I stared blankly ahead. The moron in front of me had put his chair back so far, his head was practically in my lap. (And I usually enjoy that sort of thing!)
"Sir," I said quietly. "Could you please put your seat to the upright position?"
Bert shrugged. "Oh, fine."
That's right. We ordered our tickets, got on a plane... got on a another plane... strolled around the Vancouver, Canada airport, got on another plane, spent a night at some airport in South America and then got on another plane.
That's right. We got to spend exactly six hour at Sant Onaray... and we ended up staying at the same hotel as Bernard, Fran and Manny. And we all had been drinking the tiny bottles of hard liquor they serve on airplanes... Not that I'm proud of this, but there's a good chance that I Frenched both Fran and Bernard.
And I most definitely slept with Manny. Again.
Shit.
So, there I was, back on a plane, with Bert sitting in the seat in front of me and Elle sitting across the aisle, chugging a bottle of wine with an older woman glaring at her.
"Elle," I whispered. She didn't hear me. "Elle!" I hissed louder.
She raised an eyebrow at me as her head wobbled and fell over onto her right shoulder. "Wot?"
"Give me that."
Elle frowned and shoved the bottle at me. The older woman nodded in thanks. I smiled and took a few gulps of wine before handing the bottle back to Elle. The older woman looked not amused.
I didn't care though. I'd been on 11 different planes in 11 different countries in the past week and I was sick of it. Besides, no one needed to ever, ever go on a plane sober. It's just not right.
Our plane landed. I dragged my bag (I'd started this trip with two bags, actually.) behind me as Elle and Bert followed.
Bert winced. "Where are we?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a hairy Irishman and a troll. Why do we keep seeing them?!
"Bernard! Manny!" I shouted from across the crowded airport. "Fran!"
Manny looked at me, blushed and gave a little wave.
Elle, who was pissed by this time, slumped herself against a wall and closed her eyes. "Where the bloody fuck are we?"
"Heathrow," Manny said.
Elle opened one eye. "...Really?"
Fran nodded. She didn't look exactly sober herself.
"Thank God," Bert said. He gave Bernard the up-and-down look. "Why are you in a skirt?"
As agreed, we took separate cabs home and arrived in Bloomsbury at the same time. It was raining hard when we stepped out of the cab and it was actually comforting. We were definitely back in London.
While Bernard and Manny squirmed inside of the back window of Black Books, Bert, Elle and I just went in through the front door. Bert tossed himself onto the sofa... and then bolted upright.
"Guys."
Elle threw a book at him. "Bert, pack your things. I never want to see you again. And you can tell your mother thank you for a week of plane-traveling hell."
"No, guys. Look." He pointed out the window and wandered out of the store, wide-eyed at the horrid sight now sitting across the street, situated right beside Black Books.
"Elle," I said quietly, but firmly. "Come outside."
The three of us stood in the street, in the rain and stared.
Illuminated by a bright, neon sign were the words "Goliath Books" with "Books, Books, Books" written in the windows in bright white print. Standing in front of the store was Bernard, Manny and Fran, looking as horrified as we did.
Elle didn't say a word. She just closed her eyes and stumbled back inside.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
She sighed and looked at her feet. "I'm going on holiday."
(Readers: Thank you for reading our little fanfiction thus far. We, the writers, are starting college shortly and may not have time to update this for a while. Stay tuned, because we very well might be back!)
"Make the noise stop!"
I hadn't even bothered looking up from my book, as I expertly kicked Bert's chair from under the desk. He glared at me reproachfully. Ever since the bugger threw out my fags, I haven't bothered to be polite to him.
"It'll be over soon, Elle." Elise had been trying to reason with me since the infernal noise began yesterday.
"Why don't we do something? I'm bored to death," Bert complained. I looked up from my book.
"Why don't you go an see when the noise will stop?!" I yelled over the drilling.
"But I don't - " Bert was cut off by the sounds of the world collapsing. Elise yelled a bit over the noise and finally Bert did go out to see when it would finally stop.
