THE SWEDE

Hope you enjoy this fictional short story by Robert

 

Swede

THE SWEDE

What can I say I love money or correctly, "I love making money."

It doesn’t make any difference how I make it as long as I don’t get put in jail doing it.

Some time back a fellow said he had a deal that would make us rich and he wanted to meet with me.  As it turned out he wanted to meet me in a bar.

When I showed up he was at the bar talking to a big man and by his looks I judged him to be a Swede. Before I made the man aware that I was here some guys went over and picked a fight with the Swede. They started to hit the Swede from all sides and he just stood there taking it.

Finally the two bar keeps broke it up and the Swede acted as if nothing had happened. I asked the man I was to meet why the Swede didn’t fight back and he told me he is one tough man and that pounding didn’t seem to bother him.

The guy I met wanted to tell me about his deal which included the bar we were in. I told him maybe later for I had something else on my mind.

I went over and engaged the Swede in conversation and learned that he spoke broken English well enough for me to follow. After trying to buy him a drink he said alcohol isn’t good for you so he didn’t drink.

“What are you doing in a bar if you don’t drink,” I asked.

He said, “This is where the paymaster comes to pay everybody off at the end of the week so I wait for him here.”

I asked him his name and he said, “You can call me Swede, everybody else does.”

I said, “Okay, Swede it is then.”

I had to ask, “Why didn’t you fight back when those guys were pounding you?”

He smiled and said, “They couldn’t hurt a flea so I just ignore them and they quit when they get tired.”

“Didn’t they hurt you?” and he answered; “Oh maybe a little and usually I have some bruises.”

I thought this is a mega oddity. I asked, “How would like a lot of money?”

He said it didn’t make much difference to him one way or another.

After spending two hours trying to get him to agree that making money was a good thing he said he would go along with whatever I wanted him to do.

I took Swede to a boxing camp and we were there for four weeks of intense training. The main thing taught was on how to release his full power on an opponent and on how to absorb the opponent’s blows on his arms instead of his face. There were other minor things but those were the majors.

At the camp there was a nurse, Abela there to take care of any injuries that inadvertently happened to any of the boxers. It was easy for tempers to out of control while you were getting bested.

Abela was a Scandinavian like Swede and she took a liking to him. So much so that when we hit the road she insisted she go with us. I had an old partner who had worked with me before and when I told him what I had planning he was all for it; and he became our front man.

In every city there is the scoundrel who everybody considers to be the toughest guy in town. The rascal no one would mess with.  Our front man Morley’s job was to find out who the guy was in these towns and set up a match with him.

Of course there was to be a lot of betting going on and we would get some good odds for the locals thought their man was the baddest scalawag around so they had to show their support by giving odds on him.

Morley could set up matches faster than we could fill them. The betting was always cash and put in a brief case for security reasons. The plan was for Swede to carry the local guy for a round or two and then the kayo punch would come out of nowhere.

Abela would always be the holder of the money and at the count of ten she was out of there with the cash. This went on week after week until we had built up a sizeable amount of betting money.

Morley set up our big match in a larger city where there was some real cash. This was to be our last big hit. Swede was in the best condition of his life. Abela managed his work out every day in and day out.

The night came when all of our cash was put up and this town had a professional as their hero. With the heavy odds the purse came to over two million dollars. We knew there were some tough guys involved and they didn’t plan on us walking out with the cash so they put a couple of their men with Abela guarding her and the money.

The fight was ready and round one was waiting for the bell.  Morley slipped up behind the two guards with his 38 S&W and put cuffs on them. He then locked them in a secure room and tossed the key away. As soon as the bell rang Swede went straight across the ring and hit the other guy with an uppercut that lifted him off his feet.

The referee just stood there looking at the unconscious professional fighter and Swede spit his mouthpiece out and hollered; “Count him out.”

At the count of ten Swede ran out of the building where our car was waiting for him, and we were well down the road before the people realized what had happened.

When we divided our money it turned out that Swede and Abela’s share was over a million dollars and Morley and I split the same amount.

This was the last of this business venture and I was looking for my next interest.

We had picked this last town because it wasn’t too many miles from Canada for Abela’s folks lived there and produced Maple Syrup.

As soon as Abela presented Swede to her folks she told them they were getting married.

At first her folks objected to having a wedding so quick after being introduced to the family but after Abela told her mother she might be with child (she wasn’t) the wedding was held right away; and Swede was ready to learn the right way to tap a Maple tree.

Finis