A suitably dressed man and his wife passed by the dumpsters at the end of the lane. The man said, ‘Wait, a taxi is coming.’ ‘Of course, dear,’ said the woman dutifully.
When it came, it splashed a lot of filthy water on them, from a great puddle by the curb, the woman flew back and banged her arm into the corner of the dumpster. What looked like a child in the darkness grabbed her wrist and started playing with her purse. Too busy wringing out her dress, she didn’t notice the presence of the young wino and they followed her husband into the cab.
They took their seats, and the man said, ‘Earl’s Court, No. 3, by Coronation St.’ Wringing the water from the leg of his trousers. Then, seeing the child for the first time, he shrugged and opened his newspaper.
So began his new life, he slept on a cushion at the back of the kitchen, and was forced to help the woman, who identified herself as Mrs. Molly. She was always in the kitchen cooking pork chops. Mrs. Molly had an older son, William whose job it was to serve and protect the wino. They decided that his name would be William II.
At the end of every working day – they were not permitted to work on the Lord’s Day – William was given fifty cents and was told to share it with William II, like a good boy. This was always a moment of great mirth and enjoyment in the kitchen: William pocketed the money and glared so fiercely that young William II was rendered speechless.
This went on for ten uneventful years, William counted them like lost pigs, caught in a rainstorm and crowded into the doorway, to escape from the wolves that patrolled the streets.
Then one silent night, William II took William’s switchblade from its place under William’s pillow. He stirred in his sleep, but the fatigue of the day’s work was too great for him to wake up. William II, after lying in the dark thinking for a few hours, was suddenly attacked by the older boy, who had crouched on top of him, choking him. ‘What did you do with my knife?’ ‘Nothing.’ Came the half-strangled answer. ‘I didn’t know you had one.’ Before you could say ‘Twinkle-toes dandelion!’ William was thrown off, with William II leaned against the woodburner, knife in hand. The moon smiled in the door window at the scene.
Just then, the lights were thrown on, showing Mr. Molly, holding a shotgun, with his wife trailing behind. ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ he demanded, then registered the sight of Wiliam II leaning against the woodburner, knife in hand, and the convulsing body of Wiliam. Everyone was screaming, and Mr. Molly stepped into the room, and said, ‘Stay right where you are, murderer!’ A hysterical series of words, like bullets from a machine gun, could be heard from the hall, where Mrs. Molly was on the telephone, reporting the happenings of Earl’s Court, No. 3.
‘The police are coming!’ she reassured everyone hysterically, the son was shrieking for an ambulance, and the younger son, on Mr. Molly’s command, dropped the knife. While Mr. Molly cornered the murderer, the son went crashing through the house, knocking over a lamp, and eventually collapsed on the couch, his hand on his stomach.
After she stopped shaking, she called for an ambulance.
By the time the police showed up, he was unconscious, but Mr. Molly was still in the kitchen, guarding William II, who would later be dubbed the Killer of Earl’s Court, No. 3.
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