The neighbourhood has seen better days, but Mrs. Pauley has lived there since before anyone can remember. She raised a family of six boys, who’ve all grown up and moved away. Since Mr. Pauley died three months ago, she’d had no income. She’s fallen behind in the rent. The landlord, accompanied by the police, have come to evict Mrs. Pauley from the house she’s lived in for forty years.
Write this story in first person, told by the twelve-year-old sitting on the stoop across the street.
Wish Dad’d hurry up, why’d he have to go live with her, Mum’s a thousand times prettier and can cook a lot better. If he’s much longer I’ll be late for school again, and that damn Mr Stinky-breath’ll send me to the office, en they’ll ring mum who’ll get mad at dad and they’ll fight again, god I hate all this stuff.
Wonder why that cop car is driving so slow, gees looks like it’s stopping at Mrs Pauley’s place, wonder what she did, she’s so old, she couldn’t do bad stuff. Gosh I reckon that’s old Shanky, the rent bloke getting out of the car with the fuzz, dad always said he was a bloody crook, with luck they’ll slam him in clink for ever.
This is grouse, hope Dad doesn’t get here yet, cripes they’re banging real loud on Mrs Pauley’s door, they must know she’s deaf as a post … looks like she heard em the doors opening.
Shanky runs up the steps past the fuzz waving a paper in her face, yelling I told you, I told you I would do it, well the time has come Lady, you were warned, time and time again but took no notice, so out you go. With that, Mrs Pauley starts to cry and pleading … please no, where will I go, what will become of me? Please officer don’t let him do this. With tears streaming down her face she asks can I please ring my son he will know what to do? Old Shanky starts demanding they throw her out, but the copper is asking for her son’s name and phone number.
Oh bugger, here’s dad, he gives a toot and holds the door open for me, come on mate, shake a leg, you don’t want to be late and end up in the principal’s office do you?