Politically Correct Bedtime Stories by James Finn Garner Read Free Book Online Page B

or imagined, and his mannerisms and high-pitched voice were certainly unique. Although he looked as if he came from some world other than (but certainly not unequal to) our own, he gained the trust of the desperate town councillors.
    ‘I will be able to rid your town of the caravan site dwellers,’ said the man of enhanced strangeness, ‘but you must promise to pay me 100 pieces of gold.’
    The town councillors wanted this whole unpleasant business finished as soon as possible, so they readily assented. The sooner the caravan site was eliminated, the sooner they could all revert to their open-minded, progressive selves.
    So the man of enhanced strangeness got down to work. He reached into his tattered knapsack and pulled out a sophisticated, compact recording machine. The people around him looked on with interest as he inserted a few tapes, set some knobs, and checked the sound levels. Then he began mumbling into the built-in microphone. No one could hear exactly what he was saying, but the man seemed to be lacking in coherence. Abruptly, he stopped mumbling, stood up, and told the town councillors that he needed a van with a public-address system.
    The authorities scrambled after this strange request. They managed to find such a van at the Department of Public Biodiversity and handed over the keys to the man of enhanced strangeness. He climbed in and drove off, popping the cassette he had made into the sound system. Everyone followed the van as it headed towards the caravan site.
    Soon music began to emerge from the slowly moving van—generally pop music but also occasional classics like ‘The Ballad of the Green Berets’ and ‘Ghost Riders in the Sky’. The town councillors were puzzled by this, until they noticed people emerging from their caravans, tool sheds, and taverns. The people had a certain glassy expression and talked to themselves as they stumbled along.
    ‘I’m going to find a job,’ said one. ‘I hear the funfair is taking people on.’
    ‘I think I’ll join the professional stock car racing circuit,’ said another.
    ‘Do you think I could make a living by signing up for medical experiments?’ asked a third.
    The denizens of the caravan site followed the van as it drove slowly towards the edge of town. Soon both they and it disappeared over the horizon, and the town councillors raised a cheer.
    About an hour later the van returned, minus its entourage. ‘I led them all to the main road,’ said the man of enhanced strangeness as he alighted from the van. ‘They’re out thumbing lifts to anywhere but Hamelin. Now the caravan site is free for you to use in whatever way you want.’
    ‘Marvellous!’ said one of the authorities, who was serving as a spokesperson. ‘Now that they’re gone, we can commence with our plans for a Third-World Refugee Reorientation Centre. Thank you, thank you.’
    ‘Now, if you will kindly pay me the 100 pieces of gold you promised, I’ll be on my way.’
    ‘Well, er … Hamelin is striving to establish an economy that is based on human capital and not the mere exploitation of physical resources. And so, to this end, we’d like to offer you this coupon book, which entitles you to such services in Hamelin as free massages and seminars on releasing your inner child.’
    The man of enhanced strangeness squinted his eyes. ‘You promised me 100 pieces of gold,’ he said, growing visibly angry. ‘Now pay up or suffer the consequences.’
    ‘If you wish to abandon your responsibility for making the world a more equitable place,’ clucked the spokesperson, ‘so be it. We will have to give you the official Hamelin IOU, which can be redeemed for a significant portion of its face value at many of the post offices and off-licences in the surrounding towns.’
    The man of enhanced strangeness paused, then chuckled eerily and climbed back in the van. Before anyone could stop him, he began to drive through all the residential areas of Hamelin. As he went, the van