Part 12: Fit The Tenth : Sledgehammer

Fit The Tenth : Sledgehammer
I made a late start after spending the night before at the Lagerhaus Casino (one of many little establishments) playing Euchre. Euchre was not considered a game of stakes in many places, however the proprietor of the Lagerhaus (and several of his competitors) had devised a form of Euchre, which many of Funkytown's residents were familiar with, that could be played for chips. This variant had caught on elsewhere around the state and even beyond, and become known as Funkytown, or Ashy Bend Euchre.

Whether for stakes or fun, I sucked at it, but fortunately my partner for the night, Bernie, was pretty good at it so I managed not to lose too much. In any case, it was nearly 2am before I got home and another hour before I was asleep, so still getting my arse into my pants as I drove my Model T to the City Hall just after ten later that morning. Even so, as I drove past, I noticed at least three panhandlers, one bagsnatcher, two pickpockets and several gangs of squeegee kids carrying out their noble trade on the streets. I even noticed a carjacking taking place as I crossed High Street, but aside from that I saw nothing out of the ordinary.

I parked the car and by the time I got to my office, Maria was already waiting inside.

Late night?

Yes.

The secretary brought in coffee for the both of us.

Crime has gone right off the page over the past month! You've gotta do something!

Hmm, this is a really good brew, Beryl. What was that again Maria?

I've prepared a report on crime figures over the past few months, Wal. They paint a disturbing picture.



Well, what do you expect? It's tourist season. High time for opportunist crime.



What do you mean we need a jail? We've got a huge prison just across the bay! I can see it from here!

Yes, but as that Orville guy said, it's not for municipal prisoners.

Oh. What about the mass murderers?

The coffee was starting to bring me around to reality. I had a look at the map in the report.



Eh, it's not so bad, at least the main town is protected.

Our resources are stretched to the limit. If nothing else, at least consider building another police station.

Naaah, she'll be right.





Crime had increased a fair deal, while the population had dipped again, but I put that down to the wowsers moving out after the introduction of legal gambling. But at least we could regulate and tax it now, and use the proceeds to benefit the community.



At least the yearly budget was still well in the black.


And of course with money to spend, I added two more pumps as the existing supply was just about fully utilised.


And extended the downtown housing area some more, in fact stretching into Port Funkytown. Perhaps not the most salubrious of neighbourhoods, but with a particular character.


Speaking of neighbourhoods with character, a large discount variety store opened on Deadmeat Street, where people could stock up on cheap knick-knacks from Formosa.

Shortly afterward, Charmaine from the Chamber of Commerce met me in the office.

Hello, we don't seem to have met before.

Charmaine Krugerrand. From the city Chamber of Commerce.

Oh yeah, commerce. Yeah, that's kind of a new thing around here. Figured there'd be some two-bit organisation claiming responsibility for it. So what brings you to City Hall.



Oh, pickpockets. Yeah, we've got a few of those haven't we?

They are a problem.

Why, can't handle a bit of competition?

At least we provide a service for taking people's money.

Yeah, but the pickpockets do too, providing angst and disappointment to their clients for a small fee. Surprised they aren't members of the chamber themselves, really.

I knew it. The mayor's a jerk.

But don't the people just love me for it!


All jokes aside, the department store disappeared as soon as it arrived, and in it's place was some kind of ... castle, flea market kind of thing. I didn't know what was up, though Charmaine may have had a point about the crime.

She wasn't the only petitioner trying to put it across, however. Some muscular dude bailed me up in the lobby of City Hall. I thought he was a new security guard.

Err, I'm the mayor, I don't need to show you my pass. I've got my chain!

I know who you are, I'm actually a petitioner, not the guard.

Oh, OK. I can spare some moments, err...

Samson.

... Samson. Come to my office and we can talk there.

Of course.

He didn't say a word while we walked through the halls of power. I had become pretty used to all sorts of freaks coming around to bug me, so I could deal with that as well.

