The streetlights were doing their thing on the horizontal office blinds casting shadowed bars on the 2 tins of tuna that were adorning one of the suede covered walls. A figure sat in a leather chair, silhouetted and framed by the window. A finger drew slow circles on the mouse mat to one side, the other arm was complete only to the elbow.
Silence. Then the silhouette spoke:
'I must say I'm a little disappointed, Edna. I was disappointed when 3.8 came out but this is somehow....worse.'
Edna took a step forward, palms up,
"But Mik...'
'Shhhhh.....Please don't say anything. At all. I'm a little disappointed and it would really be good if you said nothing at all. For your sake. Please.'
Edna was standing in front of the leather topped desk, her cool composure in smithereens as the menacing figure of Mr Mik scrutinised her. Edna's eyes darted around the room as if searching for a button marked "Wake Up From Dream". Panic was rising in her as the hackneyed scenario played itself out. She was a bit-part player in a dime novel and seemingly nothing could prevent the cliched demise that was ambling toward her.
'You see my predicament is this: I sent you to do something. And you didn't do it. And- and I've really been thinking hard about this Edna- I can't for the life of me work out why. For the life of you I should say, I can't work out why.'
'I'm sorry Mr Mik but...'
'Shhh.Shhh.Shhh. I can make you not talk if you want....would you like that? Would that be easier for you? I just want to help here. To facilitate proceedings'
A shake of the head.
'Fine. Now, I'm used to failure. God knows I ran a 2-bit post house myself in this crummy city so I know what it's like to be up against it. And that's the bit that poses a problem. You see, I can deal with my own failures because I'm the boss. It's a "perk" if you will. But you....now you're an employee. You can't fail because I didn't employ you to do that.' Mr Mik was balancing imaginary embodiments of these concepts in his hands as he spoke. 'Now, you speak.'
Edna realised that this was the only opportunity to make her case and if she blew it then that would be that. All she had to do was say the right words. But, she didn't know what they were.
'Erm...it didn't go like you said it would Mr Mik..'
'No. I'm sorry', Said Mr mik gravely.'That's not what I wanted to hear. Oh well', he sighed.
He pressed a mouse key and the door opened. Edna turned to see two more acquaintances of Mr Mik's. 'Let me introduce you to my associates. On the left is Mr Aron B spline. The right, Lord Chinnington. They are here to help you collect your things and escort you to the door. They'll be escorting you with extreme prejudice.'
'Wha...no...No!....', cried Edna in panic. She eyed the 2 behemoths with terror. Both looked like they had ben working out all day and had left only seconds to grab the nearest ill fitting suit from their younger brothers' closet.
'Er', interrupted Lord Chinnington his arm half-raised as if asking to go to the toilet in school, looking nervously between Mr Mik and Mr Spline. 'You want us to kill her first, right?'
'I am thinking he is wanting us to be doing that as well also, Lord C, but I am being a little confused', replied Spline in an over-the-top Icelandic accent.
'Yes boys', said Mr Mik wearily. 'Kill her and dump her in skip in the alley. Jeez'.
..............................
As the hired goons half-walked, half-dragged Edna down the fire escape her mind desperately sought an escape route. When they reached the bottom her panic had subsided and resignation won over. She turned to Lord C. 'OK ya big lunkhead, get it over with'.
Lord C shrugged his shoulders and said to Spline 'You wanna do it Mr B?'. B Spline shrugged and from his holster produced a large, still-wet mackerel. Looking at it quizzically his face brightened and he grinned,'It is not a wonder that my tea was having a metallic taste last night'. Lord Chinnington looked puzzled. Edna groaned. Having already been bludgeoned into unconciousness with the hard realities of a whiskey bottle she was now facing death by mackerel.
B Spline drew back his arm and started swinging.
Next week: You must remember it's the journey not the destination