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Monday, 15 April 2019

We’ll Be Open In A Minute!

    Waitress “Do you want breakfast?”
    Prisoner “What? Where......where am I?”
    “This is The Village.”
    “The Village?”
    “I’ll see if the coffee’s ready, you do want coffee?”
    “I don’t know what I want!”
    “Well it’s always a little disorientating on the first morning.”
    “Is it? Is there a police station?”
    “Bless me no sir.”
    “Do you have a telephone?”
   “No sir, but there is a phone box around the corner, don’t you want breakfast then?”
    It was but a few paces to the telephone box.
    “Number please?”
    “Operator I’d like to put a telephone call through to
London.”
    “Where sir?”
    “
London, to British Military Intelligence, MI9.”
    “I’m sorry sir, but I can only put through local calls. What is your number sir?”
    The man looks at the telephone handset.
    “Number, I haven’t got a number!”
    “No number, no call!”
    The man crossed from the telephone box to the map of The Village, not that that told him very much at all. There were the woods, the sea, the caves and cliffs, a tower, a few prominent buildings and that was that. He turned away from the wooden map and began to walk. Perhaps there was a bus stop, or better still a small railway station or halt. Then from behind, there was the sound of a car, he turned, stood in the middle of the road, and waved the vehicle down. The driver, a young woman honked the vehicle’s horn, the man stood to the side of the road to allow the white Mini-Moke to pass, instead it stopped beside him.
    “Where to sir?” the driver asked leaning out of the taxi.
    “You’re a taxi?”
    “No sir, I’m the driver.”
    The man climbed into the front seat “Take me to the railway station.”
    “Railway station, there isn’t one.”
    “Well the nearest town then.”
    “Oh I’m sorry sir, but we’re only the local service.”
    “Well take me as far as you can then.”
    After a roundabout way, down this street, along that street, and back again....twice, the taxi ended up back where the journey started.
    “We’re here sir.”
    “Where...where is this?”
    “The Village, you’ve arrived.”
    “But its where I got in the taxi.”
    “That will be two units.”
    The man got out of the taxi “Units?”
    “Credit units, oh well you can pay me later, be seeing you.”
    The taxi sped away down the street, leaving the Prisoner standing there in the road. It was then that a white membraic thing came rolling and bounding along that road towards him. He was mesmerized by the approaching thing, it roared and emitted a noise, a cross between someone breathing through an aqua lung, the sound of a bicycle pump, and a Gregorian chant filling the air. He turned to run but by then it was much too late, the membranic thing was on him, covering his face with its membrane, smothering him. His fingers clawed at the thing smothering his face, he fought for his breath, he screamed and fell back in an unconscious state.................
    “Darling, what is it darling, not that awful nightmare again!”
    “Oh Deborah, it’s the same dream I’ve been having night after night, it’s terrible!”
    “You must see Doctor Schnipps tomorrow.”
    “I have already, he’s sending me to a place to convalesce.” 

    “Do you want breakfast?”
    “What? Where......where am I?”
    “This is the village.”
    “The village?”
    “I’ll see if the coffee’s ready, you do want coffee?”


Be seeing you

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