"The foreman said - " Bert began when he came back, but was cut off by the drilling noise across the street. After some failed attempts of communication, we relocated to a cafe further up the street, and Bert was finally able to tell us what he'd been told.
"He said they'd break for lunch soon, but after that it's going to get much worse," he said, sipping from a cappicino, creating a foamy moustache on his upper lip.
"Well, what if we go do something. It is Sunday, isn't it?" Elise asked. I knew exactly what she had in mind, and I sure it didn't invlove Bert and I.
"Yes?" Bert replied eagerly.
"So why don't we go to the park?"
"The park?" I asked, gobsmacked. "Why would you even suggest that?"
"What if we went to see a film?" Bert asked, clearly steering the conversation to safer waters. He picked up a discarded paper from the table. "How about this one? 'London Fog.' Michael Caine. A used car salesman must race against the clock to find the next victim of a Jack the Ripper-esque killer from-"
"No, no," I groaned, ripping the paper out of his hands. "What's this? 'The Dangerous Six.' Nicole Kidman, Natalie Portman, Penelope Cruz...blah blah...Six women who went boldly where no other women had gone in the Age of the Flappers.' What rubbish is this?" I demanded, as Elise took the paper away from me.
"How about this one? 'Green Sounds.' Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen with Mos Def," she read.
"Oh, they're cute. Well, pre-rehab cute, I suppose," Bert replied. I snorted.
"'A different POV from the new release, 'Blue's Tunes', this movie works from the side of sisters Sadie and Sabrina Green, rival music shop owners to that of Leonard Blue. With the help of their drag queen assitant, Lady ZaZa..." Elise paused for some sort of dramatic affect (giving Bert enough time to giggle to himself), "..the twins attempt to undermine Blue's Tunes and deal with their own personal issues. From yelling matches between Sadie and Leonard, the love/hate relationship of Sabrina and Danny and the off-hand comments from Lady ZaZa, things are sure to be sizzling for this end of the summer's blockbuster!' Pfft."
"Wankers," I replied.
"As if that could come anywhere close to being like real life!" Bert exclaimed.
"A child could write better!" Elise added, throwing down the paper in disgust. "They can't even come up with a good idea, they just feed off of pre-existing ideas, all laid out for them."
"Fill-in-the-blanks," I replied.
"Exactly!"
"I wonder how good Mos Def looks in drag?" Bert mused.
We trooped back to the shop, unsuccessful. The noise had stopped briefly, so we were debating going out for dinner. Finally after arguing over where we should go, we got ready to leave.
"I'll just run out and grab my purse from the car!" Bert said, running out of the shop quickly.
I looked to Elise and was about to ask, when she replied, "Penny's."
Bert came running back in in a headlong sprint. He was waving an envolpe around and jibbering at the same time, making absolutely no sense. Not that he usually does anyways.
"Fix him, would you?" I growled. Elise nodded and slapped him on the face.
"There's a sign, Elle! A sign!"
"They've finally found and have decided to come take you back to your home planet?" I asked, grabbing my purse out from under the desk.
"No, no! It's says they're building across the street for the next 2 weeks! What'll we do?" he exclaimed, doing a panicky dance. Elise looked at me wide-eyed.
"We'll...we'll drink heavily.....shout at each other to drown out the sound!" I replied, realizing as I said it, how completely foolish that sounded.
"Well we won't be able to hear you, will we?" Elise shouted, as the noise began again.
"Wait! Wait! Why don't we go away?" Bert exclaimed suddenly.
"No! Absolutely not! I'm not going anywhere!" I replied, yelling louder, to be heard over the noise.
"It's a perfect excuse!" Elise agreed with him.
"And my mother just left 3 plane tickets to Sant Onaray in Penny's car as an early birthday present for meeee!"
"Shut up, where's the sign?" I asked, pushing Bert out of my way.
