Red over the Hedge
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The McCarthy’s Is your b[/center]athroom breeding Bolsheviks? Do you have the overwhelming urge to wake up two hours before work to “seize the means of production”?
Mr James McCarthy certainly did.
At dawn, James McCarthy would rise from his slumber and trudge to the kitchen, popping in eight slices of bread into the toaster for his family of four. Two slices each. How plentiful! How decadent! How utterly excessive.
I love this. Leon and Vladimir, both too young to to understand the socio-economic implications of bread for both breakfast and lunch nagged their father about their predicament.
“Dad!” they both moaned in unison.
“What?”
“How are we supposed to share one carrot between us for lunch and recess?” James paused for a moment to consider this.
“Rationing my dear boys, it’s a dying art!” He quickly pecked both his sons on the forehead before he hurried out the door to work.
The creation of atmosphere, tone, comedy....this part is excellent. The JohnsonsAnthony and Jacqueline Johnson were dipping in discussion at the kitchen table. Anthony was tapping the linoleum floor in haste, anxious for Jacqueline's reply. She would open her mouth in a succession of “ah’s” and “ums”, simultaneously shifting her weight between each elbow.
“Are you sure honey?” she said, directing her gaze straight towards him.
“It’s beyond doubt. Linden and Dwight said his kids came to school with a carrot between them. It’s chronic I tell you, chronic.” Anthony rubbed his palm against his face,
“Maybe we should give it time, it’s quite a serious accusation to make, don’t you think sweetheart?”
“I’m telling you Jackie, that family is sick” He stood up from the table defiantly.
“I will protect our children.”
The McCarthy’s“Falin’s Panel Beater’s” was a shed on the corner of Liberty Lane; James McCarthy’s place of employment. There was an irrevocable sense of fellowship amongst the workers who slaved away in the liminal space amongst suburban Washington that seemed to glorify the beauty of work. Every aspect of this place reminded James of how he was just a pawn in another man’s game. Everything from the grimy air that seemed to slick over his skin whenever he walked into the premise to the mould spores that took refuge in the back room fridge. The foreman promised to have it check out but hasn’t gotten around to it. Typical. Regardless of the hardships, James relished in the comfort of his comrades when push came to shove. Every so often, he would help out one of his fellow workers finish up their quota of cars for the day.
“So how’s the family?” Billy was one of James's closest colleagues.
“Not too bad my friend, and yours?” The both of them we’re wiping down either side of a salvaged camaro.
“Yeah they're doing okay.” He stood up briefly and wiped the remainder of the polish from off his hands with the tattered grease cloth.
“We’re thinking of having a barbeque after the boy’s soccer game. We better see your face there after all you did for the boys this season!” James chuckled as Billy came around and patted his shoulder in gratitude. It was this feeling of camaraderie that he relished in whenever he came to the shed. It was a dog eat dog world that he lived in but whenever he came to his place of labour, he knew that he was looked after. At the end of his shift, he grabbed his rucksack from the back room and left his shift feeling accomplished.
You still paint a wonderful picture here, but I think of the first three paragraphs this is the one that doesn't grab me as much. I'm still following the story so it's fine, I can appreciate this paragraph. But I think it's worth me telling you where my interest rises and falls because that's important for you to know as a writer. The Johnson’sThe tinge of dusk had washed over the fringes of Lincoln Street.
What an incredible description - so simple yet so stark. Anthony was busy finishing up the last of the plates
which the family had eaten brunch on sounds a bit awkward - maybe: "up the last of the plates the family used for brunch" and noticed by chance the repulsiveness of the overgrown hedges. Peering outside the window he looked over at either side of his neighbor's yards and saw the clean and clipped shrubs which lined the outside of their humble abodes.. Walking out into the yard, he immediately began to rectify the issue that was the lush vegetation that swallowed his front yard. He began to open the trimmers when the sound of a beaten up Chevy truck filled the vicinity of the neighbourhood. It was James McCarthy. Hurrying out of his truck, he run up the cobblestone steps to his home before double taking. His eyes lasered the hedges that ran across the parameter of his home. Walking promptly to the tray of his chevy, he took out what appeared to be a curved contraption. He swung it behind his back and looked both ways, briefly making eye contact with James before entering his garden bed.
“Shit!” Anthony muttered underneath his breath, grappling the branches of his sugar maple tree and take
he took? refuge in it’s lowest canopy
I could be wrong - but is canopy not the highest level of the trees? The one with mostly leaves and not much branches?. He squinted his eyes to focus on his neighbour. McCarthy swung the contraption side to side, the greenery falling like butter being cut by a hot knife. It was then he saw it. What an idiot he thought to himself. How could he have missed it? The gleam of the sickle was undeniable. This was the final straw. It was beyond questionable now. Anthony marched over into the kitchen and grabbed his telephone, hammering the buttons to call the police. Jacqueline was preparing the pot-roast for later this evening.
“What are you doing honey?” She look at him in confusion
“I’m taking care of that situation” He pointed abruptly to across the road and tucked his phone between his head and shoulders.
maybe just one shoulder?“But how-”
“Jacquline” He stared directly into her face. She knew that there was no convincing him otherwise.
“Better yet..” He finished his sentence quickly and put down the receiver.
“We go over
We are going over?* to the house right now, and if we see anything even more compromising than what we have already seen, we’re alerting the authorities”
He grabbed Jacqueline's hand and pulled her out of the house. They walked across the road and paced across garden bed of the McCarthy residence. They stood briefly at the door and then looked at each other for a second. He raised his hand and went to knock when the door swung open.
“Thank you so much for your contributions, Mr McCarthy. You know, In this day and age, it’s so nice to see young men like yourself thinking about the good of society instead of this horrid “everyman for himself” mentality. The people of the Red Cross pass on their best wishes to you and your fa--.” James looked over at both Anthony and Jacqueline. Both of their mouths hung open in shock and disbelief. They could not have known the horrifying truth.
“Anthony, Jacquie, what brings you over at this time of day” He chuckled at them both and the Red Cross officer.
“Would you like to make a donation today? The officer raised the burlap sack that jingled with loose change.
“There will be none of that today Sir.” Anthony turned and put his arm around Jacquline, looking back at James”
<<Accidental quotation mark?
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re playing at” James furrowed his brow confusion and watched as the Johnsons walked away. Immediately once inside their home, he knew what to do. With one hand on the bench, he tapped impatiently waiting for the response on the other side of the receiver.
“Hello, welcome to Suspicious Activities Agency. To report crime press 1. To report a missing person 2. To report Communist activity press 3.”