stories

Short fiction #7

Thu, 20 Jun 2013 13:41:12 +0100

Jane looked at the old lady in contempt.
She really was the most infuriating person she knew, apart from her own mother, and she was bad enough. Most days it was all she could do to smile when she saw her. But honestly, his mother was the pits. She was all smiles whenever Derek was around but he didn't hear the bitchiness in her voice when she asked if she could help. Jane knew what she meant by help. It was her way of saying that she wasn't bringing up her daughter the same way that Shirley had brought up her precious son. Well damn well no, it wasn't, and it wouldn't be while Jane had breath in her body. Look where that had got her. It had taken her years to knock him into submission, but he knew where his place was now, that's for sure. No more running off to mummy just because she had a concussion, his place was at home, taking Jessica for her piano lessons when Jane had an appointment at the hairdressers.

She'd caught him more than once throwing longing glances at his golf bag but he knew there wasn't time for that, or money. How could he think membership of the golf club was better value than the family gym membership? If only he used his more, like her. She was getting totally toned since she had hired Antonio as her personal trainer. She loved going to the gym now, it gave her such a buzz, and Jessica was becoming quite a fan too. If only Derek would see the sense of it...

Oh god, here she goes again, she thought, more of the baby pictures coming out. Why does she want to give them to me? I don't want all that scruffy stuff, well, it can go in the garage if I must, on the shelf above his golf bag. Is this torture nearly over yet? Every year we have to do this, just because it's her birthday we must visit he says. It's only right, he says. God, if I'd known I'd have to be this attentive I'd never have got her to mind Jessica while I went to work. Surely she should be glad she got to spend time with her granddaughter? Not many grans get the chance to spend three days a week with their grandchildren but was she grateful? Not so much as a thank you did I get, and she was forever ringing me up to tell me how she was doing. As if I needed to know that before a team meeting.

Shirley sighed as she turned away from her daughter in law. She really was the most exasperating person she had ever known and if she hadn't been married to her son Shirley would gladly pass her on the street without a word. But she had to try, for Derek's sake, and Jessica's. Without Jane there would be no contact at all and both women knew it. Derek wouldn't dare come to see her without Jane's permission.

Shirley made polite enquiry after Jane's mother, another hard to like woman very much like her daughter. Jane's response was non committal, a vague alright. Shirley suspected that Jane hadn't seen her recently and she momentarily felt sorry for the woman. Jane didn't seem to care that her mother was lonely. Not her problem, she would say. Shirley wondered if Jane realised that if she carried on that her life would be the same, with a daughter who was too selfish to care for her. If only she would try a little, just relax and be nice. It didn't take a lot once you got into it.

Derek returned into the lounge, wiping his hands on the towel and Shirley blinked as Jane shot up out of her seat, spilling the photos onto the carpet in her haste to leave. Derek scrambled to pick them up, with a speed that suggested an instinctive need to avoid trouble, or from a wish to prevent his childhood being trampled underfoot. Within minutes they had their coats on and Shirley got a perfunctory kiss on the cheek from Jessica, who had barely stirred from her mother's side all afternoon. Jane was at the car before she had called out her goodbye, keys in her hand to make a fast getaway. Sadly Shirley hugged her son as he sheepishly made to follow his wife. As she hugged him she whispered in his ear.

'I love you son but I wish you'd grow a pair of balls.'

Short fiction #6

Thu, 13 Jun 2013 12:37:15 +0100

Pain

The pain seared through his leg and seemed to connect with every receptor in his body. His leg felt on fire and his brain was telling him to run as far away as possible from this torture but he gripped onto the chair, his fingernails digging into the upholstery as his knuckles glistened white. Everyone was watching him, he mustn't crack, he told himself sternly. It had to be done. As the next wave of pain swept over him he couldn't help himself and he cried out in anguish.

'Ye gods, when is it going to stop? Please, make that the last one, for pity's sake. No more, no more, I can't take it.'

Cheryl glared at him.

'Oh do shut up, you wimp,' she scorned. 'You think this is pain? You men, you make me sick with all your bravado, your posturing. When it comes down to it, you're just mummy's boys, the lot of you. A woman wouldn't cry like you.'

He rubbed his exposed shin as she worked on his other leg.

'Not many women have got as much hair as me,' he replied as the hot wax slipped onto his hairy shin.

'It still hurts,' she snapped, viciously removing another strip of wax and hair.

Paul bit his lip, refusing to buckle in front of the pub's customers who were already laughing at his discomfort. He made a mental vow that this was the last charity challenge he would do that involved personal, physical pain. Next time he was going to run a kid's guess-the-sweets-in-a-jar competition, or dress up in a costume, something painless and fun. After the head shave and the marathon, this was the final insult and was a step too far. How did women do this all the time he wondered, wincing as the final strip of wax was removed. Cheryl stood up and waved the hairy strip ceremonially in the air, to a round of applause and cat calls from the crowd. Paul bowed his head and surreptitiously wiped a tear away.

'Thank you, thank you, everyone,' he said, limping from the chair, trying to keep his trouser legs rolled up. He wanted the cold air on his legs until he could get behind the bar and grab some ice. 'Just remember to pay up as soon as you like. After that pain I'm not letting anyone get away without paying.'

Behind the bar were a row of certificates for all the funds raised by his staff for their charity and despite the pain Paul felt a swell of pride. He had a good bunch working for him and together they were on target to be the best pub in the group, an honour which brought its own reward of a weekend away for everyone at the premiere hotel of the group, a five star historic Inn by a beautiful beach in Dorset. As his legs cooled his smile returned. Maybe it hadn't been that bad after

Call Centre Carnage Chapter 5

Sun, 09 Jun 2013 16:19:25 +0100

I'm not sure about this chapter so would be interested to hear some comments. I've a feeling it will get cut from the final novel.

CHAPTER FIVE

X rated

After the break they split up into different rooms. Jessie took the girls group upstairs to the video training department where she managed to get them the recording equipment they needed to make the film. Jo busied herself with the second group, determined to knock them into some kind of shape. As they left the room Matt overheard her offering herself fof the role of lead singer in their video, on the grounds that she had been through a course of voice training for her videos. He felt relieved that they didn't have her on their case but as he looked at the simpering Marilyn beaming at his group his spirits sank. He could just tell that she had no more idea of how to make a successful video than she did of knitting fog. And on top of that they had no script, one lecherous would-be drunk, a precious scriptwriter, a murderous goth and a simpering maiden. He looked at Jamie for support but he seemed to have gone into a deep sulk, gazing out of the door after Jo.

Matt couldn't believe this boy was so blind as to not see her for what she was. How could he have the hots for someone who would never be interested in him? Not without some serious gender realignment surgery, anyway. Still, he was at the age when everything was a sexual encounter, or a stimulating event. Jamie had obviously chosen a seat well out of range of the fluff on the front row. If he'd been sitting there one of them would either have sued him for harassment or made fun of him by now.

Marilyn nervously flicked her hair over both shoulders and turned to the team, looking keen to help, rather like an elderly aunt trying to help a young niece on something she didn't know know.

'So,' she said, rather too brightly. 'I believe we've got a Viking ship in this video? That's a brilliant connection to a piece of local heritage, you know. I don't know if you're aware of it but his area was named after a Viking, a Harald the Red. The clue is in the town name. The Harald was shortened to 'Ald' and 'thwaite' means clearing. So we get Aldsthwaite, Harald's clearing.' Flick, flick.

She smiled happily around the group, pleased with herself to have imparted this knowledge. Her love of family history research had come in useful at last.

