Never a crossword

First Day

"Here you are Jacky, here's your desk and if the seats ever warm your
not working hard enough. I expect to see your face once a week when you
hand in your piece and if you're not out researching your hilarious yet
insightful column you wont be in this office for long, do you
understand me?"

"Yep, sure?"

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good. Your deadline's Friday 9am; forty column inches and a
photo."

He walked off and his swagger suddenly looked tacky and overdone, this
man had been brought up on Citizen Kane and Perry White; I couldn't be
sure whether behind closed doors he was the same man he was out here
with us hacks. I laid my case on the floor, pushed the switch on the
computer and slumped in the chair. I spun absent-mindedly on my chair,
the screen flashed finding files and memory, as I cast my eyes over my
new colleagues. I caught no-ones attention and so began to explore
the
drawers in front of me; top drawer: empty, the second was the same and
the bottom had only a few scrabble letters and a well-thumbed (and
noted?) dictionary. I was fingering the tiles as I loaded up "Word"
when I felt a face over my shoulder:

"You must be a dedicated writer,"

"Huh?"

"Everyone else spends their first few hours on the computers searching
for games or "wasting company time and money" on the net."

"Oh sure, yeah. I'm not good on these things all I can do is
type."

"The last guy here didn't even have a PC. Still doesn't in fact, they
shipped him downstairs upon your arrival."

"These are his scrabble pieces?"

"Correct, ten points to that man if he can add up why a newspaper man
with no computer would need said tiles?"

"??"

"Crosswords, jeez I thought you were some hot shot new guy, not some
baby on his first gig. No wonder Tony was so pissed."

I was half annoyed and half embarrassed I wasn't just some baby I had
worked and worked hard becoming a reporter on the local "rag". My big
break and ticket to here had come when I was first to break the fact
that a local vandal had been responsible for the arson of a derelict
estate. It was no big story but I had been on the street and it was all
my own work. Just because I didn't realise crossword makers used
scrabble pieces to arrange their clues, in fact I wasn't entirely sure
that this Tony wasn't
alone in his practices, however I left it.

"You mean they just kicked him out for me?"

"Yep you had better be worth it, Tony knew some good gags. Good guy.
Now make like 'Ed' said."

He turned away and I began to make anagrams with my inherited tiles as
I considered what to focus on.

Local Time

It was a wet Wednesday afternoon, all I had to do was survive 'till
tomorrow at which point I could return home, home where I had no
bedside table, no imposed neatness forced by the brevity of my stay and
impending departure. I had walked the small town many times in the past
week, I had almost finished the one book I had brought and had
exhausted the research I needed to do. This weeks piece would not win
me my pulitzer prize. My train was tomorrow, tomorrow I would return to
my life and not be an observer of others. But right at that
moment I was still in limbo and decided that I would explore the
possibilities of a local tavern.
"The Swallow"; it was a small establishment hidden in a courtyard
behind a row of terraced
houses, as if it was being hidden by the residents, from the residents,
who did by the look of the exterior ritually ignore the place. Inside
the pub a darkness was imposed which the outside world would soon
attain. The room felt smoky though I could see no smokers, nor could I
see anyone except the proprietor. Lit from the side, his reading
glasses were edging their way ever closer to the folded paper beside
him. I approached him in a way I hoped would indicate my presence to
him, and surely
enough his head rose and he looked at me then at the bar. Following his
glance I saw another head rise up clutching a bag of crisps in his
mouth, a pint in one hand and a pen in the other.

"Serve this young gentleman will you Steven;"

"Sure thing. What can I get you?"

A quick glance around the pumps indicated that the cheapest choice and
most accepted would be the "Swallow This" ale;

"Good choice,"

This phrase was clearly intended to be the end of our conversation and
I focused my attention on watching the swirls of the pouring beer. They
took on an almost hypnotic form and for what seemed like an age my
pupils rolled following swirl after swirl, mixing and mellowing until
finally they formed an almost mystic pint. The cacophony of colours
that had been now formed a stark contrast of dark and light, which
possessed a frightening clarity.
With no sign of overflow the drink was placed in front of me and I
asked absently not removing my gaze from the glass:

"How much do I owe you?"

Steven was about to speak when he glanced at the proprietor who looked
me up and down and nodded,

"If you like you can have it for free if you can solve the last clue of
this crossword."

I felt obliged to try the pint first and having done so I looked at the
impression of my lip in the head and motioned to look at the
paper.
Dark, faded and tea stained, the paper looked old, yet the crossword
felt like its whiteness could sting my dark adjusted eyes. One clue was
left, circled and re-circled it stood arrogantly amongst the
others.

"A new arrival causes loss of desk, perhaps." (8 letters).

I sipped my pint and pondered, I had the time it took me to drink this
pint to solve the puzzle and I felt it was entirely possible. Steven
refused to look, and the landlord seemed content that I take his place
craning over his puzzle.
It strikes me sometimes that time is a strange thing, perhaps Einstein
found out a truth more than scientific when he said that it is relative
for it seems that I should have drunk more of this pint yet the perfect
head with my lip in it remains two thirds of the way up. It is no
matter though, soon enough I'll have this puzzle cracked and it will be
a free pint, and a good pint too.

Obits

We are sad to announce today the death of one of the papers longest
serving employees. For thirty years Anthony J Oar, known to friends and
colleagues as Tony, compiled the popular crosswords contained at the
back of each issue. He was found slumped apparently asleep at his desk
the last solution of his next puzzle filled in. In his memory we have
for the first time included one solution to today's puzzle, Tony's last
solution, for which we found no clue:
VENGANCE.