Scene 3: The Badgers threaten.


Cue some jazzy intro music. Perhaps – no, definitely – a saxophone solo. And some maracas. Yes…that’s about right. Actually, the maracas are rubbish. Lose the maracas. Marimba? Surprisingly nice.

Mood funky – check, panning camera panning – check. Fade into…

mannekenpis-brussels-belgium-filipfuxa-shutterstock_39608626-600…The man sits at the desk, staring at the piece of paper in front of him, anguish writ large upon his face. Suddenly he wonders why he has started the scene in the third person.

Irritated, he gives a terse shake of his head. That should sort it, he thinks.

I stood up, crumpling the paper angrily, and threw it with the abandon of an overtly sensual basketball player throwing a ball whilst dead. It missed the basket.

I paced, my mind a whirl, or a whorl or something.

The paper I had discarded had printed upon it (with some sort of typeface and ink magic) a telegram. It said the following:

Sir stop Sir Kenneth Badger is dead stop Now we will have our revenge upon you stop

I’d known Sir Kenneth for thirty years. His death had shaken me to my rabid and infertile core. And on top of that, suddenly they were after me.

If I’d been any sort of a man I would have thrust out my chin, found some cloth and girded my loins, then stood with my noble feet apart and a grisly look in my eyes.

But I wasn’t just any sort of man. I was the man who brought the world to it’s knees after the interview of the century. Sigh…THE INTERVIEW OF THE CENTURY. So long ago it haunts me yet. With Kenneth’s passing I was the only one left who could stop the inevitable. But I was old. So old.

But age changed nothing. I needed to save Belgium or the world would end and it’d be my fault. And the Badgers were after me.

Cue pause for melodramatic sting and fade to a justly vapid green.

 

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13 Comments

      1. Feeling French today, eh? 😉 I suppose that could come in handy with the writing…(I was gong to say something about you being a smart a**/show-off, but I thought that might offend you 😉 I’m good, just working on a blog post/writing ANYTHING, just to say I did. 😉 How’s the writing going for you?

      2. It wouldn’t offend me, because I am a smart-arse. And it’s arse, not ass…an ass is a donkey. You yanks, huh?! Frankly, the writing is not going too well. I have finished part one, and part two just needs starting. Then I’ll get back in the saddle, so to speak. But I am plagued with doubt, probably justifiably. Hey ho, it will be fine… I will do some tonight and hope the present funk evaporates. I will try to read your blog entry when it appears, but I am not suited to long posts (and yours count as long in my mind). I prefer pithy. Can you make it pithy please!?

      3. You Brits, always splitting hares…I did that on purpose – just to irate you. 😉 Sorry to hear you’re being ‘plagued’. At least you make it sound interesting. I don’t really expect you to read my blog…I’m frankly surprised that anyone reads it at all! I’m just practicing my writing, talking to my kids, etc. I don’t understand why people keep coming back. 🙂 It’s like reading a boring person’s diary…I DO appreciate readers and comments, but I don’t expect it. I think ‘pithy’ is more YOUR personality and forte! I’m not sure what mine is…

      4. I never know if you’re messing with me or not…but I’ll just go with I’m sorry you’re sick. 🙂 Woman-flu must be pregnancy, then…and that lasts nine long months…I hope you feel better sooner than that. 😉

      5. If in doubt assume I’m messing with you. Women flu is just normal flu but they seem to think men are wimps about it when they just ‘battle through it’. Lies. Feminine propaganda.

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