Wednesday, 29 June 2011

Ding dong!

Went the doorbell

Amazingly, it appeared both my front door and the complex mechanism required to work my doorbell had survived the fire unharmed. Stumbling blearily from a bed of broken concrete and burned wood, I walked to the door and peered through the peep-hole. It was a useful new feature I'd had installed in a vague attempt to stop having to talk to door-to-door fools. Of course, it was more useful when you had walls and shit, instead of just a freestanding door...

 Outside was a man dressed in white Khaki, a look completed with safari hat perched on the wearer's head. I shrugged to myself and opened the door.

 "Ah! Good day old sport!" The man began, his voice emanating from somewhere within a giant white moustache. "Nigel Wriggly-Washington, at your service!"

A ferocious beast. Source
 "Excellent." I mumbled unenthusiastically. "And I see your some sort of Victorian explorer or hunter?"

 "Yes old bean, you've hit the nail on the head there! I am a hunter! Not just any hunter, of course, but one specialising in a very dangerous prey!"

 "You hunt fictional Gods?" I asked hopefully (Raiden's getting on my nerves).

 "No, of course not. I serve my King and Country hunting poodles on the Coast of Africa!"

 I nodded.

 "And, of course, I make something on the side selling the finest poodleskins to esteemed gentlemen like yourself sir. Why not buy one sir, makes a great material for making your finery out of! Impress the young lady in your life by buying her a poodle corsage!"

 I nodded sadly. I had no idea what a poodle corsage was, but it didn't sound like something that would impress a young lady.

 "You know poodles are a small, domesticated dog, don't you?"

 "No sir, not the wild African poodle. A dangerous beast sir, 8 foot long with razor-sharp teeth!"

 "Right, ok then." I replied. Then, smugly: "Ok. I believe you. Show me those 'pelts' you've amassed then..."

 Reaching into his satchel, Nigel produced something large and wiry. On closer inspection, I realised it was a scouring pad.

 "Look," I started, "This is a cleaning implement, not an animal skin."

 "You're sure you're not going to fall for any of this?"

 "No." I replied unwittingly.

 "Well, fine then."

 With that, Nigel (it's not his real name, I gather) scoured my face. In the ensuring confusion, he stole both my wallet and my doorbell.

 Overall, it's been a good day.


Lauren said...


Next Nigel might consider hunting the poodle hairdo.

Paul Blanchard said...

Hmm, I have no idea what he had under that hat. And frankly, I don't think I want to know...

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