Burke
Weird, perhaps pointless short story but worth a read, loosely based around an old friend of mine, strange humour probably not to everyones taste - just want some opinions.
As Burke approached the gate of the grounds of the prestigious Ramsey family estate, he could not help feeling overcome with a delightful sense of mischieviousness. He had waited so long to carry out the plan he had hatched all those years ago that he was able to justify this momentary lapse in concentration. Concentration, that was what was needed now, no slip-ups or the whole thing would go breast akimbo. This was it, no cowboy slip ups now. He had rehearsed this moment last night in the bath for nearly half an hour and in numerous baths before that. Burke always did all his thinking in the bath; the semi-nude mermaids decorating the tiles always made him relaxed, allowing him to ponder his thoughts more clearly. Burke was not a naturally vindictive man but this opportunity was too good to miss. Ramsey had it coming any way thought Burke to himself as he unsuccessfully tried to balance his conscience.
He and the Duke had never really got on despite sharing eighteen years of their education together. Ramsey was a pompous narcissist in Burke’s eyes an intellectual know all drop out in Ramseys but for the sake of politics they kept up a pretence of ‘old friends’. Ramsey had been put through the public school system and had got to the position he was through nepotism and a considerable amount of back scratching. Now, just days before his fortieth birthday he was in a position of considerable influence and power and in a perfect position for that matter to be exploited by Burke. He knew his victim’s life inside out.
Ramsey or his family to be precise was incredibly wealthy although, in his thirty-nine years of existence Ramsey had done his best to squander what life had bestowed upon him. It was not the manner in which Ramsey had got to where he was that particularly infuriated Burke, it was the smug way in which he flaunted it. At school it had always been the same Ramsey had effectively been able to buy his Cambridge degree in History through discreet donations to the Trinity coffers. He had therefore been able to live a cavalier lifestyle through out with doing significantly less than a small iota of actual work. It was for this reason that Burke had decided to actually carry out this particular far-fetched plan of his. In the past Burke, a natural but immensely lazy genius had devised numerous and ill-advised plans to make a fortune, but had never had the balls to go through with it and had always spotted crater like flaws in his ideas. On this occasion it was different, he had thought it through so thoroughly that unless he had seriously miscalculated, if he did what he had to he would be a millionaire before the week was out.
As he opened the gate, Burke noticed the elderly Japanese gardener was peering at him peculiarly over the top of his is Bosche 2000 professional edition motorised lawn mower. Burke considered for a second liberating the poor fellow from his 50 year long slavery on the Ramsey estate. He had been captured as a prisoner of war by Ramseys father in the Second World War, and by skillfully keeping him ignorant of world politics and of the English language they had gained the services of a skilled gardener ever since. Burke thought of the dirty look the gardener had given him and swiftly thought better of liberation on this visit. Maybe next time.
Burke strolled through the grounds and up to the imposing oak doorway, doing his best to radiate the impression of a man visiting to catch up with an old friend, his motives however were more sinister. Burke wrapped on the door three times stood back and listened to the loud footsteps approaching from the inside of the structure. At once the door opened,
Ramseys whose devastatingly tasteless dress sense had not changed since their last meeting answered the door in a brown pinstripe suit purple cravat and slippers. Grinning stupidly Ramsey blurted ‘Good to see you Burkey old boy’. He knew how much Burke hated it when people added a ‘y’ to his name. Serves him right thought Ramsey, shouldn’t be so bloody self-righteous.
As he was led into the dining area and sat down for a pre prepared late lunch, Burke went through the motions of the mundane but mandatory conversation of where each others lives were up to. Ramsey was unable to hide his smugness at his superiority over Burke in this department.
‘So how are you scratching a living these days then old boy?’ quizzed Ramsey desperately hoping for Burke to reciprocate the question.
