Death

The funeral home was quiet. Unseasonably quiet. They hadn't had a stiff through the doors in over a week.
A new big-chain post-life solutions provider - that's what they called themselves - had opened on the other side of town and it was taking away all their business.
"What are we going to do?" asked his son.
"I don't know, it's killing us."
They both laughed although neither found the situation funny.

Travellers

Nobody saw them arrive as it happened during the night, but when everyone got up the next day there were four caravans on the green next to the church.
Locals were up in arms. Nobody wanted them there. Why weren't the council doing anything? There was going to be litter and excrement everywhere.
Letters were written to their local MP.
The travellers went about their day and ignored the shouts of "pikey" and "gypo" that came from the hateful residents.
Just as suddenly they were gone.
No rubbish had been left and there was no sign that they'd ever been there.
Apart from a package on the steps of the village hall. A card thanking them for their generosity in allowing them to stay there (very tongue in cheek) and a cake (homemade, very good, but nobody dared to eat any).
"I'm glad they're gone. Bastards," said one man.

Memory

"Whose round is it?" asked Don.
They were into double figures and it was starting to get foggy.
"I think it's mine," said Ray.
"I thought it was mine."
"You got them in that last place."
He hadn't.
"But you bought two in a row before that."
Not true either.
"Should we just get our own?" Ray suggested.
"Ok," Don replied, knowing that it went totally against the ethos of the rounds system they had always employed and that it would doubtlessly ruin their friendship.

Curry

"I'll just have something mild," she mused as she perused the menu.
She had a peculiar definition of mild as what she eventually ordered had three chili peppers next to it on the menu.
Nobody mentioned this.
When it arrived everyone waited for her to react in a negative way to the strength.
The waiter came and did the obligatory is-everything-ok? dance.
"No, it's not. I ordered what I thought was a mild curry..."
Now it was all going to kick off. The waiter arched an eyebrow.
"...but this is too mild. Have your chef put more spice in it."
The plate was whisked away and returned minutes later, stronger than before.
"Oh my God!" she declared as she took her first taste, her face reddening in cartoon fashion.
The waiter walked away, smiling to himself.

Lollipops

He had helped kids cross the road outside the school safely for years. Two generations of some families had got to school in one piece thanks to him.
He always smiled at the children and their parents. He was known to whistle and sing too - one of those truly happy in their work.
And now he was suspended.
All because some idiot motorist who'd had to wait a few seconds longer than he deemed necessary had posted that thing on Facebook alleging he had done things with a kid once.
It wasn't true at all, but it had to be investigated.
His computer had been taken away by police and he felt dirty.
He knew that even once his name was cleared that the whole thing would follow him around like a bad smell for the rest of his life.
Why are people such bastards? he thought.

Bored

Why was there never anything to do?
Life in this town sucked.
All his friends were away and he had nobody to talk to.
And now he found himself in a derelict house with a can of petrol and a book of matches.

Dogwalkers

He knew of the dog owner rules when he bought his puppy.
When he saw another dogwalker in the park while he was walking his, he had to acknowledge them from afar like they were both owners of the same make of classic car meeting on a country lane and sharing a moment.
He knew that if he saw a fellow dogwalker walking their dog when he wasn't that he still had to greet them, but in a more casual way.
And he knew if he met a fellow dogwalker, but neither of them had their dogs with them that they were to ignore each other completely.
The politics were complicated.