My short story piece ‘Hummus’ was published with Roi Faineant press this weekend. You can find this piece alongside some other wonderful writers here!

https://www.roifaineantpress.com/petites

Hummus

This was an unexpected knock. It arrived just after the big sigh everyone makes when they shut the car door and settle into the driver seat. The fat knuckles rested on the glass. Through the condensation a large face was visible. ‘You forgot your hummus’ said the pink blob. This was the guy – the one who shot me in the leg. At this point I still did not know if it was intentional, but he did shoot me nevertheless. Having said that he did just try to give me my hummus back. Surely a man who gives you hummus doesn’t want you dead?

I wound the window down a crack, not being able to speak properly. I think a smallish mouse had offered a translation from my throat but this was barely audible. The houmous man beckoned to lower the window further. I glanced around, there were at least twenty people wandering around the entrance to the supermarket. Surely this wasn’t it. Gunned down at a budget supermarket. I had also inadvertently parked in a mother and baby bay. How embarrassing. I would never live this down.

I wound the window half-way down. That was as much as I dared. “Hello, you forgot your hummus”’ Pink blob face said, sliding the dip through the narrow slot. I recognised him now. It was the neighbour, or at least the person who was in the house opposite. The one I think may well have shot me in the leg.

“Thanks” I eventually managed

“Such a shame what happened the other day wasn’t it Kenneth”

“What happened” I said as if I didn’t know. 

“You know, what they did to that beautiful bush outside your house, ruined”

“Rhododendron”

“Scuse me?”

“It was a Rhododendron”. I don’t know why I felt this was important. This could be my last words. It would add to the mystery of my impending death, bleeding out on the tarmac whispering “It was a rhododendron” The gardener had severely misunderstood my instructions that morning. But that was another story.

“Right, well, dead is dead I guess Kenneth”

“Yes”

“You’re a good man Kenneth, nice to have neighbours you can rely on don’t you think?”

“Yes, I mean, are we neighbours?”

“We’ve been neighbours for a while Kenneth, I moved in months ago, you remember don’t you? Don’t you remember Kenneth? He paused briefly and scanned the car park. Anyway, I see you” he pointed at me menacingly through the gap.

“What?”

“I said, I’ll see you, later he gripped the top of the door and leaned in. Goodbye Kenneth”

As he sloped away, I sat back reeling. His approach was so casual. I know what he did, I knew a warning when I heard one. But he knew that too. There was nothing else for it, I had to tell the police.

I had never been in a police station before. I was nervous but the twinge in my leg reminded me of my mission, this could be my last chance to do anything about it.

I approached the desk where a bored looking Sergeant asked if he could help me. Just as I took my breath to answer I heard the door swing again behind me.

“Kenneth” the voice behind me boomed. I froze on the spot. As I turned slowly my throat seemed to close up. I had nothing left in my throat.

There he was, dressed in his work clothes, with his warrant card clearly visible. 

“Are you going to help this gentleman sir?” said Sergeant Bored.

“Yes, I will deal with this” he uttered finally. We’re neighbours, aren’t we Kenneth”