He carries onto his room

He didn’t go in.

Merry shook his head and walked past. In his room, he picked up the controller, but couldn’t settle. Eventually he just gave up. Grabbing his house keys, he dropped the snib on the door and left the house to go to the park. As usual, the pavement was a biological minefield of dog excrement.

There was a soft play area at the entrance to the common. It had been good when it had been built, but it had quickly been abused to a state where within three years the council was now talking about removing it totally. The seats on the swings were broken, someone had stolen the metal slide for scrap, along with the monkey bars. The three chickens on springs were still there, though bent over, their springs stretched and bent. The chain walkway from the play house to the top of the slide had been cut up and used by various individuals as bike, (motorised and pedal), security chains, as well as fighting aids. The roundabout was seized. Mostly because the bearings had been burned out by boys tipping over scooters and motor bikes and resting the rear wheels up against the outer rim of the roundabout. Once suitably matched up, the various motorised bikes were revved so the rear wheels’ spun the roundabout with great speed, hurtling out children in all directions in a manner that ensured for most of them, they would decide to never do so again. NASA centrifugal training council estate style.

A couple of drunk twelve year olds hurled abuse at everyone that had the misfortune to walk into their inebriated narrow Vision.

Merry mooched around the play park. He really fancied just sitting on the swings and idly swinging back and forth with only his thoughts for company. Not for the first time, he mentally castigated the idiots that had broken the swings for a single minute of destructive pleasure.
Not for the first time, Merry wished that he could turn the clock back to when the park and football ground had been new. The goals with their bright white nets. Nets that had been the first item to be stolen. Before then, the football had been great and all the kids from the surrounding estates had congregated to play informal ‘first goal wins’ tournaments with teams made up from the street you lived in. For a moment, dreams were fuelled by fantasies of playing for Premier League teams and Premier League glory.

At least, that was until the park was vandalised and the pitch became a dog toilet for all the local dog walkers

“Do you want to make some easy money?”

At first Merry wasn’t aware that the words were directed at him, so wrapped up in his thoughts was he.

“Sorry, you talking to me?” Merry asked of the mid twenty year old man pulled up alongside on a push bike. The man looked overly dramatically around him at the empty street.

“I can see why you might think I was talking to someone else...”

“Okay, okay...” Merry capitulated.

“I’ve seen you around, do you want to make some cash for an hours work?”

“How much, and doing what? I’m not sucking your cock.” Merry finished defensively.

“I’m not a fucking gay peado, you little shit. Twenty quid, for half an hour or so of giving out little packets to those I give you the nod.”

“Twenty quid for an hour?”

“Probably not even that long.”

Merry thought about it. He could do a lot with twenty quid.

“And that’s all?”

“That’s all dude. You in?”

Merry made a decision.

“I’m in...”

Or.

“I’m not interested, sorry.”