HOME | DD

Description
Fiver a go – Everyone’s a Winner, the notice said, sleazy Victorian-style scrawl swaying effortlessly in the winter chill. Behind the sign stood a man with an equally sleazy Victorian-style top hat crumpled on his head, the front brim of which was worn thin by the hand continually running across it in a sweeping gesture. Hanging under the hat was an uneven curtain of slightly wavy black hair with streaks of premature grey lining it, which only added to the blast-to-the-past effect.

Looking up to the scant crowd gathered around the stall, the man raised his arms, his mouth twisting into a smirk. Showtime. “Ladies and gents, please, gavver round. I guarantee you will not ‘ave any regrets. Just a fiver a go t’ enjoy the show. You Sir,” the man in the top hat said, skipping around the edge of the stand to grab a lone spectator by the elbow and link their arms together, pulling them round to face the other onlookers. “Am I right in sayin’ that you, Sir, are a very intelligent man?” Unsure what to say, the participant just chuckled nervously with a muttered, I’m not so sure about that. “You’re jus’ bein’ modest. Now, Sir, tell me; d’y’ave a dream?” The top-hatted man leaned in close and stared at the man’s face, studying the eyes for an answer.

Feeling perhaps even more awkward at this invasion of privacy, the man curtly replied, “Everyone has a dream. Some simply do not wish to share it with others.” Seemingly pleased with this answer, the stall owner grinned, creating ripples of lines around the corners of his mouth.

“Well, Sir, no need to be shy. I’m sure we can come to some sort’a agreement. Ladies and gents, would you like to see this lovely bloke ‘ere fulfil his dream?” There was a murmur of vague agreement from the growing number of people come to witness the spectacle, so the man continued. “Just a fiver, Sir, and I can make you anyfing you want to be. That’s a fair deal, yeah?”

“I don’t think so. I’m sorry, but I really have somewhere to be right now. I’m late enough as it is.” The stall owner just tightened his grip. Are you sure about that, mate? It really would be good if y’ could stay. Y’ don’t want to disappoint now, do ya?

“Well, Sir, if time travel’s your fing, I’m sure I’m more than ‘appy to accommodate. Now who here would like to see this charmin’ young gent go back in time, so’s not to be late to this very event?” There were a few whispers in the crowd, the claim garnering a breathy snort from a lady in the back row. “Just please come this way, Sir, and we can get started.” The top-hatted man reached around the volunteer’s back and steered him back around the stall to a greyscale zigzagged screen, covered with prints of flowers and spirals and stars that seemed to continue into infinity.

The volunteer looked at it sceptically and frowned at the stall owner. “How long will this take? I really need to get going.”

The Victorian-style man smiled reassuringly and patted him on the back, walking him to just behind the screen. “T’ be perfec’ly honest, Sir, I’m not entirely convinced you’ll be able t’ make that official-soundin’ appointment.” His grin widened, revealing a set of slightly misaligned teeth, and the accent dropped to give way to a plainer, more southern voice. “In fact, I’m not sure you’ll need to worry about those appointments again.”

“What is this?” The volunteer started to back away, trying to get back in earshot of the public, but the other man’s grip had quite firmly moved down to his wrist at some point in the conversation.

“When you see them, tell them good Mister Calico sent you,” and with these final gleeful words, the conman pushed the volunteer behind the screen.

“Ladies an’ gents,” the conman spoke out loud, raising his arms to the side, “I do believe you’ll find this to be a most exciting finale to your afternoon.” He took hold of the screen and with a single sweeping gesture folded it back on itself to reveal a plain brick wall making up one side of a shop. There was a washed out noise of disbelief from the crowd and a few in the middle strained their necks to try and spot the now-gone volunteer.

“I thank you all fer your time ‘ere tonight an’ I ‘ope you’ve enjoyed yourself. Please,” he emphasized, removing his hat and holding it outstretched to the public, “just a little bit ‘a cutter to help a poor man out, if you’d be so kind.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Somewhere, in the middle of nowhere, a man in a suit and tie woke up, so very late to his appointment, and realised a fiver was missing from his wallet.