OK, what seems to be the problem, Sam?



Well that's interesting. I thought we were already the Crime Capital of SimNation.

Not quite yet, but we're heading that way. The town already has a bad reputation for the way we have corrupted the pure and innocent game of Euchre.

Ah, yes, well. I had nothing to do with that. Anyway, Samson, I will look into the feasibility of building a municipal jail!

Thank you, sir. That's all I ask.

Samson left, and I thought that would be the end of it, but Beryl informed me that Greta had come, unannounced. At least I knew she only brought good news. So I had her let in.

OK, what's new, Greta?

Wonderful news, Mr Bunkley, as the town has passed 35,000 citizens, I am pleased to inform you that there's going to be a statue made of you!



Oh shit, you're going to encase me in carbonite, aren't you?

Hoo-hoo-hoo, oh, you card, Wal. No, we're just going to have a facsimile made of you. It'll be 10 times your height!



Sweet.



A logical place for it on the corner of High and Bunkley, which I would have turned into a roundabout.


Once the roads were reconstructed, the statue was placed. There was even a ceremony and all at the unveiling. I had to sit on a dais along with several other dignitaries and community pests.

Well this is pretty embarrassing.

Why? You've done a very good job building up the town.

Yeah, but, you know. I mean the kudos is fine, but I'd prefer a more modest legacy.

As MC for the day, Greta stepped up to speak.

One score minus six years ago, a great man sailed to this district, in fact to this very spot, and began to lay out the beginnings of our lovely town. He has been tireless in his endeavours, and as the city comes of age, we, the people, felt it was appropriate to honour our wonderful mayor, Wallace Bunkley, with a grand statue, to remind future generations of the vision and ambition that Mayor Bunkley has graced this town with. And now I would like to ask the man himself to say a few words and to unveil his statue!

"Oh here we go", I thought, as I stepped up to the lectern.

OK, guys, how's it going out there?

The assemblage just looked at me with a collective blank.

Uhh, I know speeches are boring, especially ones wanking on about how perfect the town is as if it couldn't be better, because we can always do better! So rather than waffle on about how awesome I am and you are and how the whole town is really really great, let's just cut to the chase, shall I?

I walked off the dais and up to the statue, and then pulled the cord to unveil it.

As the covers came off and the crowd gasped and then, only after an awkward pause, began to applaud, I could clearly hear Gus say "what the fuck is that".

Which were my exact sentiments as well. My god, it was hideous.



The sledgehammer. Why.

Still, the pigeons seemed to like shitting on it, so it wasn't all bad. I just wish I hadn't made it so I had to drive past it every day.

Of course, bigger cities meant bigger problems, and Randall made sure I knew about them.



OK, so we need a jail, another school, another hospital, more parks, uhhh, what else?

I think that's it, actually. When are you going to build that lighthouse we've been promised, by the way?

On that headland out west, when I can get around to it.

OK, just wondering.

Also, it was on your say so that I legalised gambling. Why.

I'm not sure, actually. You put me on the spot about that.

Yeah. I think, between that, that bloody statue, and, oh, what else, oh yeah, whirlpools in the river, wow, I'm starting to get a little jaded with Funkytown.

I like the statue. That hammer's quite fetching.

Well at least someone likes it.

To sort out the mess, I had a couple of surveys done, to assess land value and crime rates in the Old Town.


Land values were, as expected, highest around the lake and the parks, and for some reason the statue boosted desirability as well.


Crime was manageable. In fact I really wanted to build two new police stations but demolish the existing one, so that coverage was better distributed. To be honest, I felt that gambling was more problems than they were worth, especially with steamboats dropping off riverboat gangsters at the Ashy Bend to conduct their duels at dawn.


After a while the population began to build itself up again.


And, so, another year, more money to waste on stupid crap.


Like reconfiguring Port Funkytown. Whilst I kept the port itself intact, I completed the plan of extending the railway there for good access, as well as planting a new station.


