A missing character from the classic Australian comedy movie, The Castle.
Without further ado, continue with the story!
Never Leave a Man Behind
~..*..~
My name is Crayne Stalk, and this is my story.
Who are you, you might ask. I'm just a background man, really it was only after the Kerrigan court case that I became a part of their lives. But to most I'm known as a hired-hand.
It all started a month ago. Well truth be told, it had been brewing for a while before that, but I'll skip straight to the action.
So it was one month ago, when my mother and father contacted me for the first time in many, many years.
"A final job," they said, "we'll put our past behind us, and you can return home as our son!"
Home. The word never felt so sweet on the tongue. The job was easy enough; threaten a few locals and throw a bit of weight around. Truth be told, I was a bit of a softie - in fact I had a family of abandoned puppies at home; "Never leave a man behind," and all that - and so I was glad that their request didn't include any physical violence.
~..*..~
I remember smoothing my 'stache nervously - apparently it 'made me look tough' - and I knocked on the first door. A woman, wrapped in a blue bathrobe with a cigarette in hand, appeared to me in the doorway.
I was still desperately craving my parents' approval, my moral sense of justice warred it out with the possibility of acceptance after all these years, and the latter emerged victorious. I assumed a frown and twitched my nose - bloody itchy, that moustache! - and cleared my throat, preparing to deliver the message.
Shortly after I opened my mouth and growled out the first of my threats, I found myself staring at the peeling paint of the door that was still quivering from the force it was slammed with. Evonne, I think that lady was called. Gotta love a woman with attitude.
I sighed wearily and continued to the next house, and the one after. It was a similar affair - the old man told me just where he'd shove his walking stick, and the Lebanon had a distinct wrongness in his eyes as he explained, in detail, exactly how he was going to bomb me and my house.
~..*..~
Finally, I trudged up to the house with an unfinished patio and little burgundy door. I knocked and waited - the laughter I had heard prior to my knocking stopped abruptly, and I heard a chair scrape the floor. It sounded as though the occupants had been having dinner.
A middle-aged man with grey eyes was the one who opened the door. I put on a brave face (metaphorically speaking - in reality it was more of a scowl). It was too late to get cold feet; I'd already jumped foot-first into the icy water.
"I'm passing on a message." I grunted. The man looked confused, until it sunk in and then he became angry.
"Are you threatening me? Are you threatening me?" he said indignantly. I raised my hands calmly. No doubt this contempt further fuelled his fury, but I'd signed up for this. I gritted my teeth.
"You want my advice? Take the offer." I said with a raised eyebrow. Underneath my façade, I was on the verge of praying for the power of telepathy. Take the money. Take it before you're left with nothing but the clothes on your back. Take it now, and walk away.
I myself knew well what my parents were capable of; if there was someone or something in the way of their precious company, they would find a way to get rid of the obstruction. Apparently that included bribing their son with the offer of redemption. Yippee.
It seemed they didn't understand my implied message though, however good my intentions were. I found myself staring down the barrel of a gun, and let me just say that I deserve a medal. Didn't even flinch when the lad brought it out on me, it just drove the guilt a bit closer to home when I realised the wrongness of the situation.
I saw myself out quick-smart after that, unwilling to provoke them further.
It was later that night, when the policeman came around, that I had a sudden change of heart. After he questioned my parents about their gate, I pulled him aside and explained what I had done, like I was repenting a sin, and that I would be willing to help him out if he was going to press charges against my mother and father. My figurative feet were positively frozen at that point, but I was still careful about what I said to him, I didn't want to jump straight into hot water.
I think he got the gist of it though, and if in the morning I happened to pass the Kerrigans' house and notice a large, familiar gate, then no-one would be the wiser if it slipped my mind to tell my parents about it. I rang up that policeman though, and dropped a few hints about its whereabouts. I presume that he later reminded the Kerrigans to hide it a bit better.
~..*..~
The next few weeks passed by in a flurry, and I eagerly watched the progress of their court case. I learnt that that man's name was Darryl, and when he lost his case my heart poured out to him. Then he took it to the high court, and I cheered him on behind my mother and father's backs.
Lo and behold, Darryl won. But, humiliated and spited, my parents asked me to do the rounds again, and inflict a bit of property damage here and there to the Kerrigans and their neighbours. Now I'm no rocket scientist, but even I knew that that had crossed the line. I left them, and that's how I ended up here. Outside the now-famous Kerrigan house, watching the light spill out the windows and dance on that still-unfinished patio.
A party was going on inside, but I didn't have the guts to knock on that god-forsaken door. I must have stood out there for half an hour, screwing up my courage to man-up and apologise for my deeds.
I knocked, the door opened. And hallelujah, I saw the light. I had knocked on that door, done something for myself, decided to live a life without constantly trying to prove myself to others. I think I nearly cried.
Darryl looked mighty confused to see me standing there. When the other party-goers saw who it was, they hushed right up.
"I'm sorry, man." I said to him. My traitorous voice choked up, and I couldn't say anymore.
The policeman made eye-contact with Darryl, and they both nodded, Darryl turning back to me. My situation must have already been explained to him. And although there was no forsaking my actions, he must have realised the pressure I was under to do them.
He smiled, and clapped me on the shoulder. The party resumed behind him.
"Coming here was the right thing to do. You got guts, son." He said, beaming at me. Later I would apologise to him properly, but for now, I simply stared at him, dumbstruck. Before he left to rejoin the party, he looked back at me, and I swore at that moment, he saw into my soul.
"Well come on in, then! We never leave a man behind." He said, clapping me on the shoulder like I was his own son.
~..*..~
My name is Crayne Stalk, and that was my story.
Author's Note: Aw, wasn't that cute?
BTW, Crayne is supposed to have previous military experience, which explains his little motto and his casual regarding of a gun, but I cut that bit out of the story.
If inspired, and reviews help inspire (hint hint), I wll write a nice long story about Crayne's life up to that point - 20,000 words or so.
If you liked this, review. If you didn't like it, review with constructive criticism (no unnecessary flaming), and PM me and I'll get back to you ASAP.
Thank-you for reading my story!
Your humble author, -Moonlite Streak-