Berny's Lucky Day

Berny Scrimshaw was a careful gambler. He thoroughly studied the form of every horse to race on a Saturday to help him make the best decision possible. The autumn carnival was nearing its end and the days were getting shorter. The chill he felt as he left the betting shop on dusk, belied the joy he experienced as he had just won $21,054 on the last race of the day. The rough 45 to 1 horse, Round-The-Outside, had poked its nose in front right on the line to make his four-race quadrella pay the largest amount all season. True to its name, it had come around the outside from the final turn to match and overtake such brilliant horses as Hoof-Hearted, Puma-Pants and WhyKickAMooCow, all more highly chanced thoroughbreds. The jockey, Peter Vaquero, whooped with joy as he realised he had taken the honours after a photo finish decision. Berny walked home whistling his favourite tune, the Music Box Dancer.

Arriving home, Berny hung his hat on the landing inside his old but attractive front door. His hound Henry greeted him fondly, jumping up on his leg and spinning around like a frantic child. Up and around, up and around Henry jumped and spun. Scratching his ear and neck always calmed Henry down and Henry knew now that dinner was not too far away. His tail wagged like a rock group’s metronome, thwacking Berny’s leg as they wound their way to the kitchen. Berny’s glowing good will was going to influence the meal that Henry was about to receive. Not tonight the tin of Mate, the top selling canned dog food, with added calcium and YYY. Tonight would be the rump steak that Berny had promised himself earlier that day with some added leftover chicken. Henry would be well satisfied within the hour. Once Henry’s meal was ready, Berny started to consider what he would now do for his evening’s repast.

Berny knew his best mate, Adam Childs, would be at the local pub. He had known Adam for over 30 years, and both knew each other's habits like the sun spots on the back of their hands. Occasionally, a new one would pop up and it coincidentally matched the exposure of a new facet to the unique gems that were each other's personalities. Tonight, Berny noticed a new sun spot, just as he entered the pub. “Hmm” he thought, “That wasn’t there yesterday!”. The night would prove interesting.

“Hey Kidso!” said Berny, as he came through the door of the Leaky Owl pub. “Hey Scrimmo, how’d you go today!?” replied Adam. “Well, do I have a story for you!” began Berny who then went on to describe in great detail how he had come into the huge amount of winnings. It was his biggest win ever and his warm glow he eschewed was soon noticed by others in the pub. Soon, he had 7 others listening intently to the last two races were replayed in exquisite detail, even down to the jockeys colours matching different football clubs from around the area. Some got bored with these details, but Adam thrived on it. The references to team colours spanned the globe, football, gridiron, rugby, hockey, basketball and baseball. Berny’s true mates endured the torment of the references and others dropped off getting bored without realising the references. Tonight, there was one that was not a friend that listened til the end.

Walter Cankle listened intently. He had lost a reasonably large sum of money on the days racing and was listening to Berny intently. He knew what the quadrella had paid and was aware that Berny liked a beer or three when had a win. Walter was known to Berny as a bloke to have a beer with, but he did not consider him a close friend. Berny was soon to find out how much of a mate he was not!

Berny finished his story and all who had heard it held him in awe due to the amount of the prize he had garnered. One held him in higher esteem than others but for nefarious reasons. Walter ceased drinking due to the fact he had no money, but also as he was formulating a plan. Walter knew where Berny lived and the route he would walk home. Walter believed that Berny had that huge prize upon him, and he wanted to, no, needed to relieve him of it. Walter had rent overdue as well as a book-maker, Bart, to pay. Bart politely extended credit to all until it became six months overdue. Walter valued his knee caps so knew he needed cash now! Walter said good night to all, but only a few heard it.

Berny had the best night since his wife had passed. He blessed her as he left the pub at closing for his 12-minute walk home. Henry would be waiting at the door for him and would greet him like a long-lost lover, no matter what time or what drunken state he was in. That was true love. Henry crossed the road and turned left into George St. Four hundred metres from the corner, life changed as he knew. Down George St came a taxi that was going at high speed. Suddenly, its front right tyre exploded and the car slewed to the right and hit Berny on the footpath. Walter had been waiting 30 metres further down the street and swore and cursed that his target had been clipped and taken out. Being reasonably sober, and having been brought up as a good Samaritan by his strict Catholic mother, went to check on the occupants of the taxi. Berny lay unconscious on the footpath, and lo and behold in the passenger seat of the taxi was Bart. The vengeful bookmaker that cast the fear of God into Walter lay unconscious next to the driver, who had unluckily been speared by a fence post. Bart was unconscious due to the excessive speed that the taxi had hit the fence. Walter knew that all of Bart’s transactions were coddled in a little black book with coded entries that only Bart and his accountant knew the key to. He quickly felt through all of Bart’s pockets and found the book inside his coat pocket. He flipped though it and knew it was the book he needed. This would absolve him of all debts, so he knew he could sleep well that night.

Berny shook his head. The siren of the ambulance had woken him from his unplanned slumber. There was a taxi next to him with the driver with a fence post through his head! This was not a normal awakening! The ambulance officer saw Berny rising and came to him to ensure he was in a fit state. He shook the officer off and stood up. He spied in the back of the taxi the other ambulance office tending to Bart the Bookie as was known. Bart came to, but through further questioning, it was realised that he had no memory of who he was. In fact he had no memory of anything since his second form school dance where he had lost his virginity to Brenda Cartagena behind the school assembly hall. Nothing. His three successful businesses, his 2 adoring daughters nor his second wife; all wiped from his memory as easy as shaking an etch-a-sketch.

Walter slept well for the rest of his life...