'Yeah,' added Krystal darkly, 'but they're all dead Vikings now, aren't they?'

'Ha ha ha,' laughed Marilyn nervously, flicking her hair twice, even though the second time there was no hair to flick. 'Now if we could borrow an artefact from the Jorvik museum over in York, that would give us a touch of authenticity, don't you think?'

She smiled around the group, mostly slumped in various poses of lethargy or disinterest. Krystal pounced on the lead.

'Oh yeah!'

She was so enthusiastic that everyone sat up in surprise.

'Don't you think we should go there to check out our facts, Marilyn? We want our film to have some "authenticity", don't we? That would really impress John and might make him choose our film.'

They watched for Marilyn's reaction. Any mention of John always brought a rush of blood to Marilyn's face and the group watched as her expression contorted from longing to anxiety and back to longing again. Matt decided to give her another push.

'Yeah, isn't that where John is from originally? If we could find a link to his ancestors he might be really pleased that we made the extra effort. And it would be fantastic research and may even give the marketing department a real help with their campaign anyway. He can't fail but notice us'

That was all the incentive that Marilyn needed. Her whole life was geared to having John notice her like he used to do in the old days. It had all been so simple then, just the two of them and a room lined with vegetable racks. Of course the racks had not been there for vegetables, John had found a much more lucrative product to sell, albeit in plain brown wrappers. Inside each rack had been a range of colourful products, usually in lurid shades of pink, or black, apart from the oversized dildos which came in a range of skin tones.

It had been a bit of a shock to Marilyn's delicate nature when she had answered John's advert for a despatch clerk. '"Must be broad minded", the advert had said. She had never guessed that it would be for a sex toys' business until she walked through the door into the ten foot square room to be faced by the wall of racks, each basket spilling out their contents of the brightly coloured items. It had taken her several seconds to gather herself and notice John observing her from a tiny corner of the room.

Immediately smitten by John, she had taken the job. Her desk had been a small shelf fixed into a chimney alcove. Her chair had almost touched his. There had certainly been times when she had looked up to find him watching her, or heard him breathing heavily behind her. Within a week he had given her the key to the office and told her to run the office on her own. Her day had consisted of processing credit card payments and packing bundles of products into a selection of padded bags for posting. John wasn't keen on paying any more postage than he needed to and had told her to squeeze in as much as she could into smaller envelopes. The oversized dildos had always been a struggle to get into even the biggest size of envelope. She had barely been able to stick the flaps down, especially if the customer had ordered a selection of other items as well.

She returned from her daydream to see the group looking at her expectantly. Instinctively she flicked her hair.

'Okay, where were we? Oh yes, York. Why not? It will be great to show John, and everyone else, that we can produce something great,' she said nodding her head as though to convince herself, causing her hair to fall forwards again, followed immediately by flick, flick. 'And it will give the video a little more gravitas than they'd expect. But maybe not everyone. I think I can arrange for myself and one or two others to take a visit. We can go in my car as it's not far, but you may have to pay for your own entry into the centre.'

A chorus of disapproval rose from the group, apart from Matt and Jamie who didn't have the slightest interest in sitting with the hair flick all day. After a bit of skilful negotiating from Marilyn it was decided that Pat and Mina would go. Marilyn clearly wasn't keen to have either Don or Krystal in her car or in her company for any longer than she needed. Krystal, thwarted from having the skive she had wanted, went into a deep sulk, and Don, continually insisting on trying the different drinks available for the scene, only in the interests of authenticity of course, was deflected by the suggestion that he should be putting his energies into finding sponsorship.

Pat explained her 'wonderful' idea to Marilyn as Matt became increasingly frustrated that she didn't try to stop the dark and stormy night scenario. The two of them got quite carried away with their plans but still no one had written a real script, he noticed.

'So how d'you suggest we film this then?' His voice sounded harsher than he had intended but he was at the end of his patience over the whole exercise. The more they went on about it the less he wanted to be part of it. They stopped talking and stared at him.

'I mean,' he continued, 'okay, it's winter but we can't guarantee a storm on whatever day we decide to film this.'

'And on a technical note,' added Jamie, 'my camera is only a webcam so filming anything on fire in poor light probably won't come out. The light from a fire will alter the settings and probably just cause a blur so you won't see anything.'

'Details, details, Jamie,' smiled Marilyn, shaking her finger at him. 'I'm sure we can trust you clever boys to come up with something. That's part of the point of the exercise, you know, so that you learn something about the process in order to appreciate the finished product.'

'Well couldn't we just go upstairs and work with the people who are doing it professionally then?'

Matt couldn’t contain his frustration with the company's amateur approach to a piece of work that people studied for years to do right, and then usually just for a tiny part of it, and not the whole creative and practical process. He struggled to see how the video making would teach them anything about the business apart from how inept and lazy the management were, looking for any shortcut wheezes they could find to save themselves some work.

Nobody else seemed to have spotted it, apart from maybe Joanne who, with three kids, could recognise when something was a long way round to a straight answer. Matt wished he had been working with her and not the random bunch of oddballs he had the unfortunate accident of sitting next to when they dished out the project. He felt sure that a few of the trainees, with the right mix of talents, could produce something worth putting on a shopping channel, rather than the trilogy of mush that was going to result from this shambles.

He wondered what the company expected to gain from the exercise. Was it to see if they could work as a team? Or was it just a time wasting exercise to see who had the patience and perseverance to get through it. Right now he felt like throwing in the towel. If it wasn't for all those debts...

Marilyn was bristling with impatience now.

'Oh come now, Matt,' she exhorted, 'that's not the attitude we're looking for here at Pickering Picks. A clever young man like you, I'm sure you can find a way to overcome the hurdles. We expect our new staff to come forward with their own ideas, don't forget. Surely you can come up with something positive. Pat here has contributed an imaginative idea and now you're team has an opportunity to find with an original solution. What if Steve Jobs had refused to believe things could be different? There would be no massive corporation making billions of dollars from a totally new product. A clever boy like you could be the next Steve Jobs. You'll never know unless you try now, will you?' Flick, flick.

Matt blinked in surprise at the force of Marilyn's pep talk and wondered what it was she thought he was capable of.

Short fiction #5

Wed, 05 Jun 2013 21:51:22 +0100

Office politics

Here they come again. John really should check his appearance before he comes in to work in the morning. He's got dried egg on his tie today, Paul is going to give him stick for that, he always does. He thinks he's the office funny man although he's anything but. Even I can spot his jokes coming a mile off. And Jan thinks he's so stupid, I can tell. The way she rolls her eyes every time he opens his mouth, you'd think he'd have noticed by now but if he has, he takes no notice. I suppose he thinks that any attention is worth having. He'll never spot that she's having a relationship with Peter, the quiet one who always sits at the back. Of course he doesn't have to compete with the younger men, he's already caught the office glamour girl, but he treats her horribly. It beats me what she sees in him. I'd call him ugly myself, but it takes all sorts.

