Friday, June 08, 2007


Bluff (210)

“Mr Waterman?” The voice came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Harold looked all around the room before replying even – knowing the habits of gremlins – behing the salt cellar.

“Yes?” he said, his gaze fixed, for want of anything better, upon the light bulb.

“Your time is up. Will you come quietly, or should I arrange a nasty – and painful – accident?”

Harold frowned. “I thought I’d sorted this out yesterday?” he said. “You’re looking at the old paperwork without cross-referencing it to the new files on the server at the Dis Bureau of Records.”

“Er… new files?” The voice had lost its self-assurance.

“That’s right. I have another three to four hundred years yet.”

“Bugger.” There was the sound of something being crossed out. “I wish people would send up form 335/R/DOD revised.”

Harold relaxed and allowed himself a smile. “I sent a 335/PD personally.”

“Did you? It must still be in my in-box.”

“Who are you?” Harold asked the light bulb, but there was no reply. Just a drop of ink on the kitchen floor that slowly faded.

Jasfoup was standing in the doorway. “What is a 335-forward-slash-pee-dee?” he asked.

Harold grinned. “I’ve absolutely no idea,” he said. “I made it up.”

© Rachel Green 2007

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