Revenge of Joe Public

For all the bankers, hedge fund managers, stock market traders and others of your like,

this little tale is for you.

VENGEANCE OF JOE PUBLIC

The Truck Driver.

It wasn't Joseph's plan for his death to be discovered by his five year old son Michael, but in his confused state of mind he'd forgotten to lock the garage door before getting into his car to wait for the lethal dose of medicine he'd consumed to take effect, and as fate would have it the young boy found him, dead. And in Joe's hand the note he'd written for his wife, Susan.

She had to call the police, who began the examination to ensure his death was suicide, though this was a formality, there being no doubt he'd killed himself, while Susan tried to contain her grief as she attempted to comfort her son. Michael kept asking why daddy killed himself, and as Susan tried to think of how to explain it to a five year old child the tearful little boy said, "Didn't daddy love us enough to stay with us?" At that point she broke down. A policeman gently asked if she had any family who could help her cope, and after regaining her composure a little she nodded. "My parents live near, I'll call them." The policeman said if she gave him their address he'd go and collect them. Before he left he spoke to one of his fellow officers. "Yesterday I had a drug crazed, knife wielding maniac trying to kill me, and I'd rather face him again than this. Grief stricken families is something no amount of police training can prepare you for."

The other man nodded, "I've seen this situation before, you don't get used to it."

A little later Susan and Michael were at her parents, who did what they could to comfort them. Her mother made a drink of warm milk for Michael, and told him he was now the man of the house and must do all he can to help his mother. Susan's father told her they could stay as long as they wished, and they'd make the funeral arrangements and do all they could to help. "And Susan," he added, "we'll do what we can but you have to be strong, because Michael now depends entirely on you."

Susan took a sleeping pill before retiring to bed, but was still awake most of the night. She thought about the events that led to Joe's death, it was almost funny that it began with the crisis on Wall Street. Joe had been a truck driver, what could the world of big business have to do with him? The news on tv of the bankruptcy of Wall Street banks was something she and Joe had paid little attention to, even when the economics experts warned of a coming recession and many job losses they were no more than slightly worried, just getting on with life leaving them no time to ponder on possible implications for themselves. But as the recession bit it became apparent this was going to affect their lives, as the company Joe worked for found it's business shrinking, the work was no longer there, and Joe was laid off.

That had been six months ago. Six stressful months, as Joe tried, with increasing desperation, to get another job. It was one month since the bank had given them notice of foreclosure on their home, as they couldn't pay the mortgage. So they would lose the house, they had no income, they were already in debt, and had no idea what to do next. But Susan didn't understand why Joe had killed himself. He'd been depressed, so had she, but did he think he was helping her and Michael by ending his life? She could be angry with him, but no, she knew he'd blamed himself for their plight, ashamed he couldn't provide a home for his family, even though they all knew it was no fault of his, he couldn't live wit it. He'd said just that in his suicide note, apologising for not being able to care for her and Michael.

But Susan knew who was to blame, and that was the banks. Barclays Sachs, which gave them their mortgage three years ago, then went bust, like other banks had, because of it's executives and Wall Street traders gorging themselves on stratospheric bonuses from their crazy investments. Susn couldn't remember how much money the tv reports said the banks were getting from the government, just that it was a huge sum of taxpayers cash. Taxpayers, like she and Joe had been until recently, until the parasites of big finance had ruined the economy. She remembered to how the government had fired the executives of the failed bank, but gave these already disgustingly rich individuals a large pot of money as a going away present. And what had Barclays Sachs given her and Joe? Notice to quit! She couldn't forget the tv ads for the bank, from the time they got their mortgage, a smiling accout manager saying, "Barclays Sachs, helping people make their life better." And for a second impotent rage made her forget her grief. For fust a second, but then her bedroom door opened and there was Michael, tears streaming down his face.

"Mummy, why did daddy go away?"

The Banker.

