Master Grene's House
One
One
London, 1834
“Why are you here?” asked the man at the door.
“I’m looking for Roderick Jackson.” Replied Percy.
“Are you a queer? I don’t want queers coming in here. I’ve got a respectable business.”
“How’d you guess?”
“Flower in your shirt. Anyone who goes about with a flower on his shirt is defiantly a queer.”
“Let me pass.” Said Percy, handing him a purse, “I have money, if that’s what you want.”
“That’s exactly what I want.” Said the man, taking it, “I’ll bring him out.”
*****
Percy waited. God dammit. He thought He’s at it again.
Percy had never in his life been in an opium den. But from what he’s heard they were filthy places, full of smoke and liquor. He heard that people would stay there for hours, days at a time. That was true with Roderick. Percy hadn’t seen him for two whole days.
Percy took the crumpled piece of paper out of his waistcoat pocket that. It read:
Notice
To Mr. Percival Garrick Andrews and Mr. Roderick Phillip Jackson. Your rent is due. You owe me a total sum of 31£, four schillings and sixpence. If you do not have this money by the end of the month you will be evicted from your apartment, no questions asked. This is the third time I have reminded you of the fact and I have no desire to explain it again.
Your Landlord
Mr. Nathan Charlotte Broderick
Percy sighed heavily. Roderick had wasted all their money on opium and he could barely find enough to eat.
The man returned, “’E can’t get up.”
“What do you mean ‘can’t get up?” asked Percy.
“ ‘is legs gave way. ‘E can’t get up.”
“Why?”
“ ‘Ow the ‘ell should I know, laddie.” He said, taking a sliver snuffbox from his pocket.
“Is it the opium?”
“The opium and the ale.” Returned the man, snorting some tobacco from the box, “ ‘E’s ‘ad about five pints of it. ‘E takes out ‘is Longfellow and pisses everywhere.”
“A bit too much information, don’t you think?” Said Percy, disgusted.
“It’s the truth, mate.”
“Take me to him.”
“As you wish”
*****
The opium den was a musty place that smelt of whiskey and smoke. Lots of smoke. Scattered around the room were some tables and chairs. All of the men who were there were completely still, like statues, frozen in awkward positions and either completely silent or muttering something under their breath.
He walked through the maze of men in search of Roderick. Heheard a familiar voice, “Bering me another goddam pipe, will you?”
He found him, sitting on the floor, with a whiskey bottle in his hand. “Get your filthy ass up!”
“What?” he slurred, “Percy?”
“We’re going home.”
“Percy, I’ve only had three, or four, pipes… well….. I forgot how many, but you can be sure…”
“I can’t be sure of anything with you. We’re going home. You are never to come back here again. Get up!”
“But…”
“GET UP!”
Roderick struggled to stand up and flung his arm around Percy’s shoulder as they headed for the door.
London, 1834
“Why are you here?” asked the man at the door.
“I’m looking for Roderick Jackson.” Replied Percy.
“Are you a queer? I don’t want queers coming in here. I’ve got a respectable business.”
“How’d you guess?”
“Flower in your shirt. Anyone who goes about with a flower on his shirt is defiantly a queer.”
“Let me pass.” Said Percy, handing him a purse, “I have money, if that’s what you want.”
“That’s exactly what I want.” Said the man, taking it, “I’ll bring him out.”
*****
Percy waited. God dammit. He thought He’s at it again.
Percy had never in his life been in an opium den. But from what he’s heard they were filthy places, full of smoke and liquor. He heard that people would stay there for hours, days at a time. That was true with Roderick. Percy hadn’t seen him for two whole days.
Percy took the crumpled piece of paper out of his waistcoat pocket that. It read:
Notice
To Mr. Percival Garrick Andrews and Mr. Roderick Phillip Jackson. Your rent is due. You owe me a total sum of 31£, four schillings and sixpence. If you do not have this money by the end of the month you will be evicted from your apartment, no questions asked. This is the third time I have reminded you of the fact and I have no desire to explain it again.
Your Landlord
Mr. Nathan Charlotte Broderick
Percy sighed heavily. Roderick had wasted all their money on opium and he could barely find enough to eat.
The man returned, “’E can’t get up.”
“What do you mean ‘can’t get up?” asked Percy.
“ ‘is legs gave way. ‘E can’t get up.”
“Why?”
“ ‘Ow the ‘ell should I know, laddie.” He said, taking a sliver snuffbox from his pocket.
“Is it the opium?”
“The opium and the ale.” Returned the man, snorting some tobacco from the box, “ ‘E’s ‘ad about five pints of it. ‘E takes out ‘is Longfellow and pisses everywhere.”
“A bit too much information, don’t you think?” Said Percy, disgusted.
“It’s the truth, mate.”
“Take me to him.”
“As you wish”
*****
The opium den was a musty place that smelt of whiskey and smoke. Lots of smoke. Scattered around the room were some tables and chairs. All of the men who were there were completely still, like statues, frozen in awkward positions and either completely silent or muttering something under their breath.
He walked through the maze of men in search of Roderick. Heheard a familiar voice, “Bering me another goddam pipe, will you?”
He found him, sitting on the floor, with a whiskey bottle in his hand. “Get your filthy ass up!”
“What?” he slurred, “Percy?”
“We’re going home.”
“Percy, I’ve only had three, or four, pipes… well….. I forgot how many, but you can be sure…”
“I can’t be sure of anything with you. We’re going home. You are never to come back here again. Get up!”
“But…”
“GET UP!”
Roderick struggled to stand up and flung his arm around Percy’s shoulder as they headed for the door.
♠ ♠ ♠
Tell me what you think!