignation last week. And his workload is now yours and still has to be out by Friday, good-luck.”

  Shocked and feeling obliterated, I walk out of his office as I hear a little bit of giggling from him and his secretary. I shake my head and walk back to my desk. I have a little bit of a mental break down whilst I get back up and grab Andrew’s workload. I walk over it and find out he didn’t even fucking start it. Growling, ‘uurrggh’—as I am annoyed with frustration—I start going over the prints and start marking down where I believe things should go; going over the safety of it all, and all the ins and outs.

  My boss approaches me, and hands me the upstairs team’s workload too, and says in a serious voice, “I don’t care how long you have to stay back, by the way, welcome back. This is your new workload, no pay rise or overtime but you must get all of it done, what you’re doing now by Friday, and this here by Monday. Have fun!”

  My day comes to an end, as I get stuck right into work. Surprisingly, I worked so hard that in five hours I shot out the blueprint designs which would normally take four to five days to complete and put out. Then I started doing the pile of paperwork I was handed, and had a quarter of it done by home time. I’m not staying back so I packed up and came in the next day to finish it.

  Midday comes as I finish all that the boss just dumped on me. Impressed, as I walk into his office with it all done, he takes the paper work and just turns around on his computer chair. Now, I feel a little struck and abused, so I say to him, “Right, your workload is done, so I’m going home.” Stunned there, he is left speechless as I walk out of his office and to the bus stop to catch a bus back home, where I yet again sit on my couch and relax for the rest of the Thursday afternoon.

  Friday comes along; I hop out of bed, and walk out of my bedroom. I proceed to the kitchen to do my usual thing, and think to myself, I really don’t have to go to work today as I’ve already completed all the work that was asked of me and more. So instead, I take the day off to go to the local Westpac Bank. Before that, though, I pick up the paperwork my lawyer gave me that had everything I needed to know about what is in my grandfather’s will.

  Sifting through the pages, I come to the list of things that were left to me, with confidents from my grandfather of my good use. In there, my grandfather has left me roughly $900000 in savings, and because the house has burnt down, the market value of what it is worth and a huge 800-metre by 600-metre warehouse where he had the intentions of starting a business, and an old F250. He also left a remark of intentions:

  ‘I’m leaving the only one person I trust, David, all my belongings when I pass. With good intentions he will make me proud with it.’

  He also left a note which I’m not going to open just yet. Placing the paperwork down on my lounge, off I walk to catch the bus down to the bank where I meet a financial banker, to assist with my claim for my grandfather’s savings that he had left me. Waiting in the bank, I am called into the banker’s office. Taking a seat, he starts my claim. After managing everything he then says to me, “You’ll be waiting up to five business days for the money to reach your account.”

  I then think to myself, I need more days off… as I’m a grieving man. Making my way over to work, I march right into my boss’s office. Closing the door behind me, I say to him, “May I hav
e a word?” as I take the chair in front of his desk and sit down. Politely, with a bit of salt in my choice of words, I say to my boss, “I would like some time off to grieve properly.”

  My boss turns around with his hideous smile and says, “No one’s holding you back, go and grieve.” I then stand up and thank him.

  As he turns his chair to face the wall in his office, he says under his breath, “Fuckin’ tootle hopping wanker.” Walking away, I smile as I ignore his insult.

  After all that is done, a week goes by. Continuously checking my accounts for the funds, Thursday comes along as I log onto my online account and find the funds of $901002 are available, I think, You beauty! Grabbing my house keys off the bench I make my way down the road to a local car dealer ship. As I walk in, I see a few cars I like, but decide to make my way to the back, where all the older cars are… all I need is a cheap one to get me from here to my grandfather’s garage at the back of his property up at Falconbridge. Making it to the back, there is a 1997 Toyota Corolla, blue automatic, and a 2003 AU ford falcon. I think the corolla would be best, as it only had $1999 on it.

  After looking over it, I continue walking around the yard trying to find the salesman, who I saw on my way in. But, there is no sign of him. So, I make my way back down to the two older cars and have another quick look at both of them. I’ve got to say the ’97 Toyota Corolla does look far more interesting than the Falcon. Don’t get me wrong though, I do like Falcons, but I’m going to go with the more fuel-efficient one. Besides, it’s something I know a little better, if it does break down.

