Tommy Rae And Daz

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

A short passage from my novel - Million Pound Appointments - which can be found on this site.

Crime Lord Tommy Rae, loved the enormous Oak tree that stands in the middle of his four-acre lawn, as much as he loved smoking cigars, but unfortunately, they kept setting the sprinklers off. So one day he thought to himself, why not combine them both.

"You want us to build you a conservatory with this dirty great big oak tree stuck right in the middle of it?" Asked the builder.

"Yes."

"Build it around the tree?"

"Yes."

"That tree?"

"Yes."

"So the tree will be inside it?"

"Well that’s what your shitty little advert says, 'Custom built to your speculations…"

"Specifications."

"That’s what I said."

"I'm just worried about the floor."

"I don’t want a floor. I want to keep the grass. I want glass walls and a glass ceiling with the tree growing out the middle of it."

"And you're being serious?"

"I'm lots of things, but patient isn't one of them, nor is being a comedian, and nor is talking to mormons for too long."

"Mormons?"

"Yes. Fucking mormons like you."

"How on earth did you know I was a Mormon? Are you one too? Have we met in church?"

Daz wants to tell Tommy Rae that he's saying the wrong word again; he should be saying, moron, but as he's finding it rather funny, he doesn't.

"Do you like hospital food?"

"Huh?"

"Do you want this fucking job or not?" Tommy screams.

"Yes. But the tree's still growing."

"Well make the hole a big one."

"But then the rain will get in."

"Well put big gutters around the trunk and it won't."

"They’ll have to be specially made."

"I like specially made. Things specially made, are normally well made."

"Do birds sit in it?"

"It's a fucking tree, of course they do."

"Birds mess and a glass roof could be a problem."

"Put wipers on the roof."

"Wipers?"

"Yeah. I press a button, water comes out, and the wipers clean it off… Custom built to your speculations?"

"Specifications."

"Have you met Daz?"

Just looking at Daz stopped all the builder's questions.

"Well it'll have to go on what we call a floating base…"

"Jesus wept. You could win a gold medal for boring a man to death. Can you build the fucking thing or not?"

"Yeah we can build it, but it'll cost an arm and a leg."

"Well it's just as well that I've got an arm and a leg then, isn't it? Would you like cash – now?"

"No that won't be necessary. Fifty percent up front and the rest when we've finished?"

"Done. Now get on with it."

They got on with it, and Tommy Rae and Daz would get into a golf buggy, which they called, The Smoke-Mobile, drive the eighteen-seconds it took to get to the glass conservatory, which they called, The Old Smokey Oaky, and both enjoy their favourite brand of 'Punch' Havana cigars. 

 


Submitted: May 28, 2020

© Copyright 2021 M.T.Higgins. All rights reserved.

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