A Job Well Done by Chris Lloyd

Three friends were sitting drinking coffee. They were deciding which one of them would do the deed. It wasn’t going well.

Barry, Kenny and George were mates from way back. Same estate, same trouble, ducking and diving since they were in the last year of junior school. They’d all three encountered the local police and had spent time away from their loved ones for minor offences, (well minor in their eyes). At least they hadn’t topped anybody. However, topping was the subject on the table for discussion. The arguments were getting serious.

Barry was the largest and strongest of them therefore Kenny and George assumed he would do it. It would require some strength and bulk.  Barry though was more a gentle, genial giant. He had no appetite to do it. He was not about to agree it should be him. His wife would go ballistic and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

Barry and George turned to Kenny. Kenny had seen a topping after all. Had the experience so to speak. The hands on, eyeballs experience. Kenny knew that would come up and was ready. He played his ace card. He informed them that he was going to the governors’ meeting at the school that night. In any case, he assured them he did not remember the details of that topping. Kenny sighed as he relaxed in his chair.  That went well in his mind.

Expectations now pointed clearly to George. Barry and Kenny were all ears as to how it would be done. George stood to speak, coffee in hand, took a sip as he told them of his plan. It would, he said, be daring, would require strength, good management and skill.  The risk, he said, would be getting near enough without putting himself in danger. Barry and Kenny assured him that if he carried it out stealthily and carefully, his plan would work. They exchanged glances as George sat down.

It was agreed. The deed would take place during the school governors’ meeting, Kenny would create a noisy diversion. 

The time and day seemed to dawn very quickly to George. He was beginning to doubt his ability to actually do the deed. All day he paced up and down in his garden going through how it might pan out. He counted every minute. His eyes left his watch only momentarily. Then, unbelievably, the hour was upon him. Time seemed to slip into slow motion as he walked, his feet feeling like blocks of lead, to the place. He glanced around, checked that the coast was clear. He was there.

He went to where it would “go down” and waited. It was quiet. Too quiet by far. He was perched in a cramped position, his legs starting to get numb. Then suddenly, right on cue, the noise he was waiting for erupted from the governors’ meeting. George started the chain saw and began to top the old apple tree in the school garden, making it a safer place for children to play, including his six grandchildren.

It went very well.