ELEPHANT NEST: CHAPTER 1.2

After Heather's brains and blood formed the shape of the company’s emblem on the back of Nelson Mandela, she had to leave the room; due to some hobo taking a shit on her car bonnet. (I paid him, three sigs and a can of Fosters.)

Now I’m stuck with the cuck.

A few moments of peace pass between us while I observe my co-workers all sat with screen scorched eyes, their throats wrapped and coiled in that ever so modern day version of slave attire – the head-set wire.

I walk over to the other window and admire the sky-line outside. Julian’s ghostly reflection follows me like a ventriloquist’s doll-head on a stick.

I hold the revolver at my waist, release the cylinder and check each chamber –fully loaded! With one slick, flick of my wrist I whip the cylinder back into place and tuck the weapon under my shirt.

“Contemplating the chances of keeping your job, are we?”

I make eye contact through the glass, “Julie, please. Such things don’t concern me.”  

He rolls his lips, twists them, then “I don’t appreciate you making fun of my name.”

“You weren’t supposed to.”

“Weren’t supposed to what?”

“Appreciate it.”

His lips roll inward, a frustrated expression of trying not to express his frustrated expressions.

… “Hunm.” He bites the tip of his pen, contemplative, “Well, how about Simon? The blandest name nobody would ever think off.”

”Yet, mysteriously many have.”

“It’s a bland name.”

“Life is bland.” I smile, turning around to face him.

“Life is what you make it.”

“You’ll never make it with a name like Julian.”

A bead of resentment trickles down his temple, “I’ve never heard of any Roman Emperors called Simon … have you?”   

“Caesar, got shanked by his own men.”

“He was still an Emperor.”

“Comparing yourself to an Emperor now are we?”

“No- Just, I was.”

“Look … Julius, you’re a pen pushing cuck with a penchant for licking the proverbial ring piece. Hardly the attributes of the leader of an Empire now is it … Julie?”

“My name … is Julian.” He declares, calmly. But his face has gone balloon red.

I can see Heather approaching from across the main floor, she stops to speak to some clone that I’ve never noticed before.

“Hunm, Julian …” I muse, “Julian being the kind of name you would give to a girl.”

“What?”

“Except you wouldn’t, you’d just call her Joo-lee!” I sing as Heather enters. Like a useless fart, the red balloon deflates.

“Sorry about that, wasn’t too long was I?”

“Oh, no Heather.” I say, my arms open emphatically, “Not at all. Me and Jules here were just, err - bonding.”

Julian, scribbles in his little pad, again. (13:50 Greenwich Meantime, Simon, accused me of being a Scat-muncher.)

Heather, sits down and that Tarantula motions for me to return to my seat. I comply.

“Everything okay, Heather?” I ask.

“Fine. Just a bit of erm, car trouble, that’s all ... Now, were where we- ah! Lateness- no, no, absence! Absence, absence, absence.

That purposeful silent moment, again…

“So, reason for absence last week?” She runs her tongue behind her lip and that millipede ripples.

“Migraine.” I answer.

“And the one before that?”

“Throat infection.”

“Right. And the one before that?”

“Migraine.” I answer.

“And the month bef- No, no. Don’t tell me, Throat infection?”

“No, that one was the shits.”

Dhrup … Dhrup … A pin drops an Owl blinks

“Pardon me Heather. What I meant to say, is that I had an irritating bowel,” I glance at Julian, “On that particular day.”

Heather sighs, “Okay … Simon. I am going to be a little more, shall we say … plain speaking?” She takes a sip of water, calmly places the glass back, “If you think, for one moment, that I am going to sit here and listen to this -shit, you are sadly, sadly mistaken.”

Presumably unnerved by Heathers colourful language, Julian’s bozz-eyed-eyeballs almost re-align as he shifts nervously in his seat.

“Now.” Heather, begrudgingly continues, “You are going to di-vulge and we are going to di-sssect! each and every absence … Are we clear?”

It’s going to be a long day.

“It’s going to be a long day, Heather.”

“Oh, do shut up, Julian.”

His smurky smile flatlines ... Mine grows.

“So?” Heather, perking a brow.

“Where shall I begin?” I ask.

“At the beginning of course.”

“At the beginning of what?”

“The beginning of your absences.”

“From the beginning of this month?”

“No.”

“The beginning of last month?”

“No, from the beginning of your absences.”

“Yeah, but from which month?”

“Which ever month they first began!”

“So, not last month or-“

No!” The tarantula scratches the table. ” I am talking about your first absence.”

“But, from when? “

Her hands clench knuckle white.

“From the very first absence you have had!”

“Hev, my love. I’m confused.”

She checks herself, her fists unfurl the millipede rests, calm. “Okay … Sssimon. Not from the start of this month.” She fingers me before I can speak, “And not from the month previous, but from the very first absence you. Have. Had ... Clear?”

“The very first absence I have ever had?”

“Egg-zactly!” She, condescendingly beams.

“Well.” I’ll wipe that smile off her face, “My first legally paid job was when I was sixteen, it was an egg factory, had some good laughs: egg fights and such ‘n’ such. Before that I worked on a chicken farm, but, can’t class it as my first job as it wasn’t on the books so- you swallow what I’m spurting, right? Anyhoo, I’m getting side-tracked, my first ever sick was when I had two days off in the summer of ’98 If I recall corr …”

 

The last thing I remember is the millipede zigzagging in frustration, her nostrils flaring, her fists banging on the desk one after the other like King-fucking-Kong, her mouth gaping, tears of frustration, Julian placing a supportive hand on her shoulder and Heather placing a supportive elbow in his face.

Not a shot fired.

Result!

Heather was given a suspension, pending an investigation (and some Valium) Julian was taken to the emergency room, pending an examination of his eye-balls, and I was suspended until further notice, pending the aforementioned investigation on whether or not Julian’s shoulder grip was the first physical assault or that tremendous elbow!

As I strolled heroically down the call centre floor my fellow clones began randomly popping up from behind their computers, giving me the customary “nod” of the head in appreciation of my accomplishment.

(Note: Suspension = full pay!)