To M.R,

Nothing special about today you know, yet here I am scribblin’ away about the happenings o’ the day for you my sister.

The day was extraordinarily ordinary, regular stuff happenin’ the way it should.

At Ten o’clock sharp in the morn I jostled my way through the dizzy streets and finally reached my destination: my cubby hole in the office (which I had graciously accepted).

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After signing below MACEY in blue bold letters (yes we have a register for cryin’ out loud), I sat down in my rusty chair and started making certain arrangements.

After a few moments, I heard muffl’d voices emanating from the grandiose chamber just in front o’ my humble abode. The ‘show’ as I understood, was ON. It was that good ol’ hag again, his favourite nourishment amongst many others.

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I, on the other hand, work behind the scenes and prefer to relish the magic on stage. He brings people in, shows off his guns n’ whistles whilst I keep ‘em polished and prevent ‘em from gettin’ any wee scratches.

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Okay, the hag is about to leave now, which means it’s my time to look after his needs once again. As soon as the octogenarian was out of earshot, I received his call in a broken voice.

He, ‘Boss’ as people like to call him sat like a duck, drenched in his own tears.

“Not again!” said I and rush’d inside his office to console him.

“How will I pay for all this? The green leather armchair? The electric heating? The bloody wine cellar!?” he whimpered.

“How many times do yea need me to tell yea that I’ll take care of all that? huh?!”  replied I with a reassuring tone.

He picked his turquoise blue tie with shaking hands and said while dabbing gently at his wet bloodshot eyes “It was all for him, all for him” and broke down again while pointing towards a picture of a grim looking boy in a soldier’s uniform.

It was my turn to do something else I would lose him forever, that can’t be good!

So, I went beside him and whispered in his ears “If you are his father, I am his godfather too, you aren’t the only one with responsibilities! Now, do yea want to sacrifice all our efforts down the drain?” Yes, my words were having an effect on him, I could see him clenching his teeth and practising a firm jaw. “Now stop acting like a child and do what you are here for… play the BOSS for god’s sake!”

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No teary-eyed reply came shooting back. He was gone, the ‘Boss’ had finally replaced him for good.

He then gestured me to return to my cubby hole to which I replied with a smirk.

The door chime signalled the arrival of a new client/guest to be taken ‘care’ of. One glance told me it was Katherine, crazy girl, thinks that I am a servant here, well that’s a “win-win” situation for me to be honest. As soon as she entered I gave up the stern demeanour and bade her “good evening” in a very docile voice.

Rumour has it, that the girl writes, god knows if she has written about us as well.

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thepenarchist:

This story was originally intended as prequel/sequel to Katherine Mansfield’s The Fly, which on much introspection I decided to give a stand alone appeal.

 

Image courtesies:

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https://goo.gl/twUqCz

 

 

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