Visit from a Lesser God: With a kick, a punch and a knock
By A. R. Forte
()
About this ebook
Visit from a Lesser God is the much-anticipated sequel to Spirits of a Lesser God. Some of the bizarre, flamboyant, larger-than-life characters – Twiss, George and Patel – who featured in A. R. Forte’s first collection of short stories make a comeback. Dave Parker also makes a guest appearance.
Fans of the previous book will be able find out what happened to these characters, and see justice be done – to some of the dastardly people who were malicious in the first book. Each story takes a dramatic twist, so the reader will remain intrigued as to what happens next. The book is frantic with thought-provoking satires that forces the reader to think outside the accepted paradigms of society and behave in a manner that does not conform and fit in to the politically correct machine.
As with A. R. Forte’s first book, this collection of stories will appeal to fans of Jonathan Swift and George Orwell, fans of pop culture and those looking for something with a cutting edge.
A. R. Forte
An ex-Polaris submariner for the Royal Navy, A. R. Forte currently works in security, living and working in Spain. Spirits of a Lesser God was published in 2012 by Matador, and The Horse Keeper was published in 2013.
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Visit from a Lesser God - A. R. Forte
Copyright © 2018 A. R. Forte
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
Matador
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Email: books@troubador.co.uk
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ISBN 978 1789012 163
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
Push open the gate, jump over the grate
The grind of the rust, mingles with the dust
The Port Cullis is up, you ponder at your luck
The pathway glows dark, through willow and bark
The air smells dank, with flusty and kank
The mansion looks shut, and boarded all up
But the door is ajar, as you look from afar
Hop down the path, suppressing your wrath
Knock on the door, and wonder what for
But no answer is nigh, you are wondering why?
Now enter the room, of musty and gloom
A crash and a boom, heralds your doom
Sit down on a chair, and look to the stairs
Why have you come, what do you want?
You forget who you are, but know where you’re from
A Spirit came calling, early one morning
It lurks in the loft, much to your shock
It is now on the stairs, stepping daintily down
You are rudely awake, and shudder and shake
Beg, steal and borrow, and drown all your sorrows
It has come for your soul, fulfilling its role
It whispers and sniggers, burbles and giggles
You scream and you pray, don’t take me away
The clock strikes nine, now you are mine
And with a kick, a punch and a knock
Brings a Visit From A Lesser God…
A. R. Forte
CONTENTS
Harry Bounces Back
Edgar
Enoch And Apollyon
North Clark Street
The Return Of Mick O’ Mara
Frantic Antic
Here Comes The Judge
Harry Bounces Back
Edgar
Enoch and Apollyon
North Clark Street
The Return of Mick O’ Mara
Frantic Antic
Here Comes the Judge
HARRY BOUNCES BACK
Oh! there you are Harry, pushing open the door of a derelict building. I can see you’ve slept rough again last night. You’ve lost one shoe and a sock, and by the way you stink to high heaven. And there is a gaping hole in the seat of your trousers and pants. I shouldn’t laugh, but you are tragically comic, almost burlesque in your appearance now.
What a terrible crash back down to earth for one of the top finance bankers in the World. It’s a long way to the top of the building, twenty two stories. Twenty two stories should be more than enough to do the job of jumping off to kill yourself.
Just in case you are interested the building was a massive finance centre before the war, which helped to finance the war that cost millions of people their lives. Do you remember that war Harry? Oh that war. The same war that the international banking system, which you were part of and presided over and had financed through ghost companies and holdings, who’s names of the elite who had a stake in them were kept very secret. You never thought that they would catch up with you Harry, did you? Well it has taken two years and the investigation has finally bagged a name in the top echelons of banking. Your name Harry!
Firstly they went for the corrupt, bought and paid for criminal politicians. Then the vast weapon companies like Lanz-Tec and Speer-electronics. You weren’t really bothered when a few low rent politicians and chief executives got whopping prison sentences. Because you thought they could never pin anything on you. But they went for the jugular, like an attack dog. It was a tough and painstaking task, but they followed the money. With dogged determination they broke down the smoke and mirrors and misleading corridors of corruption and began to climb the lower blocks of the pyramid. You only realised that you were in trouble when they netted Craddock, Corbett and Lovell all in one probe. To get themselves lighter sentences they just didn’t sing like canaries, they bloody well blurted out secrets that would have taken years to dig up. Oh Harry boy, your name was repeated parrot fashion so many times that they had to open a completely separate file on you. They all got twenty years in the five-bar-hotel anyway, so God knows what you’re gonna get. But they won’t get you Harry, because your fat, disgusting body will be splattered all over the pavement, cheating them out of their biggest and most revolting prize.
