EDENVILLE

Commerce

By @silenttomorrows

Wilfred Bodger made his way home, humming quietly to himself.  By his gate was Ancient Boo, a frequent visitor who sometimes followed him to his rat hunting grounds.  Especially when there was an epidemic of vermin. 

Wilfred turned the key in the lock of the olde oak door, under the rose covered porch of his old house.  He took pride in stepping into tradition and history.  His family had been rat catchers in the town for six generations; in fact the original Bodger had built the house and helped with the local sewer network too.

Wilfred was well known and respected amongst the towns folk.  Part of his takings came from the public coffers.  The good people of Edensville deserved a pest free environment.  Mind you that chap on the bike was a bit of a pest.  He might ring Breem later to see if the bumbling policeman had got the evidence the right way around. 

Ancient Boo followed him inside and he carefully locked the door behind them.

Wilfred went into his kitchen and pulled open the fridge door. He took a dead rat from the bottom compartment and gave it to the cat.

'Now don't you go talking pussycat, there's plenty in it for me and plenty for you.'

Wilfred boiled a kettle.  As Wilfred made a cup of tea, the grand father clock in the hall donged the hour.  Wilf entered his sitting room and sat in his favourite arm chair.  Surrounded by oil paintings of past Bodgers on the walls, he scanned his newspaper. 

He was not too worried about the lost rat powder; he'd bought all of it so that there was a shortage in the village.  He had an idea that soon there might be an increase in the rat population and he didn't want the stick your nose in amateurs taking his business with their DIY methods.  Besides, one idiot had learnt that rats swim, laced his pond with rat powder and killed all his carp.  Sometime before he had convinced Breem that people needed to buy a licence if they were going to set sprung traps.  Constable Breem had been very happy to add this little sideline to fishing, hunting and taxidermy licenses. 

Ancient Boo chomped on the rat, purring it's pleasure. 

When Wilf has finished his tea, he got up and went into his basement, put the light on and surveyed the scene.  The walls were lined with caged black rats. His breeding stock. Fattened up and ready to roll. 

Wilfred went to the sewer pipe that his descendent had so thoughtfully constructed underneath their family home.  He opened a trap door in the pipe and in keeping with tradition, tipped forty or fifty rats into the sewer drain that ran beneath the village. 

There, that would do nicely.  Phone calls would soon start coming in about the increase in rats and finances would take a little up turn.

Wilfred left the basement, ascended the stairs, turning the single lit bulb off behind him. He saw the cat near the front door, waiting to leave.

'Now cat,  now oh Ancient Boo, it's time you worked for your dinner.'  Wilf once again went into the kitchen and retrieved a dead rat from fridge. 'Go slyly so nobody sees, and deposit this rat in the kitchen of the Eden Grand hotel.  They pay big money to clear up infestations there.  Old Jethro Woodnick, the owner or that very exclusive set up, will do his nut when he sees a dead rat in his kitchen.' Wilfred rubbed his hands with glee.  'And his wife will make his life a misery, she will want me to sort it out chop chop.'

He opened the door and the cat departed, rat in mouth. 

The days business was almost concluded.  Wilfred went upstairs and phoned Edward  Fudge. 

Edward was sniffing his fresh fish stock and changing the sell by dates on the labels by a couple of days.  He moved to the counter and with fishy fingers picked up the phone, 'Edenville Village Store'

'Edward, it's Wilf'

'Wilfred my dear friend, you had a bit of a scare earlier. Are you alright, can I sell you some plasters?  New rat poison should be arriving in about three weeks time.'

'No, no, just wondered if you are ready for some more of my special meat pies yet?'

'Yes please Wilfred, last one sold two days ago, same price?

'Yes, Edward, same price.  I'll make up six tonight, and bring them over in the morning.'

'See you then', Edward said amiably and put the phone back on it's rocker.  Then plumping up the last two donuts of the day.

Wilfred spotted a disheveled Porter Hobbs, wheeling a buckled bicycle, which he rest against Bessie Harfords wall.  'That'll need a spell in the bicycle repair shop' he said to himself.  'I wonder what he's up to at Bessie's place?  If someone spots him coming out of there looking like he does going in, then Bessie's reputation is going to climb up a peg or two.  I'd  love to be a fly on the wall.' Wilf gave a chuckle and went off into his kitchen to make some pies.