I work in a sinister, sinister town. It is the kind of place where you can imagine people disappearing one by one and then returning with mad, staring eyes and strange marks on the back of their neck, every so often doing peculiar things, because they were told to by the teller-in-chief.
It’s like a cross between a ghost town and the town that The Prisoner was set in. Not seen any massive white balls flying about the place – but you never know – on a windy day, if I bring my space hopper down here – I think it would be relatively simple to recreate the scene (plus, it would give me a handy excuse for not having to go to my “ball class” again. My stomach hurts from the last class – which surely means that I will be thin by this time tomorrow (when it will hopefully have stopped hurting)?).
There is nowt here other than a supermarket – which in itself is slightly sinister – it’s the only place you ever see anyone outside of office hours – and it’s always packed (where do they go once they have finished shopping? – Maybe it’s like the Hotel California of supermarkets – Supermarket California – and they are just waiting for me to drop my guard and then BAM, just like that, I’m stuck in there. For EVER). Actually, to be fair to the town, they have just opened and Indian and a pub – but brand spanking new Indians and pubs are surely only a fairy step away from ghost townsville?
Oh, and there is a chippy, which I am yet to try (impressed? I am – it’s right by the gate to our offices and VERY difficult to resist in the evenings – however I manage by telling myself that after the 35 minute drive home, the chips will be cold…)
Right, anyway, the teller-in-chief says I should get back to work, so must go. If you don’t hear from me again, it may be because I have to go to Supermarket California at lunch time. Every time I go in there it could be the last time I come out…
p.s. sorry for my use of the americanism “bam” – I couldn’t think of an alternative, suitable word.
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