John Dunne had never met Joe and Susan, in fact he'd never heard of them, but they had heard of him. He had been the chief executive of Barclays Sachs, a star of the world of finance. Before he'd reached the age of fifty he was at the top, boss of one of the worlds largest banks. He'd been courted by governments who were dazzled by his financial acumen, newspapers and tv stations praised his genius as his company made more money than anyone had dreamed of. And so did he, he didn't even knoe how much was in his numerous bank accounts, nor what his luxurious homes and many possessions were worth.

And then came the credit crunch, and Barclays Sachs was broke. John was still rich, but it was a terrible time for him. Papers and tv stations who'd once sang his praises now called him a greedy fool, blaming him and his colleagues for the recession. Newspapers published photo's of him relaxing on a beach at St Tropez, or in a Las Vegas casino, alongside pictures of the homeless sleeping in cardboard boxes, as if he was to blame for those losers fate! And the politicians? Once they'd fought for an oppurtunity to be photographed in his company, now they spoke of him as if he were the Anti-Christ!

Though when he met the political figures they assured him their apparent anger was for public consumption, and they hoped he appreciated that they did have to appear to be appalled by his behavour. John understood. And when the government bailed out Barclays Sachs they gave him and his fellow executives a generous pay-off. He couldn't remember how much he was given, after all, with his wealth he didnt need it, but there was a principle. He'd been CEO at one of the worlds largest banks, and when it became bankrupt he'd been honourable enough to accept that, as top man, he had some responsibility, and that he should leave the bank. The money he received from the government was recognition of his years of service to banking,and nothing more than he deserved. Unfortunately the press heard of it and made a front page story of what they called his 'reward for failure'. God, John thought, do they think I should be treated like an ordinary guy, like say, a truck driver?

The Meeting of the Truck Driver and the Banker.

Speaking of truck drivers, a month had passed since the death of Joe. For his part John had been keeping a low profle, relaxing at a house of his in Acapulco, Mexico. The building was isolated, atop a hill, where he could be sure of his privacy. And today he'd met an American woman called Julie, a lovely blonde half his age, who was awed by being in the company of a man as succesful as himself. They were enjoying a bottle of wine as they got to know each other better, John putting an arm round her shoulders, and she playfully smacking his hand. "Don't take liberties," Julie said with a smile that was clearly intended to encourage him to take more.

He smiled back. "Don't play hard to get," to which she replied "I am hard to get."

Julie then asked if she could have a shower. "I want to be, hmm, fresh and sweet for," she stroked his nose, "you know."

Indeed he did, and as Julie showered he waited impatiently, drinking another glass of wine, as he contemplated making love to this beautiful lady.

So occupied was he by his carnal anticipation he didn't hear the sounds outside, sounds like something heavy being dragged along the ground. He heard Julie singing in the bathroom, and smiled as he thought of her, her pouting lips, the way she moved her hips when she walked, and...

"What the hell?" John cried out as the patio window shattered, broken glass falling in pieces on the carpet. And what entered the room made him freeze in terror. It was a man, or at least it looked vaguely like one, but it's flesh was rotting, it's clothing decayed and covered in dried mud, and it moved by dragging it's feet, one at a time, across the floor. And it moved toward him.

Julie had heard the noise, and wrapping a towel around herself ran out of the shower room to see what was happening, then screamed at the sight of the ghastly apparition that now stood over the still seated John, and fainted. John tried to scream to but could make no sound, he just sat with his mouth open, like a fish out of water.

"I am Joe, I'm a truck driver" the decaying figure uttered, with a rasping voice, "and I've come to make a withdrawal." With that the horrible figure raised an axe high above the seated John, who was still to shocked to move, and brought the weapon down into his chest.

A little later Julie regained consciousness and ran from the house still clad in just the towel, jumped in her car and drove to the local police station. She was hysterical when she got there and it was some time before she could describe to the police what she'd seen.

On arriving at the house the police found John's body on the sofa, with a large hole in his chest where his heart had once been. Attached to the body was a piece of paper, on which was written these words,

"His account has been closed!"

The End

All characters in this story are fictional, and any similarity to the fate of real life bankers is entirely wishful thinking!