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It Can't Be True.
It Can’t Be True.
Walking down the high street on my way to a certain shop, suddenly a pressure in the small of my back. A voice spoke,”I have a pistol in your back, and I am a very trigger happy man and will shoot as soon as you make a false move. No John Evans it is time for my revenge, I have waited a long time fifteen years of hard labour because you could not keep your big mouth shut. Speaking I managed to get out, but my name is not John Evans. I am Bernard Shaw Born here In Dartford, There must be many people on the street that know me and will tell you that I was born and bred here in Dartford.
His voice again with the pressure of his weapon still in the small of my back, “I do not want to kill you Evans but you deserve a bullet in the small of your back after all it is you that I can thank for my fifteen years hard labour. Working in that quarry, swinging that Pick Axe and that heavy Hammer, Oh! no I don’t want to kill you. You will spend the rest of your life in one hospital or the other and I will get my satisfaction.
Why in Hell did you only grass on me what about the others were they not guilty too? So why just me. Again I managed to get out a few words. I tell you my name is Bernard Shaw, I was born and raised here in this town of Dartford. I went to school here. I married my wife here in the registry office. Believe me I know of no one with the name of John Evans, the name if you ask me sounds Welsh are you sure that you are in the right country? After all Wales has many men with the name of Evans try your luck in Wales not here in Dartford. We pride ourselves that we are all honest Law abiding citizens. Suddenly the pressure disappeared from my the small of my back. Waiting few seconds I turned my head and thank goodness there was no one behind me. I asked myself how did he disappear so quickly. Did he vanish? Was he perhaps a Ghost? If I remember rightly Hard Labour was not part of a prison sentence any more.
I carried on to the shop I was originally going to. On a large placard I saw a picture. The picture showed a man in the same predicament as I was in a small man with a pistol in his hand. The pistol was pushed into the man into the small of his back. I now asked myself do the actors get their acting experience by going around in public and pushing pistols in people’s backs. Was this man an actor or was this the real thing taken from a scene in some ones life?
If this should happen to you please stay calm every one can make a mistake let us just say this man actor or ex prisoner chose me and not some perhaps hysterical person that would have caused a hell of a scene. I went to the theatre but it was not the actor playing the part on the stage This stage actor had a squeaky kind of voice whereas my character had a deep voice and the pressure of the gun in my back is something that I will not forget in a long time. You the readers of this my scribble I hope for all of your sakes that you too do not meet this man looking for one John Evans. If you yourself have the same name please do not get the idea of changing your name after all John Evans sounds a good name to my ears. I was just sorry that I had been mistaken for him. Have a good night no bad dreams now from Bern your scribbler.
