Clarke at Number 200 and The Poor Zombie Neighbours

A short story by Carl at Number 2 Bramblewick from the ‘Clarke at Number 200 Collection’ (a writing project suggested by my therapist)

Clarke at Number 200, Hamelwitch, suddenly became a multi-millionaire. Don’t worry about the hows or whys. Just know that he was now rich beyond his wildest imagination, could finally pursue his dream of opening up a pineapple shop, and no longer had to worry about anything in life.

Or so he thought.

Tell me, short story reader, if someone in your life suddenly became a multi-millionaire and wanted to set up a mango, sorry, pineapple shop, wouldn’t you be delighted for him? Yeah, so would I!

Well, Clarke’s poor neighbours (poor as in skint, not poor as in ‘oh poor you’) hated me, sorry, Clarke, because of his money.

In fact, you’ve arrived in this short story at the point in which Clarke’s house is being surrounded by every single one of his neighbours. They are growling and chanting and booing him. Some of them are kicking his trees. One of them is vomiting on his driveway. Several of them are climbing up his windows.

BANG!

One of them just knocked Clarke’s front door down.

SHIT!