Which I then hooked up to the industrial area, which was also part of the plan.


I'd done very little tree planting, so to give the new residents of the Port some relief I planted some on the rise facing the docks to ameliorate some of the effects of air and noise pollution.


But I decided I didn't like palm trees, they looked silly.


So I had every single palm tree in town replaced with deciduous varieties. Much nicer.


And finally someone had figured out that the crime wave was due to... guess what, gambling! Hurrah for them.

The complainant turned out to be Sophia.



Well that's an interesting theory.

It is such a grubby activity. And I know you know the effect it's had on crime.

Yeah, well, if you don't mind, I'm going to get a second opinion.

As you wish.



I'm not sure that the muggings are making people happy, Mort. And the kids suffocating in cars! I didn't even know you could do that in an open-top Model T.

I assume that you're going to take the side of that bleeding heart liberal, then?

Umm, no, I think I'll leave things as they are.



Decadent? What do you call bloody art exhibitions of nudes, Sophia?

Well, there's decadent, and decadent. At least have some style about it!

I guess.

Tell me Wal, do you still sleep by yourself at night? Do you go home to an empty house, devoid of love, wondering what has become of your life?

what are you getting at, Sophie.

*ahem* If you don't mind, Wal, I think I'm done for the day. See you tomorrow.

I just want to know.

Well, I'm pretty happy by myself, actually. Most of the time. I'm kept busy enough by the town.

Of course. Well, I think I might leave you know. I hope you will reconsider my request.

Uh, sure, Sophia.

After sorting out a few papers, I drove home that night, had a bite to eat and a late night cocoa, got into my nightgown, and settled into bed and turned the light off. I didn't feel alone at all, at least not as much as I though Sophia hoped I was.

I woke up just a couple of hours later when I felt something heavy land on my legs. I thought "that's weird, I don't remember having a dog", then I turned on the light, and there at the base of my bed was a severed llama's head.

I screamed a bit (I mean, who wouldn't?) and then shot out of bed, racing to the window, and noticed it was ajar. I thought I saw someone running into the distance, but I couldn't tell in the dark. I called the cops immediately but they caught no trace of the intruder. I had them go over the bed and arranged for round-the-clock security at the mansion. Maria said something about L'il Fifi being released from the prison on the peninsula, but I had no idea what the hell was going on, but it seemed pretty clear that someone wanted me to fear for my life. Fat chance.

Not that I seemed that concerned about anyone else's health either. One day a few weeks later, Randall walked in, I said, "the schools, right?", he just nodded gravely.




You should be pretty familiar with how I work by this.

Of course.


As I drove home that night, I thought "Hmm, there's actually some nice buildings downtown for once."


By this stage the Great War was in full swing, but it didn't affect the continual surplus budgets.


I finally decided to make the soccer players happy and finally put in a pitch for them, next to the Deadmeat Street estates.


Which I also expanded. I had to keep the city growing, to justify every improvement.


Not only that, I continued my tree planting program, again strategically to provide buffers against the pollution.


The lads were well pleased, until they learned what I had decided to call the park. I'd probably change it to Memorial Park, since the burgeoning overseas war looked like it was going to get very bloody.


The past three years had moved pretty quickly, but I was felt like I hadn't aged in the 15 years I'd been in charge. Indeed neither did any of my advisors, either. For example, judging from the way Moe looked when I first met him, he should've been dead by now. Apparently he'd moved into a proper house since the novelty of the Haunted House and scaring off kids had worn off.


But I couldn't worry about things like that too much. I was being kept busy enough by the town...


... for there were dark clouds brewing over it.

As I settled down in my office one morning, I noticed a business card had been left face down on my desk. I knew I'd left a clean desk when I'd left the previous evening, so I asked Beryl about it, but she knew nothing. So I picked up the card and flipped it over. It bore three words.

"Call Cousin Vinnie."