Description
Fiver a go – Everyone’s a Winner, the notice said, sleazy Victorian-style scrawl swaying effortlessly in the winter chill. Behind the sign stood a man with an equally sleazy Victorian-style top hat crumpled on his head, the front brim of which was worn thin by the hand continually running across it in a sweeping gesture. Hanging under the hat was an uneven curtain of slightly wavy black hair with streaks of premature grey lining it, which only added to the blast-to-the-past effect.

Looking up to the scant crowd gathered around the stall, the man raised his arms, his mouth twisting into a smirk. Showtime. “Ladies and gents, please, gavver round. I guarantee you will not ‘ave any regrets. Just a fiver a go t’ enjoy the show. You Sir,” the man in the top hat said, skipping around the edge of the stand to grab a lone spectator by the elbow and link their arms together, pulling them round to face the other onlookers. “Am I right in sayin’ that you, Sir, are a very intelligent man?” Unsure what to say, the participant just chuckled nervously with a muttered, I’m not so sure about that. “You’re jus’ bein’ modest. Now, Sir, tell me; d’y’ave a dream?” The top-hatted man leaned in close and stared at the man’s face, studying the eyes for an answer.

Feeling perhaps even more awkward at this invasion of privacy, the man curtly replied, “Everyone has a dream. Some simply do not wish to share it with others.” Seemingly pleased with this answer, the stall owner grinned, creating ripples of lines around the corners of his mouth.

“Well, Sir, no need to be shy. I’m sure we can come to some sort’a agreement. Ladies and gents, would you like to see this lovely bloke ‘ere fulfil his dream?” There was a murmur of vague agreement from the growing number of people come to witness the spectacle, so the man continued. “Just a fiver, Sir, and I can make you anyfing you want to be. That’s a fair deal, yeah?”

“I don’t think so. I’m sorry, but I really have somewhere to be right now. I’m late enough as it is.” The stall owner just tightened his grip. Are you sure about that, mate? It really would be good if y’ could stay. Y’ don’t want to disappoint now, do ya?

“Well, Sir, if time travel’s your fing, I’m sure I’m more than ‘appy to accommodate. Now who here would like to see this charmin’ young gent go back in time, so’s not to be late to this very event?” There were a few whispers in the crowd, the claim garnering a breathy snort from a lady in the back row. “Just please come this way, Sir, and we can get started.” The top-hatted man reached around the volunteer’s back and steered him back around the stall to a greyscale zigzagged screen, covered with prints of flowers and spirals and stars that seemed to continue into infinity.

The volunteer looked at it sceptically and frowned at the stall owner. “How long will this take? I really need to get going.”

The Victorian-style man smiled reassuringly and patted him on the back, walking him to just behind the screen. “T’ be perfec’ly honest, Sir, I’m not entirely convinced you’ll be able t’ make that official-soundin’ appointment.” His grin widened, revealing a set of slightly misaligned teeth, and the accent dropped to give way to a plainer, more southern voice. “In fact, I’m not sure you’ll need to worry about those appointments again.”

“What is this?” The volunteer started to back away, trying to get back in earshot of the public, but the other man’s grip had quite firmly moved down to his wrist at some point in the conversation.

“When you see them, tell them good Mister Calico sent you,” and with these final gleeful words, the conman pushed the volunteer behind the screen.

“Ladies an’ gents,” the conman spoke out loud, raising his arms to the side, “I do believe you’ll find this to be a most exciting finale to your afternoon.” He took hold of the screen and with a single sweeping gesture folded it back on itself to reveal a plain brick wall making up one side of a shop. There was a washed out noise of disbelief from the crowd and a few in the middle strained their necks to try and spot the now-gone volunteer.

“I thank you all fer your time ‘ere tonight an’ I ‘ope you’ve enjoyed yourself. Please,” he emphasized, removing his hat and holding it outstretched to the public, “just a little bit ‘a cutter to help a poor man out, if you’d be so kind.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Somewhere, in the middle of nowhere, a man in a suit and tie woke up, so very late to his appointment, and realised a fiver was missing from his wallet.