Now we're in business. Here's Steve to whip them into shape. Okay, business begins. This is where I watch their faces. They're so funny, some of them. The young guys doing their best to impress, the girls batting their eyelashes, all apart from Sarah. She's very intense, determined to prove she's as good as the guys. I love the way she nudges her glasses up her nose when she's getting excited. And I hope Damien gets a chance to show what he can do without fluffing it as usual. He has some really good ideas but nobody takes any notice of him, poor lad. From what I've seen of the talent that comes in and out of this meeting room, he's better than most. He definitely has the brains if not the style. Although I have got to say that it seems to be cheek rather than brains that gets you on in this company. Steve is only the boss because he married his secretary, who just handily happened to be JP's daughter. Mind you, if Steve had heard what JP thought of him he might have thought twice. But now they're looking for JP's successor Steve thinks it's going to be him. If only I could tell him what I heard when the board met in here the other day. The words 'snowball' and 'hell' were bandied about a lot in relation to him. Like I said, cheek can get you a long way inthis company but only so far. After that you've got to come up with the goods or they're ruthless, they'll prune you down to nothing. Like that girl that comes in to water plants. She's a bit heavy handed if you ask me, I didn't like how roughly she cleaned my leaves this week, and I hope she didn't mean it when she talked about clearing out the deadwood. Not that I can do much, I'm only the plant in the corner of the office.

Call Centre Carnage Chapter 4

Sun, 02 Jun 2013 20:25:44 +0100

CHAPTER FOUR

Imagination

The lunch passed in a blur of mad ideas, getting madder with every drink, but back in the training room they managed to agree that their video would be set in a lounge, that Pat would write a five minute screenplay over the weekend, ready to rehearse on Monday and the roles they would each play. They left work knowing which was their individual task, to gather props, source equipment or arrange fundraising. During his weekend Matt, as director, worked out how to shoot the video and drew up a storyboard of camera shots. He envisioned a retro living room brought to life by the addition of the wine cart, with Don dressed up in an old fashioned smoking jacket, maybe even a handlebar moustache. It absorbed him so much that it was a bad weekend for his game. His best score was beaten by Drew on Saturday night and he spent the entire Sunday trying to overcome it.

On Monday morning he waited anxiously for the others to arrive in the training room. They soon drifted in, apart from Krystal of course, and took their places along the row with a mumbled 'morning'. Pat was last to arrive and she looked far from happy. She slapped her notepad down on the desk.

'I couldn't do anything with that idea we had on Friday,' she exclaimed, 'so I changed it to something far more exciting.'

The group looked at each other in disbelief, after all their work combining ideas on Friday. They all stared at Pat, waiting to see what exciting idea she had come up with.

'I'm sure you'll like it,' she began. 'It's a really good scene, although I haven't written much of an actual script.'

Before she could go any further Krystal arrived and slumped into her seat.

'What's going on? Did I miss anything?'

She looked from Matt to Mina for an answer.

Matt shook his head but Don spoke first.

'No, not much,' said Don, his voice bristling with hostility. 'Pat was just about to tell us her brilliant new idea that is so much better than the one we decided on last Friday.'

'Look,' snapped Pat, ' It was my job to come up with something and nobody else wanted to do it did they?' Before anyone could speak she continued. 'Anyway, we want to make a bit of an impression so I thought we needed something more exciting than a lounge to set it in. That's a bit ordinary for this product.'

'Okay, okay, Pat,' cut in Matt. 'Don't get upset. Just tell us what you've got then we can see what we think.'

Pat lifted up the front cover of her writing pad and laid a single sheet of paper in front of Matt.

'There,' she said. 'I know it's not much but this is just the bare bones of it, you understand. I'm sure we can pad it out.'

They crowded round Matt to look over his shoulder.

'Scene one,' he read, 'on a dark and stormy night a Viking ship sits moored at the rivers edge.'

'A Viking ship! Don exploded. 'You stupid woman, how are we going to film a stormy night? And one that features a Viking ship? I don't suppose you've got one moored up in your garden pond by any chance?'

'Don't be so negative,' Pat spat back. 'It's a better idea than you in a smoking jacket, looking like a creep, you nasty man! At least it will stand out from everyone else's video.'

Matt thought about all his wasted work with the story board and looked up exasperated, to catch sight of Krystal grinning with glee.

'C'mon guys,' put in Mina, 'let's keep calm. Don, I'm sure Pat was doing her best, but Pat, although it's very imaginative have you any idea how we can film it, or where we could?'

Pat turned to talk to Mina, trying to ignore Don, who was pulling faces at her.

'Well, Mina,' she said, 'the reason I came up with the idea was because this area has a strong Viking heritage, funnily enough. The name of the town is actually based on a Viking settlement so I think we should exploit that, give this a bit of gravitas, a bit of heritage. So like I say, I haven't mapped it out completely and, okay, I may not have thought through any details but you've got to admit it's got more interest than a lounge.'

She spat the last word in Don's direction as she got more enthused about her idea, but Jamie wasn’t keen either.

'I'm not using my camera out if it's wet,' he moaned. 'It cost me a fortune and its only meant for indoor use. I'm not taking it out in a storm.'

'I'm not taking me out on a stormy night either,' retorted Don. 'So you can count me out of that for a start. And anyway, not that I know much about filming but aren't we going to need some kind of lighting to film? Or is this boat handily parked under a spotlight? Did they have them in Viking days?'

Mina looked anxiously from one to the other as Krystal jumped in with her take on the situation.

'Even better,' she enthused, 'the ship has the dead body of this warrior, whoever the idiot was who founded this place, and it's his burial, so we start with the tribe firing blazing arrows into it. Then it gets all on fire as it drifts out to sea, and the only thing that survives is his horned helmet because it's so soaked with blood and gore, and it floats back on the tide, so the tribe fix it onto a dinky little cabinet that they used to carry the bottles of mead or whatever to the wake. That way, I can do explosions and a dead body. Don can drink mead or whatever, you and Jamie can be warriors, and me and Mina, okay, and Pat, can all dress up as Viking maidens at the wake. What about it?'

They all fell silent as they considered the idea. Don brightened up at the thought that it would still include drinking. He was sure he still knew a man who actually made his own mead. He'd tasted it once and he didn't remember much else about the evening so it must have been good. Mina wasn't sure about being in a film but maybe if she was disguised it wouldn't be too bad, although she struggled to picture Krystal as a demure maiden. Krystal on the other hand saw herself as more of a warrior maiden, complete with axes, horned helmet and a sharks teeth necklace. Okay that last one might have been mixed up with a pirate film she had seen but she had a necklace that would fit the bill. Jamie worried about his camera while Matt thought about the practicalities. They obviously weren't going to get their hands on a Viking ship but he did remember playing a computer game a while ago that included the scene of a warrior prince being sent off with burning arrows. He could soon transpose a Viking ship into a scene and fill the scene with flames, then they only had to actually produce the indoor scene. He brightened, it might just work. Until Pat put her spoke in again.

'No, no no,' she cried, 'I was thinking more that the helmet would be a peace offering to the townspeople and it would be about welcoming new people to the place and drinking in peace and friendship. No wake, no dead body, and no flaming arrows!'

'That's doesn't sound much like Vikings to me, Pat,' scorned Don.

'Okay, okay, enough,' said Matt. 'Look here comes Jessie, let's ask her what she thinks. I still think it's going to be difficult to make any film look decent without the proper resources, like a sound engineer and lighting. Lets see what we can get out of her.'

Jessie walked into the room and clapped her hands for attention.

'Hi guys, hi everyone,' she called, 'how's it going? All excited about your videos? We're hoping for great things from all of you, you know. You bring a fresh eye to the products and give us new and exciting perspectives for marketing.'

Krystal groaned as Matt slumped his head forward.

'Where do they get these people from?' Don shook his head, clearly unimpressed.

'Erm, excuse me Jessie,' Joanne spoke up.

'Yes,dear,' beamed Jessie, 'what is it?'

'Can I ask,' began Joanne, as all eyes turned to look at her, 'can I ask how we're supposed to suggest things when we have no idea how the company actually works? All we've been given so far is the catalogue of products and told to watch a load of duff videos. How do we know what works and what doesn't until we've actually been out on the phones to try out our sales techniques?'

