Thomas lived in hope.
His hair dressing salon was small, one assistant
But he knew one day his break would come.
He dreamed of a salon where his assistants did nude haircuts of a Friday.
But his current assistant, Mary, the 63-year-old virgin was never going to make a blow wave worthwhile.
Richard lived in hope.
His florist shop was small with also one assistant.
He cut and arranged in the hope of better days.
He dreamed of a thriving business where he catered to the floral needs of every high-end client.
But his chain smoking assistant, Athol, blowing smoke in every customer’s face was not going to sell any roses.
Harold lived in hope.
His bar at the end of the High Street had one tired old assistant.
He shouted his mates, he had happy hour or two, he was congenial.
He dreamed of a packed bar where everyone’s hurt was forgotten.
He served every drink imaginable in the hope of increasing his clientele.
But his slovenly assistant white-anted his every effort taking away his spirit in every way.
Thomas, Richard and Harold met the first Friday of the month
They discussed business, hopes and dreams
Every step forward was celebrated
They were men of hope, a tad delusional, but who said dreams had to be real?
Including ways of eliminating their respective assistants, but cheap labour was hard to find.