"Are you sure they're for you?" Elise asked skeptically as I stepped out the door, into the pouring rain. I watched Bernard beat the sign with an umbrella before venturing over. I ran across the street to where a little old woman was starring at the broken umbrella and tenner in her hands.
"'S'cuse me." I pushed her out my way to the sign. I read it quickly. Twice.
Elle was in a particularly bad mood when I came home from yoga with Bert.
"Oh, Christ, now you're on drugs too?!" she exclaimed, tossing a book at me.
"Yoga has nothing to do with drugs." I smiled and exhaled slowly. "It's like having sunshine in your veins."
"I read an article about the stuff- it's very dangerous," Elle said. "Listen to you, you're becoming one of them. You're going over to the other side. The land of sandals, spoon-benders and yogurt fanciers."
"Don't be ridiculous, Elle. I think Elise looks fab," Bert said. "She's the most flexible person in the whole class."
I grinned. There was a reason for that. And his name is Ben.
Since Leo and I had quietly decided to break up (we both found out we were shagging other people), I had been seeing various men. My relationship with Leo was the longest one I'd had since middle school and I felt tied down (even when I was being tied down by someone who was not Leo). So, I had been taking advantage of my new-found freedom and seeing as many men as possible.
And Ben, our yoga instructor, had become my new playmate.
We'd gone out for drinks at a trendy juice bar after my first class and that night I found out exactly how flexible I could be. It was crazy. And because Ben is fantastic and wonderful and everything a man should be, we decided to keep things casual. He can see other women and I can see other men. And things are going brilliantly.
I leaned against Elle's desk. "So, have you thought about where you'd like to go for our little vacation?"
"Yes, actually," Elle said, sitting up straight in her chair. "I have spent hours and hours thinking about where we should go and I've made a decision."
"Wow," I said, "you must really have had a change of heart. So, where would you like to go?"
"To the pub across the street. And no further."
After yoga class the next day, Bert and I were just strolling in the park, both of us feeling very relaxed. Him, because he honestly enjoyed yoga and I, because I'd just had a quickie with Ben in his office while Bert was changing out of his unitard.
"If I were any more relaxed, you could just pour me into a bowl," Bert said. He looked at me. "You've given up smoking, haven't you?"
"Of course, I have," I said. That statement was almost true. I'd stopped smoking completely... besides post-coital cigarettes, but that's different.
We headed back to the shop and noticed a sign being put up across the street from Whyte Books, right beside Black Books.
And that's when the noise started.
"Hey Elle," Elise yelled half-way across the self.
"Wot?" I replied, hardly bothering to look up at her from the book I was trying to read. She bounded over to my desk and plopped herself into the chair next to me.
"I've been thinking..." she started, propping her elbows up on the desk, while resting her chin on her knuckles.
"That's dangerous to your health."
"... and I believe I've decided what to do with the rest of the money you gave me for Chrimbo," she finished, barely even taking notice that I had insulted her.
She still hasn't spent all the damn money?
I sighed heavily, slammed my book shut and plucked a cigarette out of the open package on the desk.
"An' wot's that?" I asked, leaning forward as she lit the ciggy for me.
"We'll go on holiday! The three of us! No customers, no creatures, no... no competition; no nothing," she replied, looking hard at me for a facial response. She didn't get one. "Anyways, I've been looking at websites and visiting travelling agencies..."
"What about the shop?" I asked suddenly, surprising myself a little.
"Oh, we could get Penny to look after it or something. Anyways..."
"Ah, yes, Penny," I replied, uncertainly.
Who in the name of Beezlebub's shorts is Penny?
Ten minutes later, Elise was showing me pamphlets of holiday destinations, while I was still trying to think of who the hell Penny was.
"This place here would be perfect! See here, it says there's a beach, a jungle and the only English bookshop...," she began to say, when Bert burst in the front door, startling customers with his flashy tracksuit.
"You'll never believe who's in my yoga class!" he blurted, sitting himself down daintily in the chair in front of the desk.
