Photo: © Al Forbes 2014

 

Yes sir, I thought that the name Ahab Smerk was a bit fishy. I met him on a boating holiday in Wales. But he was a smooth operator – craftily introducing his business proposition to me over a complimentary Scampi and Chips.

As I wiped the tartare sauce from his glossy brochure, I could see that Smerk was deadly serious. He was looking for some investors interested in a little offshore action. ‘Smerk Leisure Park at Sea. All the profits are Tax free!’

It did seem ambitious, but there were photos of the Rollercoaster being towed into position. At least that’s what he said.

But when I mentioned that some of my colleagues at the Tax office might be interested in this venture, and he upped anchor and slipped into the sunset.

The thing was, he left all of these Share Certificates and Literature behind. And it seemed a shame not to sell them, just to the diners in the café, initially.

Then things really took off. Pretty soon, I’d set up a stall on the seafront at weekends. Not a bad place for a shell corporation!

But the tide soon turned, and I was left high and dry. Those pesky investors scuppered the deal.

So, Judge, if you’ll show me some leniency on a first offence, I can give you some sound tax advice. And I might let you in on another sweet deal I’m working on.

 

This story is prompted by Sunday Photo Fiction: 18 May 2014, hosted by Al Forbes. Click the logo for more details.

 

To view the other stories on this prompt, click the blue frog!

 

Photo: © Al Forbes 2014

 

Arthur North looked out of his shop window, and noticed a young woman in a smart business suit climbing out of a black Ford. She walked over towards his door. He rushed over, and opened it with a flourish.

“Hello, young lady! Welcome to Art N Antiques. Don’t get many of you City types down here. I bet you’re from one of those swanky Kensington galleries?” The woman smiled.

“You’re welcome to have a look around, Miss. In fact I’ve got a new piece you might like to have a look at. ‘The Blue Lady’, I call her.

“Here we are. It’s a bit too modern for my liking, but those high rollers in the West End will lap it up. I can see you’re taken by it. £500 shall we say? We do a Delivery service at cost price.”

The woman nodded silently as she walked around the shop, making a few notes. She appeared to be talking to herself. Within moments, two large men in suits casually walked over from the Ford and into the shop. They waited by the door.

The woman approached Arthur with a consoling smile. “Sorry, Artie. I’m one of the ‘Ladies in Blue’ myself – Detective Inspector Turner, Kent C.I.D. That artwork was stolen from outside the ‘Raisin D.’ Bar in Dover last week. As it turns out, you’ve got a few pieces that interest me. It’s okay, I can collect. Get your coat, Arthur!”

 

Story prompted by Sunday Photo Fiction, May 11 2014, hosted by Al Forbes. Click the link for more details.

To view the other stories in this week’s challenge, click the logo.

 

I had the idea of getting out, from one of those old war movies. The one with all those great escapes in. I’ve been watching those builders taking scrap metal out at 4pm every day. Back at 6pm. I knew that would give me all the time I needed.

There’s some loose planks on the back of the truck that leave enough room for me and the stuff. I’ve done this run a few times so I know the routine. They always call at the pub on the retail park, to have a meal and a pint. Then drop the scrap at the tip, before going back.

The thing is, when you’ve been ‘inside’ for as long as we have, you need something to brighten the place up. ‘Homely Bargain Bins’ is our shop of choice. They have some tasteful home decor, in the latest styles, and at reasonable prices. Especially when you know the security guards.

I’ve just taken a photo of the van with my new smartphone. It’s a five finger discount, of course.

It’s time to get back aboard. Don’t worry, I’ve got three hundred honest lads who’ll give me an alibi. If you’re wondering why we need a lot of stuff? Because we live in a big house!

 

This is my contribution to Sunday Photo Fiction, May 04 2014, Hosted by Al Forbes. For more details, click the logo. 

To view the other stories in this challenge, click the blue frog!

 

People say that I should have moved that pile of mechanical wreckage away from the ‘For Sale’ sign. That it ‘sends out the wrong message’.

To be honest, there was a time when I didn’t know if I’d rather sell the farm, or have the bank take it off me. I’d had it with farming, despite that being all I’d ever known.

That pile of rust was my father’s pride and joy. The first plough he was able to buy from new. When the time came, he handed it down to me. But then our contracts kept reducing in value, year on year. We’d have been better off taking European subsidies to not grow certain crops. You couldn’t make it up!

But now I’ve found a better way. I’ve got myself an even bigger government grant to start a Living Farm Museum. Some of it will show how some farms have gone to the wall. Other parts will form a working enterprise, selling straight to the public. No expensive middlemen taking their cut.

I’m sure Dad would have been proud.

 

This is my contribution to Sunday Photo Fiction, 27 April 2014, hosted by Al Forbes. If you’d like to know more, click the logo.

 

If you’d like to read the other stories, click the blue frog!