The MacLamity

The News That Stays News, Reported Live

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

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Here's the opening to a story that I wrote in a dream last night, before my cellphone's alarm woke me:
My mother saw out of the kitchen window the Ocke and Keyes van arrive and opened it to hear what the man stepping out of it was saying.

"Mrs. M! I'm here for the inspection of the alarm system. All routine. I'm Mr. Ocke. I brought along some others to help. All routine, as I say."

Some men appeared around the van's corner. They looked like rugby players. They clustered behind Mr. Ocke randomly and didn't seem to know where to look. Their hands were big and hairy.

"Mr. Keyes would normally do it of course," said Mr. Ocke. "I'm more the back-office type in the firm. The name of the company was his idea, in fact. The pun, I'm not sure it works myself. He should have gone into business with John Locke. Ha ha. So if you'll just let us in."

My mother, quite rightly I felt, wasn't going to do that. She muttered something that I can't remember now, but it was reassuring. I was afraid of the men and I was relieved to see that my fear was shared by an adult. She went to the back door, held the handle, wedged her foot into the bottom crack and leant hard against the door's opaque glass. I wondered how easy it would be to smash the glab and drag her through and whether there'd be pieces left in the frame which would plough through her back.

Outside, one of the men's cell phones rang.