He didn't even give me time to reply. Lousy bugger. "Fran!" he exclaimed, slapping his hands down on the desktop, making Elise, myself and the computer moniter jump at the same time. He glanced between the two of us, waiting for a reply.
"Ahh, that's g-," was all Elise got out before the walking disco ball leant over the desk and plucked the cigarette right out of my mouth and dropped it into my glass of wine.
"What the HELL is wrong with you?!" I yelled, grabbing the glass.
"Smoking and drinking is really bad for you. Your chakras are all over the place, Elle! You need to relax and..."
"Your chakras are to be hanging out your nose if you try that again!" I growled at him. He looked slightly startled, but that didn't stop him from continuing his preaching.
"Penny and Eva said that...," he began, but I had had it.
"Just who the bleedin' hell is Penny?!" I shouted, thumping the glass back down on the desk, sloshing ashy wine all over my book and some of Elise's pamphlets.
"Penny's his girlfriend," Elise informed me, gathering up the pamphlets that weren't soggy and attempting to salvage the ones that were.
"Girlfriend?" I echoed.
"Yeh," Bert replied, smoothing out the front of his tracksuit. "She's a bartender at the club I work at."
"Oooooo, Penny. Penny. Penny Penny Henny."
"Come on Elle, you're being childish."
"Am not."
"I think if you tried yoga, you may be able to see the lighter side of life," Bert stated, smugly.
"I'm not trying your yogi," I retorted, picking up my book and shaking it.
"Yo-ga."
"That neither."
"Let me get this straight," Inspector O'Hoolihan said in a thick Irish accent, peering at us all from under his hat. "This guy ran in, put a knife to 'dis here guy's troate, 'dis here lady hit 'im over d'head wid dis here fryin' pan and dats how 'e died."
Elle, Bert, Fran and I all exchanged looks. "Yes, sir."
Maybe the irony was lost on everyone else, but I found it quite amusing that this member of England's Scotland Yard was Irish.
"And wot about 'deese here marks on 'is nipples? Wot is that all aboot?" He raised an eyebrow, specifically at Bert.
"...Why do you look at me when you say that?" Bert retorted.
I cleared my throat. "I used to have this friend who would pinch his nipples. He did it all the time. I guess it's a kind of confidence builder." I nodded wisely and pretended I knew exactly what I was talking about- I didn't.
Fran, who was quite drunk, asked if she could leave and take her car back across the street. Inspector O'Hoolihan nodded and she stumbled off.
After the Inspector and the rest of the policemen (and the coroner) left, I slumped down at the kitchen table and put my head down. "Guys. Let's not do that again."
Bert rested his face in his palm. "Agreed." His eyes lowered to his own chest. "Excuse me, I have to go do something."
"Where's he going?" Elle asked me, leaning against the counter.
"I'm almost positive he's going to his room to pinch his nipples."
"Wouldn't doubt it."
I rolled my head to the side. "So, Elle, you still want to have a bistro, even though it might cause us to kill somebody again?"
Elle dug around in the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. "I was saving this for after we had our grand opening... but this is as good a time as any." She guzzled from the bottle and slid it across the kitchen table to me.
I looked at the label. "Wow. Fifteen quid." I nodded in approval. "So fancy." I took a few big gulps.
And then a few more. And then Elle had several more.
I woke up the next morning in a puddle of my own vomit... but at least it was in my home and not prison.
Completely satisfied that that little shock of juice should have at least jolted the health inspector, I was getting out of the car when I heard Elise scream.
I ran inside in time to see the Health Inspector holding one of my kitchen knives to Bert's throat. So maybe it wasn't Elise who screamed...?
"Wot the SODDING HELL- ?!" I shouted, but was interrupted by the HI. Honestly I expected him to start grunting like Frankenstein's monster, but I guess that was the second surprise I had that night.
"I want you to empty your till and give me all the money you've got and anything else that might fetch a hefty price, or I'll slit your girlfriend's pretty little neck," he said, his voice low and dangerous as a sligtly demented smile played on his face. Actually, it was completely demented.
And to improve to situation even better, Elise started laughing hysterically.
