Dead Again: Or How I Saved Mankind...now read on
Chapter 2: A disrupted journey to
work, Adrian and his wife’s unfortunate mishap.
The tube had
just pulled out of the station and I started to read the local rag. My eyes
alighted on an inside page headline “Christmas joker gets the sack”. The
article described how an attractive mortgage adviser at a local estate agent
had, as a joke, photocopied her backside. The fetching photograph (of her face)
accompanying the article attested to her attractiveness.
Unfortunately
for her the sophisticated machine e-mailed the facsimile of her bum to about
two hundred prospective house buyers. It also e-mailed her bum to the firm’s
head office in Leeds. About half of the prospective house buyers put in
“realistic offers” for the owner of the bum but that didn’t stop her boss, with
some pressure from head office, having to let her go.
The worker had, I thought ill advisedly, taken
out an unfair dismissal claim. Hence the report in the local rag. I didn’t
think any more of it.
The train
terminated at the next station, “operating difficulties,” we were told by the
driver and we all disembarked onto the platform.
It was then I bumped into the fellow traveller
who I’d seen regularly on the tube.
“Glad to see the service is maintaining its
usual high standard of reliability and punctuality.” My fellow traveller
chirped. I took an instant liking to him – just the sort of comment I’d have
made.
“Yes”, I
said, “I’d wanted to stretch my legs – thoughtful of them wasn’t it.”
We waited on
the platform for about 10 minutes without a hint of when the next train would
arrive. And by then it was getting extremely crowded as more people entered the
station.
“I’m running late as it is.” – My fellow
traveller complained.
“So am I. I was thinking of going to ground
level to see if I could catch a bus – at least I could phone the office and let
them know what has happened.”
“Good idea”, said my companion and we worked
our way through the platform crowd to the exit.
In the
street we both phoned our offices and struck out for the nearest bus stop.
There was a very long queue and when we asked we were told that the last bus
came about 15 minutes ago and it was completely full.
I knew that about 5
minutes walk away there was an over ground station where we could get a train
to King’s Cross. From there we could pick up the underground or a bus.
“I’m Adrian,” my walking companion said.
“And I’m Dave. Nice to meet you – the
station’s only a few minutes away.”
We reached
the station as an almost empty train pulled in.
“What luck” I said as we found ourselves two
seats.
I handed him the local paper while I read “The
Independent”.
“Thanks”, he said as he perused the paper’s headline “We campaign
to get London moving” rang out the overblown headline. “Not much success so
far” he added.
The train
purposefully, if slowly, headed towards our destination and we were each engrossed in our journals.
Then, Adrian took in a sharp breath of air,
followed by an “Oh no!”
“What is
it?” I asked.
He handed me the page he’d been reading. The
headline was “Christmas joker gets the sack”. “That’s my wife! I knew this
would happen if she went to the tribunal.”
Chapter 3: In Dead World again, a
live white Rabbit and an interesting proposition.
“About your wife and the photocopier.” I
continued, “It sorted out your difficulty with her boss didn’t it?”
“I suppose
it did. I hadn’t really thought about it in that way. However, it sets me up
for more trouble in the future.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if
we’re to believe what Fritz told us my wife is the “fit bird” seduced following
the arse searing episode.”….
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