Jessie looked flustered.

'Well, er, that's where your personalities and skills come into it,' she blustered. 'It's not for us to tell you how to do things when you might be able to see a better way but you don't suggest it because you think you have to do it our way. As a company we're very open to new ideas.'

Matt sighed. She had obviously been well trained in how to not answer a question, and she was the only one who who might actually teach them something. They were clearly going to get nowhere with her.

'Now,' she said, regaining her customary bounce, 'if there are no more questions we'll get on with your projects. Who would like to be first to give us a sketch of their video?'

The girls on the front row practically jumped into the air with their hands reaching for the ceiling, just like a row of infants in school. One of them even called Jessie 'Miss'. Jessie beamed at them and happily called them forward.

They ran to the front of the room, turning to face everyone, and with much giggling and scolding from Kirsten who had appointed herself as director of the video, they all began to talk at once about how they were doing a version of a programme called America's Next Top Model. Their film seemed to include school uniforms, a party and a cat fight over the use of the curling tongs, the product they were actually trying to promote. It wasn't clear how they expected customers to feel the need of the curling tongs when all they seemed to be used for was to hit each other. At the end Kirsten silenced the others and gave a little speech about product placement and how they had brilliantly secured sponsorship from GKD, (a rival manufacturers of hair straighteners), a local hairdressers and Mr Khan, the newsagent on the corner.

The second row still didn't want to come forward with their idea, there seemed to be a dispute between the two halves of the row. The two older women didn't seem keen to join in and one of them looked as though she was on the verge of tears. In exasperation Jessie told them to come forward and tell everyone what they did have. In front of Don, Fiona pushed past the boy on the end of the row and walked to the front of the room.

'I have a bwilliant idea,' she lisped, 'but no one else will listen to it even though they can't come up with anything better themselves.'

A feeble cry of protest was muttered along the row but no one offered to come forward. The two older women on the right hand side of the row shook their heads at each other as Joanne, sitting in front of Matt, tutted and bent down to get her mobile out of her bag, becoming engrossed in a message that had just come through. Next to her the rather languid young man was leaning back in his chair, twirling idly from side to side as he doodled on his notepad on the desk in front of him. Jessie smiled encouragingly Fiona.

'Well, go on then, Fiona,' she urged. 'You tell us what you've got and we can start from there.'

'Yeah, okay then, it's like this, y'know? There's this new band, alwight, and they have a bwilliant wecord but no one will give 'em a bweak, and they see the kawaoke set in our catalogue so one of 'em buys it and when the others see how good it is they all join in and just then an agent is passing and signs 'em up stwaightaway. And I have a fwiend who owns a fancy dress shop so I'm sure I can get some great costumes for us all, y'know? It's ok, yeah?'

Jessie looked over at the rest of the group, smiling her best persuasive smile.

'Well, that sounds like a fun project, doesn't it guys?'

The young boy at the end of the row blushed. The two older women folded their arms across their chests and looked disgusted, while the languid young man continued to twirl his chair, keeping his eyes firmly on his doodling on the notepad in front of him. Joanne looked up from her mobile phone and sighed. No one ventured a comment.

'Well, I'm afraid that's the decision made then,' said Jessie. 'In the absence of an alternative this is it. We haven't got time to play with unfortunately, as these films have to be done by the end of this week.'

'End of the week!' A cry went up around the room as everyone protested. The two older women folded their arms even tighter and almost turned to face the wall.

'Okay! Okay! Everyone calm down. It's plenty of time,' soothed Jessie. 'We're going to give you time to work on it and I'm sure you'll come up with some brilliant stuff. It's even possible that John will bring his good friend, Hugh Postlethwaite from Quality Curiosities TV, to judge the final films for possible showing on his shopping channel! Now that would be a real breakthrough for one of our staff to achieve that. It's a very hard market to break into. Now, last but not forgotten, what about you guys on the back row? What ideas do you have? Come on, guys, come forward and tell everyone your ideas.'

Warily, Matt pushed his chair back and followed Don and Jamie up to the front of the room. Mina and Pat walked up the other side of the room, leaving Krystal remaining seated, looking mutinous. Mina looked back and urgently waved her forward. Begrudgingly she stood up and sloped to the front of the room, slouching behind Mina and Pat. Matt and Jamie looked at each other, wondering who was going to speak first. Don decided the matter for him.

'We're doing the Viking Wine Chariot and I'm going to play an old Viking chief getting drunk at the wake for a warrior who's just been pushed out to sea in his flaming boat,' he said in a rush.

'No, no, no,' protested Pat. 'I mean, yes, we are doing the wine chariot but our film is set on a dark stormy night where the ship is being lit and sailed off, then the warrior's helmet is ceremonially placed on top of the cabinet where they keep the mead.'

'Great, great,' enthused Jessie, sliding a quick glance at her watch, 'that sounds fabulous, thank you guys. If you'd like to take your seats now I can tell you how we're going do this.'

She waited as they wandered back to their seats, Krystal pushing past Pat to get back first. Matt and Jamie looked at each other and shrugged. They were the ones who were going to have to film this and no one else seemed to consider any production problems they might have.

'Okay, guys,' Jessie continued. 'So, shortly we're going to have a quick break then we're going to split up into our groups. Before we do that I just want to have five minutes with each group to talk you through any production problems I can see you might have, so first group, can I see you now please? Can the rest of you, especially Fiona's group, get your heads together and work out where you're going to start? Great. Okay then Kirsten, just talk me through your plan again. So how are you going to make viewers want to buy our hair tongs?'

The front row moved into a huddle around Jessie, giggling and fighting for attention, including Ella who giggled and pouted with the rest of them. Matt watched as Jessie's head bobbed up and down, nodding at all the comments. She soon moved onto the second row, leaving the girlie group twittering with excitement about how they were going to do their hair. There wasn't quite as much nodding with the second group and Matt could hear her pleading with the two older women to join in. Jan was refusing point blank.

'I'm sorry,' she declared, 'but it's just impossible. I told them when I took this job that I would need time to deal with my mother. She eighty-nine, for god's sake, what am I supposed to do? Tell her to die quietly without bothering anyone? After she's given her life to me and my brothers, who are quite useless and are leaving it all to me. I have to do it because no one else will. If you think I'm going to cast her to one side for a stupid exercise that I have no skills for and no reason to think will have anything to do with the job I was hired for, then you're wrong. Why are we wasting so much time on riddles and role playing when it has nothing to do with answering telephones?'

'Hear, hear,' agreed Sybil sitting next to her. ' I mean I haven't got the same responsibilities as Jan. My mother died when she was only fifty, god rest her soul, but I understand what she means. I have grandchildren that I want to spend time with. And I'm too old to be pretending I'm in a pop group, for heavens sake!'

She shot a dirty look across to Fiona, accompanied by a glare from Jan.

'Yeah, yeah, of course, I understand completely,' said a flustered Jessie. 'If you really can't take part then that's cool but I think Fiona has a really good idea, we just need to pull it together and make it work. Maybe you could be looking for sponsors if you don't want to be part of the actual filming? That would be a really useful role to play, crucial, in fact.'

Jan and Sybil exchanged glances. It didn't sound much better to them at all. Neither of them wanted to play a part in this at all but reluctantly they consented.

'I could get my Hayley and Justin to play a part,' put in Joanne. 'Hayley's big for her age and looks older than twelve, and Justin is nine, maybe he could be a fan. Just as long as they're both in it. I'll have fights otherwise.'