"Fat chance you've got! There isn't a cent in that till!" she snorted. I tried to give her a you're-definitely-not helping look, but that made her laugh even more.
The HI started to look nervous.
"Right, wot's it gona be, give me the money, or your friend here get's it." Bert stopped whimpering for a brief second to add his two cents worth.
"Just for the record, in case you do decide to kill me, I am a bloke."
"Bert. Not helping," I replied. Bert shot me pained look, as the HI shook him and held the blade closer to his neck.
And then the crashing in the shop started. I suddenly remembered that Bernard had implied that he would actually come to see what we would put up for "competetancy" and thought that is was him and Manny making their path of destruction to the kitchen.
"Bernard, don't come in here!" I yelled. I made a move for the doorway, but the HI actually pressed the blade against Bert's neck, who was making a brave effort not to cry.
The answer that came back surprised me. I was really starting to hate, I mean really hate, surprises.
"Bernard's not fucking well here!" yelled Fran, appearing at the doorway. "And I need my car!" We all turned to stare at her. "Oo's 'e?" she demanded, before what was going on registered.
Everything after that happened really quickly. Honestly, I didn't know Fran could move as fast as she did.
She suddenly bent down, grabbed my discarded pan and hit the Health Inspector over the head before he could react (probably a side effect from being brought back from the dead). After he and Bert went down, Fran was about to scream for her car, so I just kind of pointed dumbly out the back door. She ran out and we were left with a dead guy.
Again.
While Bert was crying on the floor, I called Scotland Yard to tell them that we had just been attacked in our book shop cum bistro.
"You are completely mad, aren't you?" I said, staring into the kitchen, duffel bag in hand. "Who do you think you are, Dr. Frankenstein?!"
Elle didn't even look up from her weird little science project, holding the ends of a jumper cable in each hand. "YES!!" Her eyes were wild with excitement and she held the jumper cables in the air. "They said it couldn't be done but-"
"Exactly where are you going to put those?" Bert asked, looking truly afraid for his life.
I rolled my eyes. Elle is such a freak. Bert will never shag her now that he's afraid of her... Of course, he's so kinky, maybe he likes being scared... Oh, God. Very bad image in my brain. Ew. Get out, evil image, get out!
Elle thought for a moment. She suddenly ripped open the health inspector's shirt and attached the jumper cables to the man's nipples. She stood back, admiring her work.
"You're gross," I said.
Bert frowned. "Do you know how much that's going to hurt?"
Elle glared at him. "Wot?! You've had jumper cables attached to your nipples, have you?!"
Bert looked sideways. "No..."
Her eyes narrowed. "Besides, if he's truly dead, this won't hurt a bit!" She looked at me. "Ellie, go start the car outside."
I blinked at her. "Wot?"
"Go start the car! Juice 'er on up!" She waited, shaking with anticipation. "WELL, COME ON THEN!!"
"No," I said firmly. "That man is dead. I'm not going to help you make him even deader than he already is, okay? Bert and I agreed that we would call the cops and save ourselves."
Elise's eyes grew wide. "Wot?" She looked at Bert. "Is that true?"
Bert bit his lip. "Well, you see, it's complicated but then, of course, everything in life is complicated..." He stared at the floor. "Yes. Yes, that's what we plan to do."
Elise didn't say another word. She just stormed outside, got into the car and started it. The body of the health inspector shook as power from the car motor entered his body.
And, as if we were in a bloody horror novel, his eyes flashed open.
Well, wouldn’t you be mad?
I mean, who carries a bleeding flask full of water, for Christ’s sake?
Anyroad, I stormed out of the shop, thinking desperately what I could do. Who dies from a blow to the back of the head, anyways? He was probably just in a coma, I kept telling myself.
I ran into Black's Books to see if Fran was there. And she was. Standing next to Manny. Who was standing in a box that had sign over it, which read, "Information Point."