  The missing sales man appears out of nowhere, and makes his way straight over to me and says in his sales pitch tone, “G’day mate, you interested in buying one of these heaps, are ya?”

  I reply, a bit kept, but excitedly, “Yeah man, what’s the best price you could do for me on it?”

  He replies in his disapproving voice, “What? Isn’t the price good enough for ya?”

  I reply sarcastically, “Well, I could just walk out of this yard and go find the exact same one on gum tree for much less than you have on yours,” using my bargaining skills and tone, I continue, “Your choice though.”

  He walks away shaking his head without a word or comment. Five minutes go by and just when I think to leave, because it did not seem like he was coming back, he shows up again, heading over to me, he says aggrieved, “Righto buddy, you have it down at fifteen hundred.”

  I reply joyfully, “Yeah, right. I’ll take it. Write me up.”

  We then make our way to the office he is working in. Giving him my details, and handing him my licence to prove I have one, I purchase the car. Finalising it all, I walk out with the keys in hand to my new old-fashioned Corolla. Giggling as I open the door, I whisper to myself, I can’t believe after all the money I’ve just inherited that I’ve gone and brought a ’97 Corolla.

  Taking the driver’s seat for the first time in three years, I place the keys into the ignition to start it up. Turning the key, it churns like it has a flat battery. The salesman who came out with me has disappeared once again, but comes battling back moments later with a super jumper for the battery. Up goes the bonnet and on go the clamps from the super jumper, as the salesman says directly, “Start her up, mate.” Turning the key, she churned and then started up. Sounding a bit rough at first, the old girl simmers down and runs really well. Down comes the bonnet as the salesman refers me to leave by saying, “Okay mate, have a good day.”

  With just a nod, I put the shifter into drive, and drive out of the yard. After leaving the yard, I make my way to the motorway to head back up to Falconbridge, hopefully, to salvage whatever remains are left of my grandfather’s belongings.

  After entering the mountains only a few minutes away from my grandfather’s place, I think the whole trip up, about what could be salvageable at Pops’. Turning the radio up a little and this song is playing again and I caught the tail end of it, ‘Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa. Shake it out, shake it out oh whoa, and it’s hard to dance with the devil on your back, so shake it off.’

  When the song finished, the radio hosts spoke the name and artist of the song, “And that is a good hit from ‘Florence and the machine’ called ‘shake it out.’” I turn the radio off as I come up to my grandfather’s house, pulling into his driveway and parking the car.

  Hopping out of the car, I make my way up to the house, well what remains of it anyway, and just looking at it turns me away a bit. The stress of looking at it—from what it used to be, and to what it looks like now, burnt away with just the back part still there—is suffocating. About 100 metres behind, but beside the house, is Pops’ old shed with all of his tools and gadgets. So I trot along down to the shed to open it; he never had a lock on this thing because this is a pretty decent area.

  After opening the shed, I walk in and have a quick look around. I see an old box that doesn’t look like something my grandfather would keep, but it is here. Picking up the black box which has a little weight to it, I sit on one of his big old toolboxes that he just threw old tools and gadgets in, as if it were a mystery or something.

  Opening the box is a little hard; there is no lock on it. It is like it is welded shut. Shrugging my shoulders and letting out an ‘Ehh’ as I snarl, placing the box back up where I found it, on top of another old toolbox that Pop has. Yes he has a lot of toolboxes here, big ones, small ones, and a fare few scattered tools, which is a bit odd.

  Shifting things around, there is stuff dropping here and there. There is a kayak tied with rope to the inside of the roof of the shed. I don’t take much notice of it, until dad’s old golf clubs and bag slip off of another toolbox and smash into the kayak, which breaks the old rope holding it up at the roof. I grow in a bit of panic, wondering if I should catch it or not, instead I just duck and roll, in case anything is going to fly my way.

  In the process of everything falling, that old box I couldn’t get open gets knocked down. The fall has opened it; I move the kayak out of my way, which is lying on top of the box. My grandfather’s neighbour has heard the commotion and trotted over to make sure I’m not an intruder.