'There you go. That's positive, Joanne, thank you,' beamed Jessie. 'Okay now, you and Fiona work on that with Alex here and, sorry what's your name again young man?'

The languid young man mumbled something, his eyes still fixed on the paper. With a little encouragement she got his name out of him.

'Sean, that's great,' she said, and added, nodding at the drawings on his pad, 'I can see you're very artistic. I'm sure you'll be a great help. Maybe you could draw up the storyboard? That's an essential part of a film you know. Without that the director has no idea what scene to shoot when. So you're agreed then,' she said standing up. 'Fiona is the director, Alex can write a script and Sean will produce. Great. Great, guys. Good one. Get to it. Great.'

She came round to the back row and gathered them around her.

'Okay guys,' she began, 'a dark and stormy night then?'

Matt held his breath, waiting for Jessie to point out the futility of trying to make an amateur film with sophisticated effects, especially one that would involve pretty intense technical resources. To his surprise she made no mention of it.

'It's such a great idea. Great idea,' she enthused. 'Brilliant, so different. It could be the winner, you know.'

She beamed at them all as Pat sat up proudly in her seat.

'But what about producing a storm?' Matt had to ask the question. 'How can we film a storm? And it involves a body lying in a Viking ship. There's a few production problems I can think of right there.'

'Now, don't be defeatist before you've even tried,' said Jessie, ignoring him to talk to Don. 'So you're going to be a Viking chief, how exciting! And who came up with the idea? Great, great. Now who's doing the storyboard in this group? And the directing? Looking for sponsors?'

They looked blankly at her until Krystal spoke.

'I'm sorting out the dead body,' she said, tapping the side of her nose. 'No questions, you understand but it will be very lifelike...'

'Right, right. Great,' Jessie replied, 'and moving on. So Pat's the scriptwriter, Don's one of the main characters, what about the rest of you?'

Within minutes Matt found himself responsible for production, the very job he hadn't wanted, Jamie claimed a technical role, on the grounds that it was his camera, Krystal actually offered to do a storyboard.

Matt wanted to ask Jessie more questions always ne. He had hoped that she would pour some common sense onto Pat's idea but Jessie jumped up and moved away before he had a chance to speak.

'Okay then,' she called out as she got back to the front, 'I think we've all earned a nice break now. If you all come back to this room after break, you'll be going to work in separate rooms. If you can be back here in twenty minutes I'll be back with Jo and Marilyn to tell you where that will be, but great work so far guys. Some brilliant ideas, I have great hopes for you. Great, great.'

She gathered up her bag and left, giving them her trademark beam as she walked out.

'Great. Great,' mimicked Krystal,glowering. 'Yeah, it is. I get to legitimately do a dead body, watch out if I don't like you...'

Short fiction #4

Wed, 29 May 2013 18:59:45 +0100

April 1st - Who's a fool?

Liz turned over in bed and groaned. Dangling in front of her face was a severed head that looked like her boyfriend Damien. She turned back and buried her face in the pillow, determined to stay there until one o'clock at least. Every April first had been the same since she had moved in with him. Three years on and he still didn't get that she didn't find his jokes funny. Of course, it wasn't the only thing he didn't get about Liz.
She sighed as her thoughts returned to Jack. He had been perfect and they had been perfect together. Why had it all been taken away from her? Who had decreed that Liz Jolly was not to have a good relationship? At what point in her life had she offended some god who determined that she was not good enough for true love? Jack had been everything she had ever dreamed of, charming, clever, witty and her soulmate in every way.

Damien had been so kind to her after the crash that she had begun to rely on him more and more, until it had just seemed the natural progression to move with him. Strange how they had met several times before the crash but she had never noticed him. Still, next to Jack she wouldn't have noticed Prince William either, she was sure. But considering Damien had tried so hard to please her initially, it crossed her mind that lately he seemed less and less interested in what she wanted and more determined that she should like what he liked.
Liz thought back to the latest shopping trip when she had come home with a nineteen fifties style dress, something she had never bought before but which Damien had persuaded her all the girls in his office were wearing. To work? She doubted that, but she had taken a chance. Deep down she knew she would never be comfortable wearing it, or the twinset that he had bought her to go with it. A tear escaped onto the pillow as she realised how lost she felt, a ship adrift without her anchor.

Why had kind, brave Jack thrown himself across her at that last moment? Those final seconds as she realised he was dying, blood leaking from the gash in his neck, would forever replay in her mind. Why hadn't she been killed in the accident? It would have been kinder, she felt. It was impossible to go on. One more day without Jack was one too many. She slid out of the covers and moved, zombie-like, into the adjoining bathroom. Reaching into the bathroom cabinet she took out the small tub and turned on the cold tap. She ran the now cold water into her beaker and wandered back to sit on her side of the bed, facing the stupid severed head looking glassily back at her.

She popped the top off the beaker and tipped its contents out over the covers. Damn! There weren't many in there, not enough to have the right result Not enough to be sure. She frowned at the head as her brain ticked over. Following the line of the rope up to the ceiling she came up with another idea. She threw off the covers, making the pills scatter all over the floor.

Opening the wardrobe door she pulled out the new dress and the twinset and laid them on the bed. April Fool eh, she thought as she savagely stuffed the pillow inside the dress and hung the twinset over it before attaching it to the severed head. I'll give you a fool you'll remember, she thought. She pulled the moustache off the face and put her old blonde wig over the top. It wasn't quite her colour but never mind, it was the one Damien had kept urging her to change to so it may just fool him. Adding a few touches with the help of her make up bag she quickly had enough to suggest a female to someone who wasn't expecting it. As she hitched the rope up higher so that the full effect could be seen from the bedroom door she realised she was grinning happily. Maybe there was something to this April Fooling, she conceded. Moving round the bedroom as quietly as she could she put on her jeans and tee shirt and threw a few essentials into a bag. From the hallway rose the smell of burning bacon, Damien's hallmark of the weekend.
Laughing as she threw open the bedroom window, she thought of how much she hated burnt bacon and how he had never mastered the fine line between crispy and burnt. That was typical of Damien she thought as she shimmied down the drainpipe, no finesse in anything, always transparent in his heavy handedness. As she walked, no ran, up the street she heard Damien's strangled scream echo behind her. Thank goodness that she had not renewed her prescription that week, she thought smiling, or she may never have realised that it wasn't going on without Jack that was so hard, it was going on with Damien that had been the main problem.

Call Centre Carnage Chapter 3

Sun, 26 May 2013 19:02:05 +0100

CHAPTER THREE

The plot thickens

They continued to discuss the possible sponsors and Don volunteered that as wine was the obvious one he would approach all the wine shops in his area to try to get donations, hoping they would offer him samples to test. Krystal argued it was more obvious to get dairy farmers to sponsor it because it looked like a misshapen cow. Before they could come to blows, the door opened and Jo walked back into the room with Marilyn.

'Okay guys! Can I have your attention please? Come on, you've had long enough to make a decision,' called Jo. 'Now, I want one from each group to tell me what you're going to do and Marilyn and I will say whether we approve or not.'

Marilyn flicked her hair over each shoulder, leaning from side to side in one fluid movement as she swung her head round.

'That's right,' enthused Marilyn, 'Jo and I will give you all the help and encouragement you need but this will be a fantastic learning opportunity for everyone. We're hoping the CEO himself will come in to judge the videos and it may even mean instant promotion to the video unit for a really good effort! Think of that! Now, I'll take the front row, Jo will mentor the second and the lucky people on the back row will get both of us, so you'll get double the help! Aren't you lucky?' She flicked her hair again for emphasis.

