My name is Sir Montgomery Swimmer. A pleasure to make your acquaintance… pardon?
Oh yes. You probably have heard of me…quite right to! I’m only the richest chap this side of California. I have a villa here! A superb, truly magnificent kingdom of a place to call my own.
You see, I’m rather… well off, young chap. If you could dream of having the skills I possess, maybe one day you could even consider reaching my splendid heights of success.
Yes, you! Oho, that’s put a smile on your face!
What? You want to know my story? Hmm, you are pushy, aren’t you?
Well I mustn’t keep you! I’m sure you have hundreds more cases to get through in your…well, thrilling line of work…
Well, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I was in my home the night it happened.
It was a crisp, cold November evening, the wind unrelenting, enough to kill a man! But I was inside my lovely manor, cozied up in a scorching bath with my camomile candles and only the softest, most luxurious towels, with not a care in the world.
I was just thinking of how I had amassed $50,000 that day in one single transaction. $50,000! Almost enough to upgrade my car, or get a fourth pool!
But of course the world must be so unfair to poor little me when I hear a tremendous commotion downstairs; the shattering of what seems to be tonnes of glass raining down!
As I’m sure you can imagine I skyrocketed out of my skin, causing my golden rubber duck to go a-tumbling all over everywhere.
‘I must go check what has happened!’ I announced in the following silence, my bravery knows no bounds, you see.
Grabbing my towel, I edged my way down my stairway, quiet as a mouse for the most part, till I saw who it was who had the dastardly nerve to encroach upon my glorious estate.
It was the Beach Balls.
They were a notorious gang in California who spent all their time drinking and rioting; when they weren’t stabbing people who got in their way or running over admittedly annoying elderly people with their motorbikes, something I am greatly thankful for but of course am in no way authorised to express.
I, of course, was immensely surprised.
Beach Balls here? Why?
Then I realised; the money. More than just this transaction earlier had come from the Beach Balls, and it wasn’t exactly a completely legal manner of exchange either. They must have put all their dim-witted skulls together and worked out what was happening.
Still remaining most calm and cool, I hurriedly raced my way back into my bedroom. I could hear the termites wriggling around in one of my four dining rooms, searching for money no doubt.
‘That piece of shit’ll pay for this’ I heard one utter in a gruff voice.
I was not, let me remind you, the least bit scared. But for now, I considered, I better get out of here, I can’t risk having my god-like face ruined by those dimwits.
I graced the balcony with my presence, but in my rush I went a bit too fast, for my golden rubber duck’s majestic voyage out of the bath had led him into my current path.
Of course, being so outrageously rich and wealthy, my balcony was also made out of solid gold, so you can see my predicament in being unable to see this duck-shaped death trap below me. It only took one trip and an ominous squeak of that cursed toy for me to get sent flying over my balcony.
It was the fall that killed me. Snapped my neck, in fact.
But I’d like to think I fell ever so gracefully, like a ballerina pirouetting her way to world fame.
So that’s my story, reaper.
Why are you laughing? Are you finding this whole event humorous?
Why, the nerve! I’ve a good mind to report you to your senior-in command if you do not stop that revolting behaviour at once!
So this is definitely a weird one.
This story was created with the writing prompt of ‘Making a Story from a Newspaper Headline’. The headline here chosen was ‘Swimmer trapped by Beach Balls’, (hence the incredibly non-intimidating gang name) and, as you can see, it got more and more unorthodox as it went along!
The narrator, with all his stupidity, was a huge influence for when it came round to creating Bimblespottin, so really this is the original Brannigan Bimblespottin! Creepy.
Copyright © 2016 Rebecca Sherratt