Ruth wandered about the backyard deciding if she should kill herself. She also thought of the shopping she had to do today. Killing herself may be a bit drastic. It would probably involve a mess and she thought about the being found part – the by who and how. She may not be found, well not for a week at least.
She’d heard on the news that a seriously deaf mother who was an award-winning hoarder failed to realise that her son had died in another room and remained decomposing there for many smelly years. Wow, thought Ruth, there had to be a calm, simple and clean method that would suit her. Popping off while she slept kind of a thing. An alarm going off to alert others when she’d gone. Maybe Woolworths or Coles had such a thing.
Ruth wasn’t really at the sharp end of the pointy thing business. She was the thick, the required, yet unglamorous section further up or down depending on your point of view. Many failed to view Ruth, she was a wallflower that was hiding behind the cliched umbrella plant of indoor design. Ruth was sad. In need of a lively jolt and some action. Ruth watched her daily soap daily and convinced herself that that was enough. She enjoyed what she thought was her mundane life, yet yearned for more. Not more mundane of course but some real action. Ruth thought a lot about the ugly duckling type storyline and wondered if she was hiding such a transformation. Sadly her wallflower persona was pretty accurate.
Alan was hiding in the bushes the front yard of the house while Ruth was being morbid in the back. Alan had plans to rob the shit out of this house and sell the silly crap these local yokels had so he could to buy some quality escapism. Some drugs to ride the much called for ups and downs, some to go up, some to ride and some to allow the slide down. Alan was also and always a randy bugger and required a blood supply trigger for the rare occasion he’d meet the girl of his dreams. Actually, that girl had gone, but he was not in a position to be fussy nowadays, certainly not when he was off his tits. Him and his tits sat with his best drug partnered friends in a shit hole of a house. This decaying property was nearly always occupied. It could have been a movie set but even a desperate and dedicated film crew wouldn’t enter. The Police decided to leave it alone as well.
Ruth walked back inside and rummaged about for her purse and go card wallet. She lugged herself and the rewards of her shopping expeditions about on the local bus service. Ruth had no car. Aside from shopping and work she had nowhere else to go so she didn’t need a car. The bus was grand, cheap, clean and went where she was going. What more could you want? Well, actually a lot more.
Alan had dozed off in the bushes and was startled when Ruth came out through the front door. He was very nearly caught there squatting in her garden. Ruth was oblivious, Alan was pleased and relieved. The front door was a snack, open and in he went looking for local yokel crap. Bingo ! this place was a treasure trove. Alan called his drug-addled mate who rolled around the corner in the van disguised as a telecommunications company vehicle. It was used to cart the crap away and sometimes when the opportunity arose provided a sexy mobile location for some warm rainproof shagging. Alan liked shagging in the van, it reminded him of the panel van days of old. No rocking but some serious sliding nowadays. The duo of clumsy burglary got down to it. They helped themselves to Ruth’s TV, sound bar, iPad and desktop PC. They also found about 5k in notes stuffed in her underwear drawer. There were only 5 sets of knickers in that drawer and all the same colour and type, which Alan though quite odd. They looked nice but why only 5? Putting this confusing discovery aside he joined his mate for the last race around to see what else that they could grab. Alan also missed the contents of the wardrobe, 5 lonely light blue overalls hanging in a lonely row. Alan suddenly noticed Ruth in the doorway.
Ruth had only got about 50 metres around the corner and realised she’d forgotten her weekly banking. The Sad Old Fuckers MC allowed Ruth to cook meth in her garage and paid her every week when they collected her fresh supply. Aside from being as boring as a glass of water and having the spark of a wet paper bag, Ruth was the most efficient cook and courier the SOF had ever had. While Ruth was on her way back Mac the SOF Sargent in Arms who’d been watching his CCTV feed of Ruth’s house, was on his way back as well. Him and two rather generously endowed big Sad Old Fuckers. All three were enormously big, mad, affected by drugs and eager for some smash the fuck out of someone. Alan and his dim mate looked like they would be the someones.
The day didn’t end well at all. Alan and his dim mate were bashed that fucking hard and often they could only dribble when the Police found them tied together in the back of the oddly disguised van. Even stranger was the overabundance of condoms, lube and adult entertainment in the van with them, with the word TEVLLSTRA handwritten on the outside. Alan, it turned out was an indirect customer of the SOF MC but a lesson had to be learnt and broadcast to all the other dumb fuckers who may try to interfere with their business.
Ruth forgot all about killing herself. She returned to her shopping, her soap and amazingly found love in the form of a bus driver called Trevor. As she was running late and missed her usual bus she met a new driver and the two of them hit it off. They hit it off like rabbits and kept on hitting it off.