Epilogue PC Alex Peters was having some trouble with his Kidneys. While suffering from the effects of a drunken fight someone had stolen them. This meant he had only 12 hours to live. Channels of thought raced through his cloudy, hungover mind at an annoyingly slow pace as how to solve this problem. ‘I could put an ad in the paper’ he thought to himself ‘But we haven’t got the money and it wouldn’t get printed until next Tuesday’. Another approach was required. He had to quickly find a way to obtain the missing organ. He needed help so he asked his new wife. ‘No problem. I can get you one’ he claimed. Some time later he returned with a newspaper parcel containing a kidney. ‘There’s steak and a pie in there as well’ he announced. Alex jumped with delight ‘Bonus!’ he thought. ‘It’s alright’ downplayed Mark ‘thank that bloke for opening the chippy.’ ‘Hang on’ said Alex ‘ I thought we didn’t have any money’. ‘I didn’t need any money’ Mark explained ‘ I swapped it for my liver’. They thought for a minute, trying to figure out the catch. Alex finally pointed out the devastating consequences of Marks courageous sacrifice. ‘Doesn’t that mean you’ve gotto give up drinking?’. Mark’s jaw dropped with a crashing impact. It was an emergency. The search for replacement was of utmost importance. The situation had to be resolved before the pubs opened. After a tiring but unsuccessful search they both felt resigned to an unhealthy fate. Mark was facing the depressing concept of the rest of his life without another drink. The pain was lifted by the fact he was going to die. A cruel, false dawn passed him. His life seemed fulfilled with a wave of hope as out of the corner of his eyes shone a distant liver in the background. Everything seemed to be a blur as his eyes almost instantly registered earth shattering proportions.  The dog food also contained marrowbone jelly and his limbs were fine. It took a while for the seriousness of the situation to sink in. A plan was devised; a plan that epitomises the image of the NHS. They planned to get loads of money and join BUPA. This meant they would have to get a fortune. ‘We need to win a lot’ Alex repeated as Mark fell about laughing. He folded in a spasm of sniggering laughter. After several attempts to extract what was so funny, Alex finally succeeded. ‘That’s dog food’ Mark explained ‘win-a-lot!’.  Alex got the joke and secretly plotted to file for a divorce. They had no capital to ‘invest’ in gambling so they decided to conduct an extensive search of the pavement. Alex had once stumbled across 50p which a criminal had dropped while running away from a van he was driving. He couldn’t help feeling partly responsible for the escape because he’d forgotten to close the doors. But there again. no escape, no 50p. He couldn’t help finding some job satisfaction from this. He got offered a job at group 4 before deciding to make amends by running the convict over.   The resulting street search was in many ways counter productive. They had lost a couple of hours valuable time but found 22p. However this financial gain had to be weighted against other considerations. During the search they had lost 3 feet of small intestine, 7 fingers, a pancreas but found a pair of lungs. After realising the last item had no financial value as they were actually some bagpipes, seemingly all hope was fading fast for our two heroes, well twats. A new approach was needed, they needed to think. ‘This would have been a lot easier if you hadn’t sold your brain a couple of months ago’ Mark bitched after a couple of minutes. ‘Shut up’ Alex responded ‘I can’t think’.   Time passes. If this was a film I’d use a dissolve or fade. It’s a book so I just write ‘time passes’ or waffle on for a bit because by the time you’ve read this you might realise that time passes. Not long, just a couple of minutes, or two lines of waffle. I’m getting nearer to my allocated words. A little more waffle and then we continue. ‘I know’ said Alex after a moment or two ‘I could sell my skin’. ‘But then your skin tight jeans wouldn’t fit.’ pointed out Mark ‘Besides it keeps your blood in.’ ‘Yeah but it wouldn’t matter as much if I cut myself while shaving’ Alex said, trying to justify his suggestion. After a few more uninteresting and unproductive minutes Alex’s wife comes up with a twisted plan of brutal devastation. ‘We could just kill someone with a donor card’ he suggested. Alex wonders whether his wife has just been possessed by Hitler as well as the Chief all that time ago. However they were running out of options. After a few moments a scheme was devised. It was inspired by Mark who had been in the traffic squad until his glaring driving faults had been uncovered to his colleagues in a glaring off duty incident. He had gone ram raiding with them and missed the shop. Mark’s idea was to cause a car crash by changing the colours of the bulbs at a nearby crossing. However after three quarters of an hour it seemed that the plan needed drastic amendment. It took a while for the major fault to be identified. Once the mistake had been rectified they awaited for a victim to fall into the trap. They waited and waited. After waiting through their break they waited a bit more. There was an encore of waiting before they realised the road was closed.   There was a separate spell of waiting before roadworkers appeared and raised an issue of discontent. They were unhappy with the way they were disturbing their work as Alex had pushed Mark who had fallen on a cone. The workers reacted badly against the fallen cone as it threatened the success of the complex masterplan. The plan was to delay motorists for as long as possible while concealing the fact that no-one was working. The rabble of roadworkers surrounded Mark and Alex. They shouted abuse at them and said the policemen had no life, no friends and said they were gay. The policemen said they were too. Most of the force was there were only rumours about the Chief. A confrontation arose when the two parties had an argument about hair dye. A stand off between the policemen and the roadworkers. It was an ugly affair, with none of the people looking very attractive. The situation exacerbated when someone from the roadworkers stole Marks hairband. It was all handbags at ten paces. Alex with his brown trimmed leather brief, his opponent brandishing a little crocodile skinned number with contrasting buckle. They stood against each other, yards apart, the mid day sun beating down upon them. Alex awaited a counter offensive and considered a highly dangerous high heel charge. In one swift movement he detached his dangerous footwear and swooped towards the enemy. The roadworker reacted quickly and pushed him into a hole, laddering his tights in the process. He had penetrated Alex’s defence, but still there was doubt surrounding the flawless victor of the contest. The worker adjusted his bra and tried to think up an action type quip. Seeing this opportunity to intervene Mark rushes forward, attacking the roadworker and grabbing his handbag. The strap strained dangerously as Mark found himself hanging perilously over the hole that was already occupied by Alex. The strap is barely holding, it’s stretching and strraining under the pressure. One of Mark’s high heels crashes to the bottom of the frightening holes. The strap gives way. ‘I wish I was Robin Hood. Then I’d end up on a pile of hay’ he thought before crashing to the bottom. Any doubt that he wasn’t Robin Hood was eliminated when he landed on a packet of nails, the handbag fluttering down beside him.  ‘Tar Tar’ quipped the roadworker in a strong German accent before pouring into the hole a load of tarmac before replacing the cone and getting something to eat. The gap between the two words was a little longer than neccesary. Alex and Mark remained dormant for a minute before emerging out of the hole. A hole being the opposite of a hill. They tried to be positive. ‘We’ve got a free handbag’ Mark celebrated. ‘It might have some wisdom teeth in it!’ ‘I doubt it’ muttered the spoiling force of Alex, damping down his parters firey excitement. The bag was hurridly searched and Mark found something which he hurridly stuffed in his mouth. ‘Told you so’ ‘No...’ Alex kindly pointed out ‘that isn’t teeth. That’s £50,000!!’ The shock made Alex swallow a tenner. Soon loads of legal tender lay in their hands, slightly damp in places and covered in gob. An extensive search of the handbag revealed it was stolen. Nice of the criminal to leave a note pointing that out. Through the contents of the bag they started to piece together the pieces of the puzzle. ‘Let me see’ pondered Mark. He took off his blindfold and dug out an acting union card, toyed with it next to the note saying it was stolen. ‘This handbag belongs to a criminal. It is a criminal handbag. All the stitching is off and mauve and turkey coloured trim, what was he thinking about? It seems the owner of this bag was in the acting union, or pretending to be in the acting union. He’s acting like an actor, but he didn’t get the part. He must be a crap actor. Or an acting actor.’ ‘You’re making no sense’ said Alex. ‘It’s the final monologue, do you want this story to end, or what?’ ‘Yes’ said Alex. It did. h. I demand an explaination