By Andrew Lines
The office building seemed normal enough, but I didn’t know why I was there in the middle of the night.
I couldn’t see a receptionist behind the desk, but Paloma Faith was standing on a table, and she was completely naked. “Hello, Andy,” she said. “Did you bring a cup of tea for Bally’s microwave?”
“Yes,” I replied. “But now I’ve seen you something else has come up!”
“Sorry, Andy. I’m too busy at the moment. If you look over there, you’ll see one green door and one orange door. If you’d like to know what’s behind the green door, you could ask Shaking Stevens. If you’d like to know what’s behind the orange door, you could follow me.”
“I’ll follow you.”
“You should take your time, Andy, and think about it for a few minutes.”
“I’ll follow you, Paloma.”
“Okay, but I should warn you, I don’t have time to get dressed; I’m too busy.”
I followed her through the orange door and saw Vic and Bob, buzzing around like a pair of bumble bees. Emma Peel was wearing a skin-tight leather suit, and refilling the vending machine with soiled knickers.
“I didn’t have time to wash them,” Paloma said. “I was too busy.”
She led me to the library, and there was a writing group holding a meeting. Nicole handed a newspaper to me, and the league tables were on the back page. Albion was top of the Premiership. Jackie snatched the newspaper from me and slapped the back of my head. “Read the front page, you idiot,” she shouted.
I read the headline: “World War Two Anthology Enters the Best Sellers List”.
©Andrew Lines 2016