A memory of my crooked brother
From Daniel Pzalmanazar Lever - A novel
- Let me tell you, said William Strang, about the noble art of Kung Fu.
He lay on the front room floor, reddening in front of the gas fire. And reddening because his legs were stretched fully out and his toes were curled around the plastic covered twined wire of the Bullworker exercise machine. And reddening in his face too because his hands were pulling at the other wire, and he was creating a diamond shape with the thing on top of him, and he was holding with all of his might as he looked up at his brother who had just appeared. And he’d said - Let me tell you about the noble art of Kung Fu
Michael Strang was half in the room, his head around the door, holding the handle in his hand.
- Are you in on your own then? He asked
William let go the Bullworker and jigged up and raised his arms. He chopped the air and Kung Fu kicked in the direction of Michael. Stopping he looked at him and with an exaggerated eastern bow, he solemnly nodded.
- What have you been watching?
- Not watching, reading, said William
- Are you in alone? The door is wide open
- I am, said William, and I can look after myself
- Where is mother and father?
- They’ve taken Ruth out, William told him, to Church. You want a biscuit?
- No, have you eaten, do you want me to make you some food?
William slapped his flat stomach
- No, he said, I am in training to be a master.
- What a delicious thing is a younger brother, Michael, leaving told the room.
In the kitchen Michael made himself a pot of tea and stood waiting next to the quietly ticking kettle for the tea to draw. He took out a roll of money from his pocket that was kept tight by an elastic band. He removed the band, peeled away five notes, turned, and placed these in a green glazed jar on the kitchen window sill. Scrunching the bundle, he replaced the band.
Suddenly there, William was looking at him.
- Have the robbed a bank? He asked.
- Don’t be nosy, monkey boy.
- How much have you got? William asked him and then,
- How much did you put in the jar?
- Mind it, said Michael, tapping his nose.
- You all think, began William, you all think that I don’t see things but I do. Dad is the only one who doesn’t know.
Slipping the money into his pocket Michael sat down at the table so that he was head to head height with William. Then, placing a finger below the collar of his little brother’s tee shirt Michael wound round the material and pulled him close.
- And you are not going to tell him, he said
- Dad says, said William, that you are a petty crook, and he says not to turn out like you.
- Then don’t disappoint him, said Michael sharply, and don’t disappoint me either.
Michael watched him thinking this over and he smiled at his little brother and told him-
- Or else
- Did you rob a bank? asked William
Forming his hand into a gun Michael pulled the trigger. William shouted
- kapow!
and, flailing his arms, he staggered from the room to die and he landed at the feet of their father, who had just come in through the door.
James A Bullion May 2009