  She comes in to say, “Hello? Is anybody there?”

  I reply, a little shy, “Yeah, it’s me, David.”

  She replies scarcely, “David? I don’t know a David.” As she comes in front of the shed to see for herself, she says excitedly, “Oh, David! Melanie’s son, David?” she takes another few steps towards me, as she opens her arms, “Oh my God, I haven’t seen you in years! And I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  She continues, “So, you’re here to grab what your grandfather has left you?”

  I reply gracefully, “Honestly I’m just trying to salvage what is salvageable,” as I try and make my way across to her whilst stepping over all that fell.

  Still holding her arms out, her posture becomes valid for a hug, as she says happily, “It’s been such a long time since I last see you Davey.”

  I trip over a small box that came out of the larger one I was trying to open. Making my way to formally greet her for the first time in so many years, I say to her after giving her a polite cuddle and kiss upon the cheek happily, “It has been, Patricia, and I’m glad to see a familiar face here.”

  At that moment, Patricia looks down at the box I tripped over and says, gasping, “Oh! I remember that box! That’s the box with that board in it!”

  I ask Patricia out of curiosity, “What board?”

  She replies intimidated, “It’s a board your mother and I, used to play when you were very young.”

  I continue with curiosity, “Okay, so what is it?”

  As I pick up the box and start sliding the board out, Patricia says excitedly, “That’s right!” She takes a breath, “It’s the Ouija board!”

  I’m in shock of disbelief as I pull it the rest of the way out, then drop it. I ask Patricia out of concern, “Why did you and my mother have an Ouija board?”

  She replies sheepishly, “It isn�
��t ours, it is your Aunty Kay’s board.”

  I continue with the most curiosity I’ve ever had about anything. I didn’t even know it existed here, even though I had lived here for such a long time.

  “So what did you guys do with this thing?”

  She looks me dead in my eyes, then asks, “Do you want to take it inside and use it? I promise nothing bad will happen.”

  I reply, concerned, “I don’t think that is a good idea; I have a busy day ahead of me, but I would like to know more about why you and my mother used it?”

  She replies in a very hesitant voice, “No, no, no, I don’t need to tell you about that.”

  Worried and confused, I reply, “Why? What’s the matter? Did something happen?”

  Patricia replies, backing up, away from the garage, “No, nothing happened. I just don’t feel comfortable talking about it.”

  I reply, “Okay then.”

  Strangely, she walks away back over to her house, as her husband comes out from the back of the house. After hearing what is going on, he says in a low-keyed voice, “Mate, come down here.” Walking beside his house, that is beside my grandfather’s garage, out of sight from Patricia. He says calmly, low-keyed, “Tricia doesn’t want me telling you this, and please don’t hate me for telling you, but something strange happened with that board when your mother and she were using it. Out of no disrespect, I believe it has something to do with her and your father’s death, as your mother was driving when she left that day.” In complete shock, my mouth drops open as I stare at him. Going into a daze of shock from what I just heard.

  Instead of questioning Patricia, I think I’d question Jervis, Patricia’s husband about it. Out of curiosity, I ask away, “So, what happened exactly?”

  He continues, “It happened one night, many years ago; I was sitting on the seat in the lounge room as they were in the kitchen of your Pops’ house playin’ that damn thing! I then heard a loud thump; I jumped up, and something had your mother up against the wall in the kitchen, and then dropped her—your father came running into the kitchen screaming, ‘What was that?’ Your mother replied, ‘No, no, no. Please don’t hurt me.’ I swear she was talking to something in the room; your father grabbed your mother as she screamed, ‘IT’S COMING! LOOK OUT!’ Your father must have wreathed your mother out of the way just in time, and rushed her to the car. As he rushed her to the car, all the lights in your pops’ house switched off until they pulled out of the driveway, then they came back on. I then peered out the window as they took off down the street and the streetlights were going off one by one after them. It was later that night that we received the unwanted, dreadful call. And that’s why I believe the Ouija board has something to do with it. Tricia isn’t ready to tell you yet as she doesn’t want to break your heart.”