Not one person on the back row could say they felt themselves lucky. Krystal snarled but contented herself with muttering under her breath. Matt felt sure that, having seen how much effort the two women had put in so far, it would just mean their group would fall down the crack between the two of them. They had done such little work on their training that it was fairly clear that they would struggle to manage two groups. In a way he was relieved because all he wanted to do was get through the training and get to work where he might get a chance to get some overtime. That's all he was here for, the money. If he didn't get some of his debts down quickly he was in danger of getting his computer repossessed and he wouldn't be able to live without that. It was his lifeline to people who were like him.

On the front row a heavily made up young blonde girl, Kristen, stood up to outline their plan. The front row was mostly young women apart from one, Ella, who was definitely older despite dressing like a teenager. They had decided to do a scene based in a model academy for hair straighteners. Krystal snorted again.

Then it was time for the second row to outline their plan. There was a bit of paper shuffling and glances up and down the row as they each exhorted the other to get up. No-one wanted to speak.

'Oh, c'mon guys!' Jo's voice had a hard edge. Marilyn flicked her hair again. She looked uncomfortable and stepped forwards.

'What about you, dear?' Marilyn pointed at Fiona, sitting in front of Don.

Don thought she was pointing at him and hit back with sarcasm.

'Not in front of the children, darling,' he replied, 'later, when they've all gone to bed.'

A titter lightened the atmosphere although Marilyn didn't seem to get the joke. She flicked her hair furiously, twice, as she tried to compose herself.

'There's no need for smut, Mr, er...?'

'Don, dearest,' supplied Don, completely unfazed by Marilyn's discomfort.

'Yes. Mr Dearest. Okay. Thank you but I was pointing at the person in front of you, actually. Yes you, dear, erm...'

She floundered as Fiona pointed at herself, while everybody else tittered again. Marilyn had been told by Adrienne not to address workers as 'dear' or to use any term of endearment because it was patronising, although she didn't understand what was wrong with being friendly. The girl shook her head shyly and turned to a young man next to her. He blushed and shook his head and looked past the girl to a harassed looking woman who was consulting her mobile phone. She snapped it away when she saw them looking at her.

'Oh it's me, is it? Honestly, when there's stuff to be done you ask the person with the most on,' she snapped. 'As if I haven't got enough to do with our Hayley's orthodontist on Monday and Justin's football tournament tomorrow, never mind poor little Alice's reading practice. Oh for god's sake! All we've got is six different ideas and not a thing we can actually produce. Why don't you do something radical, Jo, and actually sit with us to teach us something instead of swanning off on another coffee break. Or better still, why don't you do one for us and we'll say we did it? Job done, you're off the hook and so are we.'

'Well I don't think there's any need for that tone,' blustered Jo.

'I do,' replied the woman, whose name was Joanne. 'I came here to do a job and as far as I see it, the best way to do that job is to practice taking calls and learning scripts. Not playing about solving riddles and artificial scenarios where it's easy to say you'll be nice to people when they're not actually shouting down your earpiece. C'mon guys, just let us get out there and do it!

A smattering of applause echoed round the room.

'John is most insistent that every new employee should understand the workings of the company and the principles by which we work,' put in Marilyn, looking extremely put out and flicking her hair furiously. 'It's important that everyone understands and supports the principle that we all have a vested interest in making this company a success.' Flick, flick. 'From the very beginning he has always ensured that each staff member knows that they have a voice and that he will listen to everyone. You're not just a call centre operative here. This isn't just a call centre, it's a customer support centre, and you're not just a cog in a machine, you're an important member of a crucial department. If you can remember back to Monday when we gave everyone a copy of the company mission statement, "To achieve greatness through individual effort". Without you nothing happens. It all revolves around you so it's important that you recognise how important you are.' Flick, flick.

A solitary clap echoed around the now silent room. One of the blonde girls at the front blushed and looked down to hide her embarrassment. Matt sighed as he wished that these people would put their high ideals into practice. From what he had seen before it was all mission-statement claptrap. At the last company he had challenged one of their stated aims which was to increase diversity, arguing that it amounted to discrimination. This had resulted in a rather heated discussion with the manager who hadn't liked being questioned but who had been unable to answer the question. It had taken place at an annual company conference where the employees had been sitting at tables of six with a tiny dish of sweets in the middle of each table. They had been set the challenge of brainstorming some ideas for the following years targets - 'employee led targets' they had called them. More like employees led by the nose, in Matt's opinion.

He seemed to be the only one that saw the con that was being worked on them. Give the workers a day away from their desks, feed them a few sweets and pastries and let them think they actually had the power to change their working environment. Nothing had ever changed except that the managers kept getting higher bonuses and the workers believed they had a voice in the company.

After that experience Matt had concentrated on his games design. All he needed from a job was an income while he perfected his game to sell to one of the big companies. Then he would be rich and his debts would disappear. He just hadn't found a way for it to make him any money yet. For now he wanted a mindless job with bonuses that would leave him free to daydream new twists for his game. He wasn't looking for a career and certainly not one that involved talking to people all day.

Jo gave up trying to get anything out of the trainees on the middle row and impatiently turned her attention to the back row.

'Well, what about you guys? I suppose you haven't managed to come up with anything either.'

Everyone on the row turned to look at Matt.

'Actually we have,' he said firmly, determined not to suffer any longer under her glare than he had to. 'Our product's the Viking Wine Chariot and we'll be setting our video in a stately home, yeah?'

'Oh. Yes. Great.' Jo was clearly surprised at such a concise answer.

'How wonderful,' twittered Marilyn, flick, flick. 'John will absolutely adore that. Maybe I can help. I know one of the volunteers at Higgleswick Hall and I might be able to arrange something for you. Just come to see me next week and we'll talk.' Flick, flick.

'Mm, yes. Great,' nodded Matt, thinking that he would rather do anything than have to put up with Marilyn and her hair-flicking all day.

'Okay. Great. That's it then,' said Jo looking at her watch. ' let's break there for lunch. Okay. And it's Friday so let's make it a long lunch. You can get some more planning done, allocate roles, etc, and if you get back here in two hours, Terence will be here to assess your scripts. Coming Marilyn?'

Jo grabbed her bag and linked Marilyn's arm, sweeping her towards the door.

'What about us? What do we do?' Joanne called out before they reached the door.

Jo turned and gave her a dismissive wave of her free hand.

'You're going to have to come to some agreement, aren't you? I hope you have something to show after lunch or it'll just look like you're not trying, won't it sweetie?'

Krystal exploded as the door shut behind them.

'What a selfish bitch! Hey, Joanne,' she called, 'I'll help you come up with something. How about an exploding bra that we get her to model? Or a burglar alarm that we can get her to trigger just by speaking? We've just got to take her down, she's such a bitch and just useless at training.'

Joanne gave Krystal a look of disgust.

'Killing doesn't get me a wage, Krystal,' she said. 'All we've got to do is get through this and then we can get to work. This "training" has got nothing to do with the job we'll be doing, you know. I just hope I'm not working for that woman once we're out on the phones. If I have to report to her every day I might just take you up on your offer! Give me Marilyn any day. At least her main fault is the hair flicking and I can choose not to watch that.'

'Can you?' Pat sounded amazed. 'I find myself hypnotised by it. It's like hiccups. I keep waiting for the next flick. You can almost time them, you know.'

'Roughly every ten seconds,' put in Don as he reached for his coat. 'C'mon, anyone for the canteen to do a bit of plotting?'

'But it's Friday! And we've got two hours! Can't we go to the bar?' Jamie looked crestfallen.

Mina looked worriedly from Matt to Jamie. Krystal put her arm around her shoulders.