But Burke was unable to concentrate; his head was spinning, he was within touching distance of executing his plan, there would be no turning back, he looked around the room for inspiration to spark his plan into motion. ‘Errrr yunno this and that.’ Oriental display pans attached to the far wall glistened in the afternoon sun. Burke considered for a moment the consequences that might occur if he was to jump up and pan, no it would be wok Duke Ramsey over the head until his ears bled.
In this momentary pause for thought in the dialect Ramsey took his chance to gloat: ‘Well as you probably know I have been made head of….’
Burkes eyes glazed over, ‘bugger blackmail’ he thought ‘a good Wokking’ was the answer.
He and the Duke had never really got on despite sharing eighteen years of their education together. Ramsey was a pompous narcissist in Burke’s eyes an intellectual know all drop out in Ramseys but for the sake of politics they kept up a pretence of ‘old friends’. Ramsey had been put through the public school system and had got to the position he was through nepotism and a considerable amount of back scratching. Now, just days before his fortieth birthday he was in a position of considerable influence and power and in a perfect position for that matter to be exploited by Burke. He knew his victim’s life inside out.
Ramsey or his family to be precise was incredibly wealthy although, in his thirty-nine years of existence Ramsey had done his best to squander what life had bestowed upon him. It was not the manner in which Ramsey had got to where he was that particularly infuriated Burke, it was the smug way in which he flaunted it. At school it had always been the same Ramsey had effectively been able to buy his Cambridge degree in History through discreet donations to the Trinity coffers. He had therefore been able to live a cavalier lifestyle through out with doing significantly less than a small iota of actual work. It was for this reason that Burke had decided to actually carry out this particular far-fetched plan of his. In the past Burke, a natural but immensely lazy genius had devised numerous and ill-advised plans to make a fortune, but had never had the balls to go through with it and had always spotted crater like flaws in his ideas. On this occasion it was different, he had thought it through so thoroughly that unless he had seriously miscalculated, if he did what he had to he would be a millionaire before the week was out.
As he opened the gate, Burke noticed the elderly Japanese gardener was peering at him peculiarly over the top of his is Bosche 2000 professional edition motorised lawn mower. Burke considered for a second liberating the poor fellow from his 50 year long slavery on the Ramsey estate. He had been captured as a prisoner of war by Ramseys father in the Second World War, and by skillfully keeping him ignorant of world politics and of the English language they had gained the services of a skilled gardener ever since. Burke thought of the dirty look the gardener had given him and swiftly thought better of liberation on this visit. Maybe next time.
Burke strolled through the grounds and up to the imposing oak doorway, doing his best to radiate the impression of a man visiting to catch up with an old friend, his motives however were more sinister. Burke wrapped on the door three times stood back and listened to the loud footsteps approaching from the inside of the structure. At once the door opened,
Ramseys whose devastatingly tasteless dress sense had not changed since their last meeting answered the door in a brown pinstripe suit purple cravat and slippers. Grinning stupidly Ramsey blurted ‘Good to see you Burkey old boy’. He knew how much Burke hated it when people added a ‘y’ to his name. Serves him right thought Ramsey, shouldn’t be so bloody self-righteous.
As he was led into the dining area and sat down for a pre prepared late lunch, Burke went through the motions of the mundane but mandatory conversation of where each others lives were up to. Ramsey was unable to hide his smugness at his superiority over Burke in this department.
‘So how are you scratching a living these days then old boy?’ quizzed Ramsey desperately hoping for Burke to reciprocate the question.
But Burke was unable to concentrate; his head was spinning, he was within touching distance of executing his plan, there would be no turning back, he looked around the room for inspiration to spark his plan into motion. ‘Errrr yunno this and that.’ Oriental display pans attached to the far wall glistened in the afternoon sun. Burke considered for a moment the consequences that might occur if he was to jump up and pan, no it would be wok Duke Ramsey over the head until his ears bled.
In this momentary pause for thought in the dialect Ramsey took his chance to gloat: ‘Well as you probably know I have been made head of….’
Burkes eyes glazed over, ‘bugger blackmail’ he thought ‘a good Wokking’ was the answer.
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