Mike
scrutinized his features more closely. Just above his left eye was a little
scar. He shifted his head slightly in order to highlight its jagged edges a better. He liked to think of that scar as being his first battle wound.
It had been the result of a school yard fight. After all these years he could still
remember the fight as if it was yesterday. He had been eight years old at the
time. It had been about wooden block connecting rods and involved Terry Watson.
Mike remembered that there had been some mitigating circumstances; Terry was
the teacher’s pet and his mother was beautiful! The fight had happened like
this; Mike had been playing with some blocks with his class mates when he
realized that the connecting robs used to hold the blocks together would serve
the same purpose for his blocks at home too. When the other children weren’t
looking, Mike slipped various into his pocket. Eventually the shortage of rods
caused block construction to grind to a halt. When this happened everyone began
to search for the missing items including Mike. Things began to heat up when
Paul McDonald added fuel to the fire.
“I counted
the rods before we started. There were 34. If you take into account the ones we
have used and the ones we have left over, ten are missing. Someone here has stolen them,” Paul declared!
Mike knew
that it would only be a matter of time before someone accused him and so he
transferred three of the rods into Terry Watson’s pocket whole he was
distracted.
“I think
Terry has stolen them,” Mike shouted in an accusing voce!
“No I
haven’t,” cried Terry.
Mike
continued to accuse him and soon the other children began to point their finger
at him as well.
“Empty you
pockets, Terry,” someone demanded.
Under protest,
Terry obeyed. To this day Mike can still remember the look of shocked disbelief
and dismay when Terry turned out his pockets to reveal three of the missing
rods.
“I did not
steal them,” Terry sobbed!
“Liar, liar,
liar,” chanted Mike!
Soon the
other children were joining in the chorus which made poor Terry Watson lose
control. He homed in on Mike and a shoving match ensued. Mike hadn’t expected
this and was caught completely off guard. Terry gave him a big shove causing
him to lose his balance. His head struck the window shattering it, a
sliver of glass slicing Mike’s face just above the eye. As luck would have it
the teacher arrived at that precise moment and immediately jumped
to the wrong conclusion. She accompanied Mike to the infirmary where he was
subsequently taken to the doctor to have his face stitched, The teacher-aid
dragged Terry protesting his innocence to the principal’s office. The principal
promptly suspended Terry for ten days.
At school the
next day, Mike was treated as a hero! When Terry Watson returned to school on
the other hand, he discovered he was no longer the teacher’s pet, nor did
anyone want to be his friend anymore. The children began to call him “Sticky
Fingers.” From that time on if anything went missing, Terry “Sticky Fingers”
Watson was always accused. At the end of the term Terry’s parents transferred
him, to another school where unfortunately his reputation preceded him. The
last thing Mike had heard related to Terry was that he had entered into a deep
depression had committed suicide. Not that this worried Mike in the least.
The “rod
incident” taught Mike some valuable lessons, not the least of which being, how
easily people can be manipulated by someone like him without scruples. He also learnt
some valuable economic lessons. For example: “If people are silly enough to
leave things unprotected within his reach, then they deserve to lose them, and
who controls the supply of something, has power!”
Over the
years Mike had used these valuable lessons to his advantage. This was why he
was a rich. He was an expert in manipulating the supply and demand of
things using insider information. The scam that started it all had occurred
almost by accident. He had befriended a class collegue at university who he
decided may have been of some use to him in the future. He never imagined how
soon that was going to be. His pseudo-friend worked part time in the Tax
Department and let slip one day that he had been photocopying some draft
documents related to a 60% tax increase on new caravans. A few days later
Mike invited his friend to the pub with the sole purpose of getting him drunk in order to get more details about the tax increase. By the time
the new tax was officially announced eight months later, Mike had bought every
new caravan in the country he could get his hands on. Van retailers were delighted to sell their stocks to Mike and weren’t in the least put
out by his request to hold the caravans in their yards for a couple of months
until he could arrange to have them picked up. When
the new tax was announced on caravans manufactured after that date,
there was a rush to buy existing stocks. Within hours Mike
had sold all his caravans back to their orginal owners. The caravan
retailers were so desperate to buy them back, Mike was able to charge abusive
prices.
Mike returned
his thoughts to his reflection in the mirror.
He focused on
his full crop of gray hair. It gave him a refined elder statesman look. For
some reason it attracted young beautiful women. He remembered when his first
gray hair had appeared, his then wife had yanked it out. She received a swift
slap across her face for her efforts. He needed have worried however as the
hair had rapidly grown back and seemed to have called others. Within a few
short months he was totally gray. His wife had tried to convince him to dye his
black hair, but he resisted the idea. In fact, rather than changing his hair
color he had found it easier simply to change his wife!
Mike distanced
himself from the mirror a little in order to get a fuller view of his face.
“I really am
extremely handsome,” he thought. “No wonder girls flock to me like bees to honey!”
“Look into
your eyes,” a voice over Mikes shoulder instructed.
“Look into
your eyes …. not at them,” the voice over his shoulder snarled!
Mike hesitated
and then followed the command.
If eyes are
the windows into ones soul, then this was precisely the reason Mike never
looked directly into his own eyes. He was afraid of what he might see! But as
on this occasion he had been ordered to do so, he began to gaze into the eyes
reflected in the mirror.
His reflected
eyes seemed to draw him deep into a tunnel. First the tunnel was blue and
comforting, but as he was pulled ever deeper the tunnel turned gray and then
black. He heard death curdling screams, the grinding of teeth and some of his
father’s last words.
“Son,” he had
said. “Take care in what you do. One day you will be held responsible for your
actions.”
From
somewhere across the years Mike’s response echoed back;
“You pathetic
old fool! Look at you! You spent 40 years working in the same dead end job;
living just above the poverty line while being exploited by your employer. He
got rich while you lived in misery. Where did your good works and your church
going ever get you?”
With a start
Mike jolted back to reality. He was covered in sweat! It took him sometime for
him to realize he had been day dreaming and a little longer for his racing
heart to return to its normal rhythm.
Mike found
himself admiring himself in the mirrors again.
“God how handsome
and intelligent I am,” he proclaimed out loud to no one in particular!
Mike changed
the angle of the mirror a little in order to catch a glimpse of all the money
he had spread out on his bed which he had just robbed from his latest victim. To his horror instead of seeing a reflection of money, he saw another image!
The Devil
took back his mirror and said to Mike;
“Let’s go!”
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