All Ticked Off
The tick board in the
old pawn shop hung from a length of rope. Customers came and went.
Some turned goods over for a little cash. Some paid outright for the
items they wanted or wanted back. And some paid on tick, returning
each payday to hand over the next installment of payment for the
purchase they were already using. Each installment was duly ticked
off on the tick board until it was fully paid off.
Every time someone paid
off something bought on tick, the rope grew a little thinner, a
little more frayed, as if each tick cut through a single fibre. Every
time someone had to default on something bought on tick, the rope
grew a little thicker, a little sturdier, as if it was taking what
was owed it in a more direct fashion.
It went on year after
year like that, the rope waxing and waning in response to the
fortunes of the customers, but never quite breaking even at its
thinnest, until a loan shark moved in next door.
The loan shark lured in
customers, wrapping them in debts they could never pay back while he
fattened on them like the rope. Nobody could afford to pay on tick
anymore, and the board hung empty, the rope gathering dust rather
than strands.
As the customers' debts
grew, they brought more to be pawned and bought less, until the shop
was paying out more than it took in, and the loan shark smiled, and
smiled, and smiled.
The owner of the pawn
shop took the board down and unfastened the rope. It swung lightly
from his hands, like the twitching tail of a snake, as he told it
softly, "We had a bargain, you and I. You collected what was
owed, only what was owed, and I pledged my honesty against yours. But
now there is one who takes with a smile, until they owe their lives
and their souls to him. There is no honesty in him, and he seeks to
drive me out and take you over. He owes us the truth. He owes us an
apology. He owes us an explanation. I call on you this final time to
collect what is owed."
The rope slid from his
hands to coil on the floor, and one frayed end caught the light of
the setting sun, turning it into strands of shadow that stretched out
across the floor towards the loan shark's building.
Next door, the loan
shark began to scream. The sound grew thinner and rougher and more
frayed as it went on, as if he was unravelling from the inside out.
Nobody ever found his
body.
When the owner of the
pawn shop hung up the tick board once more, the rope was thick and
strong and fresh, as if had never been frayed at all.