"Fran!" I exclaimed, tripping and crashing around chairs and tables. "Fran! I need to borrow your car!" Fran and Manny looked at in between large swigs of wine, straight from the bottle. "What are you doing?"
"Bernard wants empty wine bottles to stick candles in," Manny explained.
"Can't you buy those?" I asked, momentarily forgetting about the crisis in my kitchen.
"What do need my car for?" Fran asked, slightly frowning.
"Long story," I replied. "Do you have jump cables?" I asked, having a stroke of genius suddenly hit me, but nothing registered on Fran's face.
"The ones that look like alligators?" I asked.
"Oh, yeah, yeah," Fran replied, nodding her head. "You're not going to be long - "
"No, no. Just...give keys," I answered huriedly, sticking my hand out expectantly. As soon as Fran had them out of her pocket, I swiped them in mid-air and ran back out of the shop to her car out front.
I not going to lie and say that I'm a good driver, because I'm not. And the amount of wine I had before hand probably wasn't helping. Let's just say there aren't any dustbins left in the back street that don't have dents in them.
I managed to get the car at least near our garden. I dragged the cables out of the boot, through our gate and in through the kitchen door, just in time to see Bert pounding numbers furiously on his mobile.
"Wot you doin'?" I asked, dragging the cables to our comatose friend on the floor. Bert looked up in surprise, fumbled with his mobile and drop it on the floor. He looked at me a swallowed soundly.
I glared at him before saying, "Give us a hand." Bert glanced between me, the Health Inspector and the shop door. "C'mon," I urged him, grabbing a hold of the man's legs, just above his ankles.
Bert managed to help me put him up on the kitchen table. He's not very strong. You would think he was from the looks of his "muscle tone," but Bert's really quite pathetic. Elise and I have carried men twice as heavy as that beanpole between us, and not had one problem.
After I had hooked the cables up to the car battery, I came back inside, getting ready to attach the other end of the cables to the Health Inspector's index fingers, when Elise appearred at the shop doorway, holding a duffle bag in each hand.
"Where're you off to?" I asked.
"Whadd'ya doin'?" she demaned.
You know, I'm sure if it worked for Dr. Frankenstein with lightning, it'll work the same for us. Just with more power.
That's it. We're all going to prison for murder. I'm going to be put in a cell with some large, butch lesbionic-type woman named "Chuck" and she's going to make me her plaything. Poor Bert. He looks like a woman half the time as it is! He won't last a second in prison!
And it's all Elle's fault.
"Great," I said, putting a hand on my jutted out hip. "Just great. You've just gone and ruined my day."
Bert frowned. "Uhhh... I think that guy's day is going a little worse... as he's dead now."
Elle just rolled her eyes. "He's not dead. See?" She propped him up against the stove and waved his hand around like some kind of ventriloquist. She even dared make a Monty Python reference, using a different voice and speaking from the corner of her mouth. "I'm not yet dead! I think I'll go for a walk!"
I glared at her. "Bugger off, Elle. That's not even funny."
Bert snickered. "...Well, it was a bit funny-"
I gave him a stern look. He stopped snickering.
"What are we going to do?" I asked, glancing from Elle to Bert. "What are we going to do?!"
Elle grinned. "Stuff him into Bernard's trash bin and call the police?"
Possibly...
"No!" I exclaimed. "That would make things worse, not better."
Elle knelt down to get a closer look at our newly-bludgeoned corpse friend. Then, without notice, she reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a wallet, a silver flask and a pack of fags. She tossed the fags at me, gave the wallet to Bert and kept the flask for herself.
She pointed at me. "You. Go smoke. You always think better when you're calmed down." She nodded at Bert. "You go give Fran some cash, as we'll likely need to use her new car for a few minutes."
"...Well," he said, "what are you going to do with the flask?"
"Get stinking pissed." She unscrewed the cap and took a swig. She winced as the taste hit the bank of her throat. "Water!" she exclaimed. "Are you fucking kidding me?!?!" She grabbed the wallet back from Bert, grabbed a tenner, threw the wallet on the floor and stormed out. I can only assume she was heading to the pub down the street.
