Arthur Shoals was a ordinary man, nothing much to him really, he is a creature of habit, doing the same things every week. Monday was laundry day, he took his bag of washing to his local launderette, It was always one black bag of clothes. He didn't believe in having too much clothes, his father always told him all you need in life are two shirts and two pairs of trousers, being elaborate was nothing more than being flashy and having airs and graces you were not born with.
Tuesday was when he visited his local library, he loved the silence of the place where he could pore over books for hours, it was only when the mothers came in with their noisy brats that irritated him, and he made sure he made his feelings quite clear with his loud sighing and tutting.
Wednesday was when he visited the graveyard, he paid his respects to his parents and wife, put out fresh flowers, cleaned the grass around the headstones, he liked talking to them, they are buried side by side, so he can talk to them all together. This place bought him a sense of calm, a place where he could put his thoughts in neat little boxes in his mind and file them away for next time.
Thursday he did his weekly shop, a thing of dread but much needed, he hated the noise, the bustle the constant pushing and shoving in the High Street, but needs must and all that so every Thursday he fought his way through the sea of people and did his shopping.
Friday was the day he went to his working mens club, he spent most of his day there, catching up with the latest goings on in his area, and it also served the best beer this side of town.
Saturdays and Sundays was his own, he didn't go out but spent his day indoors down in the basement, where he entertained himself with his latest prey, a thing of beauty if you like, you see Arthur Shoals is a ordinary man, nothing much to look at really, a small bespectacled man who would not say boo to a goose, but on the weekends he became something else. The stuff nightmares are made of...
