Countdown

To celebrate my blog's 3rd anniversary I'm publishing a very early story that I had published in a writing magazine way back in about 2006. This is an edited and slightly abridged version of that story. And to give it context you might want to watch the videos at the end. 

What does my blog want for its birthday? A share, a like, a recommendation or why not buy Extraordinary Rendition? 
Thank you to everyone who has supported me over the last 3 years. Every reader, every comment inspires me to keep going. 

For audio click here. 
Ozzie did what Ozzie does, he slept.

Jodie watched him with contempt, his unwashed hair and unshaven face growing more irritating by the minute. His bony chest rose and fell in regular rhythm, as saliva glistened in the corner of his mouth. The settee resembled a volcanic eruption with Ozzie at the crater spewing a lava of possessions across the room. In one direction his size eleven boots were giving off obnoxious smells, in another direction an unread NME was covered in small shreds of tobacco, a dismantled cigarette, and a torn taxi company card, in a third direction a rucksack; a mini volcano in itself spewing clothes and books from its crater.  Ozzie snored violently, then smacked his lips as he readjusted himself and continued his dream.

It had been three weeks now since Eric had bought his ‘best friend’ into the flat. Eric promised it was only for a week while Ozzie got sorted. Only for a week had turned into two weeks and now three weeks. Jodie, so house proud, had watched her flat deteriorate slowly. At first she’d tried to tidy up after him but it was pointless, she was battling against a force bigger than her.

Jodie turned the volume up on the TV to drown out Ozzie’s snoring. It was time for her daily dose of Countdown.

“And a final consonant please Carol.”

“That’s an M”

“Okay let’s start the clock.”

Jodie stared at the jumbled letters on the screen trying to make out a word as the clock counted down and the music built to its crescendo.

DRMUEIHDM, she wrote letters down, and then looked down at her pad.

Murder Him!

Was the TV sending her messages? No, it was just a coincidence. Josie put it out of her mind and looked at the next set of letters trying to make a new word.

GNDOOIJTO again Jodie played with the letters. She looked at her pad to see what she had written.

GO ON DO IT J. She looked again in a state of disbelief.

She was pleased the next round was the numbers. She could get these silly thoughts out of her head. As much as she wanted to get rid of Ozzie, murder wasn’t the answer. It wouldn’t be impossible. She visualised Ozzie in a pool of blood and smiled, but then dismissed the thoughts; he wasn’t worth ‘doing life’ for.

The commercial break over, a new letters game was starting. This time there was no need to rearrange the letters; the message was spelt out clearly for her.

OKSHOPIMJ

Shop him, turn him in, now that was an idea. He was dealing drugs after all. If her neighbours got wind of it, they could lose the flat.

Jodie stopped playing the game and went to look up the number for the local police station. 7538559. She wrote it down on her Countdown pad and went back to the quiz show. It was the final numbers round;

“One from the top Carol and five small.”

“Okay so the numbers are 9 5 5 8 3 and 75 and the target is 999.”

Jodie scribbled on her pad 75+3+8+(5*5) * 9 = 999. She punched the air, she loved it when she got the numbers right. Then she looked at her pad again. The numbers had a certain familiarity to them. They were the same as the cop shop’s telephone number, and they added up to 999. This was getting freaky. Jodie felt goose pimples on her arms. She’d been sent a message by the Countdown gods, she had to do it. She did it.

***

If Ozzie had been a pig, it was nothing compared to the mess the police made. Jodie felt terrible, she hadn’t thought through her actions, Of course, the police would search the whole flat and all three of them would have to be questioned. The police were willing to believe she was just an innocent flatmate of the druggies. But when she discovered they were charging Ozzie with possession with intent to sell, and Eric with possession, she had almost died. She had grassed up her own bloke. How could she ever look Eric in the face again? God, he could go to prison. She even felt sorry for poor old Ozzie; he had looked so hopeless as the coppers dragged him away.

Two hours later as she was trying to sort the flat out she heard a key in the lock. She ran to the door to see Eric standing looking pale. She hugged him.

“How come you are out?”

“They decided just to caution me. God, I never want to go through that again.”

“Sit down I’ll make you a cuppa.”

“Cheers love.”

Jodie busied herself in the kitchen while Eric sat down, kicked off his boots and reached for the remote control. He flicked through the channels before settling on Countdown.

“and another consonant please Carol.”

“That’s a D”

“Off we go”

Jodie came in with the mugs of steaming tea. Eric was looking at her anger in his eyes. Josie looked at the TV screen. The music was reaching its crescendo. She looked at the jumbled letters.

JOGRASSED

The two cup went tumbling to the floor.

The Countdown Gods had turned against her.

Some examples of Countdown to give the story some context.