A Crop Of...: Episode 17: No Good Deed goes Unpunished

From Under Dark Clouds

'From Under Dark Clouds...' is a Gonzo fictionalisation of current events in Greece as seen through the eyes of our unnamed hero as he fumbles from paranoia to public office, under the mentorage of the shady Socrates.

Each episode is based on real events. Readers are invited to share their experiences for the Under Dark Clouds treatment. Many have been included in cameo roles, can you spot them?

See link below for contributions

I don’t mind telling you, my dear Blogees, I was feeling fine. The fair lady Mayoress had been so overcome with pride by my selfless benevolence for the good people of this town that she bestowed great and glorious benediction upon my lowly being; twice. And once more before waking the kids for school. I was first into the town hall that morning and as I sat, almost looking forward to Mike the IT guy's coffee, I wore a smile that made my head numb, although that could well have been due to forgetting to remove my helmet.

I drew up an agenda and spent the rest of the day in a series of meetings with all the staff to tell them how fabulously I thought they were doing their jobs. Some had to explain exactly what job they did, which, strangely some were unable to do. But I told them one by one how marvellous I thought they were. None of them returned the compliment but I suppose it can be difficult to applaud your mayor. Don’t worry, they’ll vote.

Why aren't they taking us seriously

At the end of play, I was eager to get home for some home-cooked fayre and some quality time with the kids, who were, by the way, also awesome. I mounted my trusty Vespa, dismounted then went back into the office to retrieve my helmet; safety first!

What greeted me on the way home could only be described as a media circus. I know it was a circus because as I rolled closer the crowd opened and I felt like the act with the baggy trousers and the collapsing car. Some of the new residents were gathered around the entrance to the new Town hall plaza. Despina’s boy looked scared and was clutching a large club to his chest although on closer inspection it could have been a bread-stick. There were cheers and excitement and reporters. With a shudder, I remembered the last run-in with these vultures but felt resolute in the fact that I was the hero of the day and they were not going to steal my thunder. As the crowd opened I spotted the local priest, stealing my thunder.

Despina had invited him to bless their new home. He was waving bushels and books and each of the residents were receiving lots of symbolism. I parked up and tried to observe from a safe distance.

After the main blessing, he took the forum and began to tell the reporters and the gathered crowd about the extent of my christian charity, by that time he had pulled me close and was referring to me as a vessel of the Orthodox God’s grace. I was unaware that there was an unorthodox God, I always assumed that it was his game and he made the rules; go figure. He continued to praise the faith in God’s great plan for these Christian sons and daughters and that their prayers would always be answered, so long as they stayed true to the chosen path, a fate that could not be expected by those who had strayed from the flock of our lord. I began to feel a little uncomfortable, I don’t mind telling you, dear Bloggees. He began to describe some of the less desirable fates that could be expected by those who had weakness of will and sullied faith. Had he read my file?

Dante laughed his head off

His speech was definitely rousing and caused some stir amongst the crowd, not least with some of the black shirts with the minimalist haircuts who had filtered into the crowd. He drew breath and smiled down at me, who he had released from his hug but continued to hold by the shirt sleeve. Christ! (sorry!), he had heavy hands; the work of the lord must be one hell (sorry, again!) of a workout. I readied myself for my turn, when I undoubtedly would be expected to talk about my most Christian service to the community.

His breath was exhaled with more words; I continued to smile and nod like some comical sidekick. Finally, the forum was mine; his holiness left and so did the crowd.

All that was left was the press but I puffed up my chest for an official address. Meetings, signing stuff and public addresses, it’s what mayors do best! I began to tell the gathered, such as they were, that this was the least that we could do in lieu of the great service provided by the good —. Yes, all the new residents were employees of the town council. Yes, they had all been made homeless, for a variety of reasons. No, they would not have the accommodation deducted from their salaries and I could give no substance to the rumour that they had not been paid by the council in nearly a year.

I made to continue my address— . Yes, I was aware that the property belonged to the previous mayor and yes, he would have to take the credit for this philanthropy.

The crowd dispersed along with my smile and I walked away with the priest, vessel of God’s will, eh? He looked at me with sagely eyes and patted my shoulder. “The lord works in mysterious ways, my son.” He repeated the words very mysterious with a gentle shake of his head and a sympathetic gaze.

I expressed my appreciation for his kind words and that I did feel rather good about what I’d achieved with this place, not pride or anything sinful, of course, just helpful and good, but not righteous, but all things considered that maybe he had been a little strong on the atheists and —.

“Were all those horrid things a metaphor or could I really expect…”

Oxymoron?

“You, my son, have done well and have nothing to fear from the wrath of the lord.” I deflated with relief. “But, my child, you are in a world of shit if your predecessor discovers what you are doing with his building.” He smiled, took his heavy hand from my shoulder and left.

Just then my phone rang, it was Socrates. He was furious. He had spent the last two hours with our lawyer. I made a mental calculation of the cost, those bastards are expensive! Maybe he could give us a wholesale rate, considering the amount of work we had given him since my foray into the world of politics. He told me of the calls back and forth to Switzerland and the way our lawyer had physically soiled himself when he discovered who was representing the plaintiff. Then, I finally fell in….

…the ex-mayor had found out I had subleased his property.

Where it all began