2000-12-07 - 12:29:05

Chapter 3

Later that night I found myself back at my apartment. I�d stopped off for a couple of stiff ones on the way home, but what I needed now was a drink or two to relax me. I mulled over the facts like so much cheap red wine that a dash of nutmeg and spices and simmering over a low heat could barely disguise the flavour of. A rush of adrenaline hit me as the possibilities of the task ahead opened up�the danger�the intrigue�the chance to fiddle my expenses. I wanted to start my research straight away, and regretted not having the internet at home. I was technically inept and, like a spider given too much marijuana in a government funded experiment, I had problems getting around the web. I decided to call her instead, eventually using the phone when I got hoarse.

�Hello?� It was a female voice. Not hers. But definitely someone�s.

�You�re not the woman who came to the Post Office to see me this afternoon, are you?�

�No, I can never go in post offices. I have allergies to manila and big sacks. You must want my girlfriend. She�s gone to her weight-loss class.�

A sudden revelation. She was bi, and large. As I hung up, I realised that this was going to be stickier than the business end of a Lewinski�d cigar. I couldn�t help but be philosophical about the whole thing, though, my mind recalling the quote from Oscar Wilde, who was once famously overheard to say, �WHAT DO YOU MEAN, I�M GOING TO JAIL?!?!?!�

(to be continued?)

*pablo kickasso makes no apologies for recycled/blatantly stolen material