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He’d just picked out the perfect pair of sunglasses to go with his outfit when the bedroom door slammed open.
“Michael!” said Vyvyan bounding over to him. The punk stared down at his wristwatch.
“It’s half past two!”
Mike checked it for him.
“Nice one Vvy!” he said and the punk beamed.
“I’ll be downstairs in a sec, let me just finish getting ready,” Mike said as he put his necktie on, looking in the mirror to adjust it. Vyvyan stared with interest.
“What’s that weird fabric thing you always wear Michael?”
Mike felt confused for a second, about to ask that didn’t Vyv have a school uniform growing up when he remembered. Of course not, Vyvyan never went to school.
“It’s called a necktie,” he explained. “Just makes you look a bit smart, smarter then you really are.”
Vyvyan scrunched his face up.
“How do you do it?”
Mike went to his drawer that had a necktie in every colour and pattern. He passed one to Vyvyan that was covered in skulls, who looked at it with interest.
“Put it around your neck,” he instructed. “Now have the two sides hanging like that and take it like that and put it over that way…no not like that…the other way…”
When Vyvyan was done, Mike reached over to tidy up the rather sloppy attempt.
“Very spiffy,” he said. “You can keep that one if you like.”
“Oh cheers!” said Vyvyan, tightening it extra hard around his throat. “You can use it to throttle a bastard!”
“Very creative!” Mike said and Vyvyan looked quite proud of himself.
“Now I’ve got a little task for you, Vyvyan,” he said. “Something to get us a bit more money.”
Vyvyan made an excited sound.
“Now it’s summer time, yeah, tourist season? Tourist is just a French word for sucker Vyv. I’m heading down to all the tourist traps around London today with signs.”
“What do they say?” asked Vyvyan, intrigued.
“Beware of pickpockets,” Mike said with a grin. “Now what a sucker does when they see that sign, is they pat around where they keep their wallet or purse to make sure it’s still there. And now y’know where they keep it, don’t you Vyvyan?”
The punk laughed with glee and nodded.
“We’re gonna make some good bread,” Mike told him. “Nice enough to sell in a bakery.”
Neil and Mike were sitting at the kitchen table, the hippy looking abashed as Mike tutted over a bunch of shopping receipts.
“Neil, knowing about money is important, if you don’t know about money people will take you for a ride and I don’t mean on a carousel,” he said. “Now imagine you’re either at the corner store that sells two bags of lentils for one or the shop that sells the same brand five per cent off. What’s the better deal? How do you save the most money?”
Neil scratched at his head with distress.
“It’s definitely not buying the brand that’s four pound fifty a lentil is it?” he admonished him.
“I’m sorry Mike, I can’t do all those equations in my head like you can,” he said.
“Then bring a calculator Neil!” Mike said. “Most people can’t do equations in their head, that’s why they invented the calculator didn’t they?”
“I left my calculator at college,” said Neil. “I hate going to college. Everyone’s heavy. They all make fun of me.”
Mike put the receipts down.
“Who’s the main one who picks on you then Neil?” Mike said. Neil shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“That Sandy Day one,” he murmured under his breath. Mike rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a few moments and then his eyes lit up.
“I’ve got a bit of dirt on her, y’know,” Mike said with a sly grin. “Next time she gives you grief, you just tell her ‘how’s Mr. Pender doing?’ I think she’ll decide to leave you alone after that.”
Neil gave a rare smile.
“Thanks man,” he said.
It was Neil’s turn in the bath and the other three flatmates were on the couch watching telly. Mike glanced over at Rick with an exasperated expression.
“You’ve been scratching your hair a lot Rick,” Mike observed and Rick put his hand down at once as if he’d been caught with it stuck in the biscuit tin.
“Come over and sit here,” Mike said tapping at the ground by his feet and Rick looked very reluctant as if he knew he was in trouble. Vyvyan snickered as Rick skulked over and sat at the floor.
“Let’s see what the damage is,” Mike said as he got his comb out from his front pocket.
“There is no damage!” Rick protested. Mike started running the comb through the grotty locks.
“Look you need to take care of your hair properly, we don’t want to end up with lice again,” he said. “Trust me it’s particularly bad when they migrate south.”
“That was Vyvyan who gave us all nits not me!” Rick protested. He flinched as Mike’s comb got caught on a snag.
“You’re gonna pull my hair out, bastard!”
“Well whose fault is that then? If you combed it, there wouldn’t be any knots would there?”
Rick sulked as Mike examined the teeth of the comb.
“Just dandruff,” he said. “It’s getting long though Rick, you might want to give it a trim.”
“Mummy cuts my hair,” Rick said and Vyvyan beside Mike made a retching sound.
“Mummy read you a bedtime story and tuck you in at night too?” he jeered.
“Shut up! At least my mum’s not a bartender!” Rick shouted back and then ducked the lager can Vyvyan chucked at him.
“Ha missed!” he said so Vyvyan just smacked him upside the head instead.
“Are you sure you want to keep the pigtails?” Mike asked him with a hint of distaste.
“Yes!” Rick protested. “It’s a big up yours to society that says women stay in the kitchen and boys be big butch hardmen, cause actually gender is a construct, girls can be masculine, boys can be feminine there’s nothing wrong with it…!”
“Well,” said Mike, cutting his rant short before he got too overexcited. “I went down to the store to chat up the checkout chick, accidentally pinched the wrong hair dye for Vyv. How ‘bout you do something a bit different with your hair Ricky, add a bit of colour like all the young kids on the telly are doing nowadays?”
Rick perked up.
“Oh yeah! That’s real anarchic!”
“Run upstairs and fetch me the dye then, it’s the one in green,” Mike said and Rick was already racing off like a kid on Christmas.
As he headed down the stairs from his room, he heard the three kids bickering with each other as usual.
“I don’t know why we went to all the trouble of getting him a father’s day gift!” Rick protested. “It’s not like he’s our Dad, is he?”
“Says you, nit face,” Vyvyan shot back.
“I do not have nits! How dare you insinuate such a thing!”
“Well it’s just a nice gesture, Rick isn’t it?” Neil said. Then all at once, they became aware of Mike’s presence, whipping around with surprise.
“Oh hello Mike, didn’t see you there!” said Rick, twirling his green stripe of hair around his finger. Vyvyan proudly presented him with a brand spanking new set of golf clubs.
“Happy father’s day Da…I mean Michael,” he said. Mike took a look at the clubs, impressed that they weren’t bent, rusted or blood-stained.
“How much did you spend on these?” he asked.
“Nothing! We nicked them,” Vyvyan said.
“Good job boys, good job,” he said. “I’m very proud of you.”
“Well Rick nearly got us busted,” Neil said. “He kept crying about getting raped in prison.”
Mike put the clubs down and looked over at Rick.
“Now that’s twice you’ve said that,” Mike said. “Let me give you a tip, if it’s worrying you so much.”
He reached into his mouth.
“Keep one of these under your tongue,” he said, pulling out a razor blade. “It’s just handy to have in general but especially for your specific worries Rick. If anyone tries to get you to sample their pork you’ll be able to turn it into mincemeat, won’t you?”
“Brilliant!” Vyvyan cried out with delight.
With that he put the blade back away. Rick looking rather queasy, squeezed his legs together and grabbed at himself as though making sure everything was still in place down there. Neil, very white in the face as though he were about to faint, said he needed to go have a lie down. Vyvyan ran off to the bathroom to dissemble his own razor blade as Mike went back to admiring his new golf clubs.
He reckoned the kids were alright most of the time.