Saturday, 9 June 2007

21: something apples

I don’t even make it in the door. My boss is standing at the front entrance, Monday morning. The sun is using the surface of his head to reflect directly into my eyes.

Something something bananas, he says at me from across the carpark.

Sorry, I say once I have reached him. Pardon?

Something something BANANAS?

Oh, I say. We threw them away.

Something something authority.

Um …

Something something taking the piss.

Sorry.

Good job something something apples.

Right.

I wait to see if there is more but it looks like he’s finished.

Something something store room, he says as I pass.

I walk along the empty aisles.

I go up the stairs.

I go into the staff room.

I hang up my coat.

I go out of the staff room.

I clock in.

I go down the stairs.

I go into the store room.

I wish I still smoked.

There is a new tower of something in the store room.

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