'Yeah. Top idea,' she said. 'Don't worry, Mina. You can swop coats with me and no one will ever notice you.'

She offered her charity shop man's overcoat to Mina and held out her hand for Mina's sensible coat.

'And I could tie your hair up like mine and they'd never even look,' she added.

Mina took the coat but shook her head at the offer of a hairdo. Krystal's hair was roughly pulled into hair bobbles at all kinds of peculiar angles, although it didn't help that most of them looked as though they had been in place for so long that the hair was growing round them.

'Okay then,' said Matt. 'The bar it is then. Let's go.'

Short Story #3

Wed, 22 May 2013 19:48:15 +0100

My Sisters' Birthday

People often ask me what it's like having twins for sisters and I never know what to say to them. I've never known anything else, you see, because they were here when I arrived. In fact, the babies had mum and dad run ragged when mum got unexpectedly caught with me, so in a way we've been like been triplets really. Very often there's no difference between us, except that I don't have their special bond.

It's true, they really can know each other's thoughts, but I got pretty good at joining in this game. Until their last birthday party, that is. It wasn't my fault, I didn't ask them to play that trick, they just decided it would be fun to sneak up on someone and they didn't let me in on the joke or I might have been able to stop them.

I went to visit them last week, took them some food that they like. They don't like it in there. I think it's really creepy and Sally wasn't coping very well with it. Sarah was doing better but I could see that even she wasn't happy about it. She just puts a bit more bravado on, our Sarah, but I know her better, better than she does herself I think. I knew it was stupid to do what they did, but like I say, they didn't tell me what they were doing beforehand. If only they had known that Uncle Donald had a weak heart, they may never have done it.

It's been very lonely for me since they went. I feel like I've lost my whole family and it's not fair. I'm sure I'm just as clever as they are but no one's interested in me. Oh no, I'm not a twin I'm just a single person, nothing special. Still, I suppose I get mum and dad all to myself now. Well, I would if they were around more but since the twins went they're having to work all the hours they can just to keep the money coming in. I understand that it's expensive, having kids, but having twins is more than just the cost of two kids, it seems. Now they're in that special institute developing their 'special' skills and it's costing mum and dad an arm and a leg to pay for it.

I wish they'd never showed off at that birthday party. If they hadn't shown off in front of Aunty Irene she might have left us alone, but when they played that trick and poor Uncle Donald fell down she was watching them while everybody fussed him. Mum and Dad never told us that she was some kind of educational psychologist. I wonder now if she is really an auntie. Dad said she had been married to his brother James once and she'd always been good to us when we were little but I don't remember seeing her. Dad said she just hadn't been around much since her and Uncle James spilt up, but I don't know, seems funny to me. She's a bit clever for our family and I can't see anyone that clever marrying Uncle James, who's a bit thick really. And he's never mentioned being married.

Poor Dad's never been quite the same since they took the twins away. I think he wonders if he did the right thing. I hear them arguing at night, him and mum, trying to convince themselves that it was right to let them go. I know they'll be out soon but I can't tell anyone. The twins have sworn me to secrecy. All that food I've been taking them in, right under the noses of the doctors, that's part of the plan, and next week when it's their next birthday they'll let everyone know what they think of that institute. Let's just say it won't be there to make any more kids suffer, not after Sarah's got to work with the stuff inside the doughnuts. It was really tricky getting the filling inside those doughnuts, not as easy as jam, that's for sure.

Call Centre Carnage Chapter 2 (cont)

Thu, 23 May 2013 10:59:04 +0100

Continued. . .

When everyone, except Krystal, was seated at their desks, Jo handed out the DVDs to the front row and asked them to pass them back. A collective groan ran round the room as they recognised yet another batch of Jo's sales videos.

'Okay, enough,' urged Jo. 'You'll learn a lot from my videos and then you get to see what you can do. Are you ready for this? You're going to make your own sales video!'

The reactions rippled back in degrees from the squeals of the almost identical girls on the front row squeals to mild curiosity on the back row.

'You'll work in groups,' continued Jo. 'Okay, six in a row, each row can form a group. I want you to watch these videos, then get together in your groups and agree on a video style as well as what role you will play in your production. These DVDs contain the full range of my selling styles from my early days right up to the current, rather more professionally produced films that I show today, as a syndicated TV personality with my own show...'

'Yeah, on at god earthly hours on a minor satellite channel desperate to plug what they think are British products. And I bet most of them are made in child sweat shops,' muttered Krystal to Matt.

Jo was continuing to talk as the discs were passed around, but as soon as everyone had a disc and they were watching their monitor screens she suddenly announced that she would just be popping out for a moment. Everyone knew what that meant. She was off for a coffee with her best mate, Marilyn, and wouldn't be back until the end of the session.

Krystal yanked the disc out of her machine and threw it on the floor, stamping hard on it until it cracked.

'That's what I think of her so-called professional films, the stupid cow!'

Mina's eyes started to fill up and Matt tried to calm Krystal down while the rest of the room erupted into cries of disagreement and despair.

'Where's Adrienne when you need her?'

'I can't learn anything from watching this self-obsessed bitch.'

The sentiments echoed round the room as others turned from their machines to complain to each other.

'How are we supposed to produce something professional without some help?'

'I could do better than this with one hand behind my back,' preened one of the front row girls.

'Oh yeah? And just where have you got professional lighting and sound engineers, let alone make-up artists and scriptwriters?'

'You mean this guff is scripted? No way man, this is just her liking the sound of her own voice.'

Matt tried to ignore the noise and stared at his monitor.

'Hey guys! Hey! Everyone! Have you seen the latest email from Jo?' He tried to shout over the noise until he got everyone's attention. 'She must have just sent it through. I think her and Marilyn are having a laugh at us.'

Fiona, dark haired girl on the next row of desks snorted as she read the email.

'She has to be joking,' she said. 'Have we got video phones? Is that what she wants us to make a film on? What does she think we're doing? How can we make anything without the proper equipment.'

'Hang on,' called Jan, an older woman sitting at the end of the middle row. 'There's another email from Marilyn. She wants us to get some kind of sponsorship for our films? What's that about? Surely the company will buy the films, if they're any good, which there's not much chance of. I don't know the first thing about making a video on my phone. I can't do it. Sorry guys, I won't be much use to this team.'

She looked apologetically along the row at her colleagues.

'And besides,' she added, 'I have to take my mother into a new residential home next week so I won't have time to take part in it. You'll have to manage without me.'

A look of disgust passed along the row between the rest of her group. The boy next to Fiona brought out his mobile phone and started demonstrating its video capabilities to her as she looked even more annoyed than she had a few minutes earlier.

Krystal grabbed her bag off the back of her chair and started heading for the door.

'Where're you going?' Mina looked anxiously after her. 'Come on, we need all the help we can get. Don't just leave'

Krystal turned with her handle on the doors and smiled at Mina.

'I'll be back,' she grinned, 'but if that bitch can walk out of her class then so can we. We need to find sponsors, don't we? Well I'll do that but I can't find them sitting in this room, can I? C'mon, let's go and see if Bar365 will sponsor us, eh? And then after that there's Domino's and then, ooh, let's see where we fancy spending the afternoon. I'm sure the rest of you can take care of the filming can't you?'

Matt shook his head, watching her as she winked at Mina and strutted through the door. For once he didn't want to stop her getting herself into trouble. He already knew from experience that she would get sacked sooner or later and she didn't seem to care when it happened. He was just amazed that she lasted as long as she did when she pushed the rules so much although he had to admit a sneaking admiration for the courage she showed. Sometimes he wished he could be as confident, especially in places like this call centre where targets were high and pressure intense. All the targets and supervision stats felt like a whip to keep them from thinking about how bad their lives were. And some managers seemed to take any drops in performance so personally that working there became intolerable.