I was on the verge of tears. I'd never been involved in a murder before... Well, once before but I didn't feel so guilty the last time. This man was innocent, just doing his job. And Elle killed him.
...Maybe Bert and I wouldn't have to go to prison for something Elle did...?
No. She's your sister. You can't just turn her in!
Bert grabbed a fag from me, rummaged around in the cupboard for some matches and lit up. I think he thought having a fag might calm his nerves. He ended up puking into the sink.
"Bert, honey, this would not be a good time to take up smoking for the first time."
He wiped his mouth. "I believe you're right."
I lit up and blew smoke up into the air above my head. "Bert," I said. "What are we going to do?"
"We have to turn ourselves in. Or, rather, Elle," he said. "It's the only way."
Perhaps he had a point.
Ha!
Bernard thinks he can just open a restaurant/coffee shop! It's not that easy, trust me! I had to actually get my own chef's hat. Okay, maybe steal is a better word. Besides, I'm sure the restaurant next door won't miss it all that much.
Anyways, after he knifed one of the things and stormed out screaming for his bearded bitch, Bert decided to sail in with ingredients. He dropped the paper bags on the counter and Elise, being a nosy parker, dove right in a started pulling everything out, with the usual, "What's this?" and "What's that?"
I have to admit, I was amazed.
"Where did you - how did you know what to get?" I asked Bert, slightly awed, as he stowed some things in the fridge.
"My cousin's a chef at a restaurant in Westminster and he helped me a bit," Bert shrugged. "It's nothin' special." He shrugged like it was nothing.
Later, after we had argued over the menu and had a little to drink, Bert and Elise were getting ready for opening around half-four, I was in the kitchen (with my pilfered hat), trying to start making everything and fighting with my apron. Bert suddenly appeared at kitchen door, looking a little bewildered.
"What? What is it?" I asked, slightly annoyed. I was still a little mad that Elise was making me wear an uniform even though no one would ever see me. Hopefully.
"There's a - a bloke here to see you," he replied, gesturing to someone I couldn't see over his shoulder.
"Who's it then?" I asked impatiently. Then some bloke wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a mac, carrying a briefcase swung around into the kitchen and said, "I'm the Health Inspector."
"I'm quaking in my boots," I replied. "What do you want?" Bert disappeared as the Health Inspector skulked over to the counter and slammed his briefcase down before poping it open.
"Did you, or did you not, Miss Whyte, apply for a transition of business from novel merchant to food serving establishment?"
"Yeh, but -"
"And you did recieve a licence to serve food in your establishment?"
"Yeh, but -"
"Do not interrupt me, Miss Whyte," he replied, pointing a finger in my face. He had a clip board and pen ready. He looked around, scowling at the mess I had already made in my attempts to make a cake and marinate meat at the same time.
He was about to ask me something, when one of those creatures ran out from under the kitchen table, slammed into the back door, skittered around and headed into the shop, which was followed by a squeal from Elise.
"What was that, Miss Whyte?"
"Our dog?"
"I'm quite certain dogs don't have beaks, Miss Whyte." He scribbled something down on his paper. "Where is your culinary approval certificate, or if you have it, a degree in culinary arts?" he asked, looking around.
This can't be good.
"It's right up there," I replied, pointing at a spot on the wall.
"I don't see it," he answered, craning his neck and squinting his eyes, scanning the walls, which were splattered with blood, cake batter and melted chocolate. And maybe there were a couple strawberries that I had thrown at one of those things. Maybe.
"It's waaaaayyyyy up there, you see?" I asked, reaching behind him to grab a pan as quietly as I could from the sink. "I graduated from the Culinary School of Excellence with a degree in Excellent -"
"I've never heard of that college; where is it-" THONK. I had smacked him on the back of the head with the pan, just as he was about to turn around.
Bert and Elise came running.
"Oh my GOD, Elle! You killed the Health Inspector!" Elise accused me.
I so did not.
