For audio click here (I've had reports of people not being able to access the audio, can you let me know if you are having similar problems.)
The last thing you expect to see in a toilet cubical is
another door, but that’s exactly what Curtis was staring at as he was sitting there
‘relaxing’ after his Monday morning coffee. He guessed it was just a door into
a store cupboard, he assumed it was locked, he hoped that no one would come
through it while he was in such a vulnerable position; it was strange but it
was harmless. Or was it? He imagined what he would do if the door opened now
while he was sitting there with his trousers around his ankles. He wondered who
would be more embarrassed him or the person coming through the door. Maybe it
would be a beautiful woman, they could fall in love and get married and laugh
at how they’d first met. He smiled to himself at the ridiculousness of his
thoughts and then returned his attention to the business in hand.
Curtis had walked passed this Anonymous café near I.P.
Pavlova 100 times on his way to McDonalds. It had never looked like his kind of
place, it was too young, too trendy, and with the ugly ‘Anonymous’ mask as a
sign, it was too off-putting; better to have a coffee and maybe a McMuffin in
McDs and then cross the road to work and have his ‘relax’ on work time.
But this morning for some unknown reason he was tempted in
to this fashionable café for his morning caffeine hit. The place had amused
him, they had a range of superhero mugs and asked him what mug he would like
his coffee in, he’d chosen the Spiderman mug. There was a swing in the middle
of the room and the staff were taking it in turns throwing toy darts at the
wall; it wasn’t your usual café and it really wasn’t his cup of tea but the
coffee was good and it felt fresher than McDonalds. Curtis didn’t know why but
his need for a ‘relax’ had struck immediately he’d drained his cup, there was
no time to cross the road to work. So here he was sitting in the café toilet
staring at this strange door feeling grumpy; he hated ‘relaxing’ on his own
time when he could do it ‘on the clock’ in work.
It wasn’t that he hated work, he quite enjoyed it and he was
good at his job, but like anyone who works for the man, he was adept at finding ways to make sure he made the most of
his employers. For example, he tried to make sure he went to the toilet on work
time, he charged all his mobile devices in work sockets and he sometimes
wandered home with work pens, paper and tea bags in his pockets.
Curtis stood up and pulled his trousers up, he was just
buckling his belt when, he jumped a mile, there was someone trying to get out
of the second door. Curtis flushed the toilet quickly suddenly embarrassed by
his detritus. Then he tried to unlock the toilet door, but it was jammed, he
couldn’t do it. The more he tried the fatter his fingers felt.
The second door swung open and there stood a man in a
grotesque Anonymous mask. Curtis was sweating, he felt weak, he tried again to
open the door but it was impossible.
‘What do you want?’ He said backing away from the figure.
‘Curtis Redmond,’ the voice was contorted, ‘don’t be afraid,’
that was easier said than done when a masked man with a strange voice had just
walked in on you taking a dump; had he not just been, Curtis would be shitting
himself. ‘Come with me.’ The man said. Curtis
should have wondered how they knew his name, he should have wondered where the
passage led, but all he could say was.
‘I haven’t washed my hands.’
‘There’ll be time for that,’ the man said. ‘Now come.’
"I haven't washed my hands." :)
ReplyDelete