As you climb slowly up the stairs, a thousand thoughts reverberate relentlessly through your brain. Remember old man Golding. He taught you every thing you know about digital forged money, virtual money, with no backing and only underwritten by fresh air, instead of gold, or commodities. His slogan was ‘Keep the people, the useless eaters in a debt based economy and force them to pay us real money.’
He had big ambitions for you Harry. You were ambitious, aggressive and above all cunning, cruel and merciless. He even introduced you to other people in the industry, who had worked their way to the top. And you learnt a lot of tricks and tactics from them to boot. The problem for you was that old Golding would not retire, because his spirit was completely consumed by greed and power. So after brooding in anger and frustration for three years, you decided to have him bumped off. It all nearly went horribly wrong, when your hired assassin was caught carrying out the deed by Mr Golding’s housekeeper. So he murdered her in cold blood as well. Then he had the audacity to charge you double, which you had to pay out of fear of exposure.
Now you were right at the top of the vile parasite called the international banking system, and you have underlings like Craddock, Corbett and Lovell, who do anything to gain favour with you. In your game people can be bought and sold, beaten and destroyed like just another consumer product. All that matters is profit. Profit should be illegally financing illegal wars through the criminal political system. Or by any means at all. Because all that counts is profit and power. They have even discovered the massive tax dodges that you have managed to cover and hide.
Everything was going so smoothly for you Harry, but then the unexpected happened. The enemy who you had craftily financed began to win the war dramatically. Even the obsolete QB 101 tanks began to wreak havoc in our own infantry and artillery. The planned ten to twelve year war, which was expected to reap gargantuan heaps of profit for the weapons industry, hence the banks that had lent them the money at whopping rates of interest, looked as though it was going to be won by the enemy, within eighteen months. So the war department in league with the corrupt, criminal politicians frantically threw together The Anti Tank Corp. What a laugh you had, when you went down to their depot to see them when they were first commissioned and paraded as a fighting unit. Remember those boys, standing there dressed in their bottle green boiler-suits and knee length jack-boots. They all looked like bewildered children, wondering where on earth they were. When the infantry and artillery boys roared with laughter, jeered and derided them as a bunch of Irish square dancers, you laughed the loudest. Standing there, wearing your Party badge and flanked by a bunch of disgusting Swan-Vestas. But cold fear replaced laughter when the Battalions dog handlers marched past with the regimental Irish wolf hounds. When they saw you their hair began to bristle and they all snarled at you, with foam spluttering from their mouths. That’s because they knew who and what you are Harry. The whole house of cards had to fall down in the end Harry. All of the counterfeit, forged money, fractional reserve virtual money, or leveraging as its known in the industry, just could not sustain the false debt.
The banking cartels thought that everybody higher up in the pyramid could not be touched by any law, because they made the laws and issued them to the bought and paid for politicians. Yes indeed, rob, tax, rob, tax the public and call it austerity measures, rather than theft. Theft may not sound quite so acceptable to the public. They just might wake up and realize what had happened to them. Then force debt, upon debt upon debt onto the public until they haven’t got room to breath, or fart. Steal savings and plunder savings trusts and call it protection trusts, rather than fraud. The plunder, theft, fraud and embezzlement had become so complete, so rapacious that there was no real money left. People were losing their houses, their savings, their jobs, everything. They couldn’t even feed their families. The cap-stone of the pyramid has now decoupled Harry and the eye is not shedding a tear, or even winking at you, to thank you for your services. Because the elite who live up there know that you are just another Goyam, or useless eater. They select, groom and use vermin like you Harry, just like they do with the criminal politicians. That’s because they understand people like you Harry. They fully understand false ego, vanity and greed, that completely blocks out the light of critical thinking and empathy for others. They know very well all of the dark and