Matt was sure there was a better way of running a call centre. For a start the support systems seemed so inefficient, he was sure he could write a better performing system in a week or two. It would just be a matter of tweaking some of the programs. He had lots of ideas of how to make the work more interesting, give more scope for progressing and maybe higher rates of pay, commission and other incentives. Matt made a mental note to speak to Drew about it next time he got him on his own.

From two seats down on his left a young guy called Jamie leaned over to him.

'Hey, I got a seriously cool webcam last week and I reckon we could mock up a pretty good video between us, what d'you think?'

Matt shrugged.

'Yeah, sure, Jamie, that'd be great,' he replied. 'Maybe we can take care of the tech stuff We're going to have to something so we might as well have a bit of fun with it. What about you Mina? You could be our salesgirl. I reckon you'd be proper photogenic.'

Mina giggled and hid behind her hands, looking round to Pat on her other side. Pat smiled but seemed less enthusiastic about the idea.

'So what shall I do?' She looked at the two boys expectantly. 'I did do a bit of creative writing at school but that was a long time ago. The only things I've written lately are emails and to-do lists but I could write a script.'

'Great. So we're good to go then,' put in Don, an older man sitting between Matt and Jamie. He had already made it clear that he didn't care about the job. He'd only taken the job to get out of the house and earn a little money before he got his pension. His wife's job paid the bills and he just needed to prove he could contribute. Having suffered from depression for most of his life, one of his priorities was a job with sick pay for when he needed time off.

On the next row Jan had her head together with Sybil, the older woman next to her, muttering about wasting their time with stupid exercises. They had come to do a job where they turned up in the morning and went home in the evening after doing what it took to earn a living. They didn't understand the modern obsession will with role playing exercises. It had never been like that when they first started work. Just tell them what they had to do and they would do it. They had no need for stupid games.

Matt listened to the grumbling going on around him and held up his hands.

'Okay guys,' he said, 'I know it's stupid but let's do see what we can think up, yeah? We might as well get on with something as watch another one of Jo's videos? C'mon, let's get together and throw out some ideas.'

His group wheeled their chairs into a huddle at the back of the room just as Krystal stormed back into the room.

'Bloody security! Didn't want to let me go until they had it cleared with my manager,' she raged, 'and that bloody bitch Jo wouldn't back me up; said we had to present her with a plan before anyone went off anywhere, and it was all supposed to be done over the phone, as in, it's a call centre thing so like, use the phone. Anyway, you guys need me or else you'll just come up with something shit."

Straddling her chair she pushed into the huddle and leaned forward.

'So what've you got so far? What're we doing?'

Everyone started to think up ideas, some more outlandish than others and Matt tried to keep track of them all as he scribbled them down on the pad. Inevitably everyone wanted something different. Don wanted to feature wine, Jamie wanted a new gadget, Pat thought a new hair care item would win the task for them and Mina just wanted to please everyone. Matt vetoed every suggestion that Krystal made. Not one of them was without violence, many involving a bloodstained scene or explosives. Eventually they came to a compromise that Pat would write a script, Jamie would arrange the filming with Matt, and Mina, Krystal and Don would try to get sponsors.

The product to sell had to be chosen from the Pickering Prime Picks catalogue, the specialist items that were supplied to the upmarket Sunday supplements. These products were even more garish than some of the cheaper catalogue items that the company sold, the Pickering Popular Picks. Prime products took bad taste to a new extreme, eccentricity appearing to be the main criteria for their inclusion in the catalogue. The company seemed to work on the premise that the more affluent the audience, the crazier their tastes would be. As the group passed the catalogue around, two of them, Pat and Jamie, both chose a clear plastic hood that was a personal phone kiosk for a mobile phone user to inflate around their head for some privacy. Don and Matt agreed on a wood effect cabinet with shelves for wine bottles and DVDs. It would have been perfectly acceptable apart from the Viking helmet complete with realistic horns to use as handles and a commemorative plate describing the Viking invasion of the British Isles.

Everyone looked at Krystal and Mina to cast their votes. Mina shook her head and looked at Krystal.

'I don't care,' she shrugged. 'I'd be happy to blow the lot sky high.'

'Oh come on, Krystal,' snapped Matt. 'Stop being so dramatic! We all know it's crap stuff but we have to make a film around one of them so just pick the one least likely to make you throw up.'

'Okay, okay! Let's go with the cow horns. At least that's funny.'

Mina nodded.

'I agree with Krystal,' she said, 'maybe we could have some fun with that one.'

'Okay guys,' declared Matt, 'everyone agree? We're doing the cow horns? Now let's get on with the actual video. I'm guessing they won't give us long to get it done.'

The group chatted some more, throwing ideas about for a setting for the video. Don suggested that a lounge setting would be easy to set up and film. Krystal wanted to go for a deathbed scene where an old guy was bequeathing his treasured cabinet to his descendants. They all agreed that they needed to set it in a really upmarket room and despite offers of help Pat insisted that she would be able to write a script for it over the weekend.

Short fiction #2

Fri, 17 May 2013 12:33:52 +0100

This story was inspired by words suggested by the excellent Cakeshortandsweet blog by Sarah Grace Logan in her online Wednesday short story challenge. Thanks Sarah.

The prompts were chloroform, banana split, crackers, stench, shoestring budget

Margo clutched the chloroform bottle under her coat as she bustled along the dark, dismal street, darker in places where the howling gale had blown out the gas lamps. The rain pelted at her face and stung with every drop. Her thin coat was soaked through too but on her shoestring budget she knew she had a stark choice and she was sure this expense would be worth it. She muttered to herself as she forced her way around the corner where the wind dropped slightly.

'I can do it! I've got to do it! It's tonight or never, no backing out now. If 'e finds out what I've done, 'e'll kill me for sure. It's me or 'im so I 'aven't got a choice, 'ave I?'

Unseeing she stumbled on a large black shape at the side of the pavement. Fortunately it was soft, if soaking wet, and cushioned her fall.

'Eh! What? Is that you Mary? What you doin' out on a night like this? You'd be better in the warehouse over yonder with the others,' said Margo.

'Not a chance, dearie,' rasped back an old voice from the depths of the rags. 'There's such a stench coming from there that I'd rather sit out here under the stars. Y'know me and confinement don't do well together. But the smell, pooh! It's worse than anything I ever smelt.'

Margo wiped the rain out of her eyes as she wondered what smell could be worse than Mary on a hot summer's evening.

'Any roads,' continued Mary, 'it's foreign muck 'n that's diff'rent, y'see. It might be poisonous for all we know so I'm not taking a chance. It's them bananies, y'see. A huge crate o' them spilt open and they's rotten, rotten and high as anything. So y' see, I'm better off out here under God's good rain what was intended to fall here, not getting poisoned in there by them unnat'ral smells. Not normal it ain't.'

Margo gave up trying to persuade her to move, and it crossed her mind to wonder which God Mary thought was responsible for the bananas. She couldn't afford the luxury of time to take care of her tonight but tomorrow she would come and check on Mary to see how she was. Tomorrow she would be free but right now she had urgent business and if she wasn't home when Bill called for his beer and crackers there would be hell to pay. No more, she vowed silently as she climbed the flights of stairs to their shack on the roof, no more after tonight. Tonight he would get a little extra with his crackers and tomorrow... Tomorrow would be different.