I AM WITH MY DAD, MUM, AND KIDS. We are having a quiz night at my dad and mum’s house. I am the Quiz Master. The kids have a games console that connects to the TV and which has a “quiz” setting. It costs £44.40 per month to store 15 questions on the console for a year, or £58.40 per month with the option to cancel the subscription at any time. I feel this is too expensive and decide to write the questions on a sheet of paper instead.
I have an argument with my dad and mum. I tell them that I no longer believe Jehovah’s Witnesses are “the truth”. They get upset with me, but I point out to them that they don’t believe either. A couple of friends, Dave and Bec, arrive to join in the quiz. My mum is crying because I don’t want to be a Jehovah’s Witness anymore. Dave and Bec get upset with me too and decide to leave. Then my dad and mum kick me out.
I have nowhere to go and leave with just a bag, my phone, and my wallet. I eventually go to see a couple of people I used to study the Bible with. They rummage through my bag looking for things to steal, but I have my phone and wallet in my pocket. I walk around town looking for a suitable house to rent but can’t find anything, so I return to the couple I used to study with. They say I can sleep there overnight and they will feed me. I give them £5 to cover the cost of food. They are unimpressed because I have lots of £10 and £20 notes in my wallet.
I end up walking through Mansfield in the snow. I go to a homeless ghetto where people are living under blue tarpaulins. I am on a mobility scooter. I ask several people for directions to the town centre, but no one will help me. I find myself driving down a long corridor on my mobility scooter. I pass through many sets of orange double doors. Along the way, I meet a woman who offers to help me. She gives me a white feather which has been shaped into the letters S.U.U.K.
I get onto a large conveyor belt that goes uphill. As I am moving along a boy band appears and starts to sing. I join in with them. I ask one of the singers, “Are you a Jehovah’s Witness?” He tells me he’s not, but he belongs to a strange Austrian cult. I tell him I had been a Jehovah’s Witness doing 90 hours per month in field ministry and that my marriage had broken up and I lost my job at Gamston Airport.
We reach the top of the conveyor belt and my bag is taken through a set of rubber flaps. I follow wearing a long, blue overcoat. The woman I met earlier is waiting for me on the other side. There are two men with her. They approach me and shake my hand for an uncomfortably long time. The woman asks the men if they can give me a job.
“The problem is,” says one of the men, “we already have too many employees.”
“I’m desperate,” I say, “I’ll do anything for £10 a day!”
I start to explain that I used to work at Gamston Airport and that I was once a wedding photographer.
“Yes,” says the man, “But your wife kicked you out because you were a naughty boy.”
I suddenly realise that the men are Jehovah’s Witness elders and they know everything about me. Just as I think I have no chance of employment the other man offers me a job.
“I had no way back,” I cry as I hug the men, “But now I do!”