Sunday November 2nd, 2014

The exercise:

Write about: the service.

With some help from Max and Kat, I finally managed to get the garlic planted this morning. It's a little on the late side, but garlic is hardy stuff so I'm hoping to get away with it. A few more weeks before freeze up would also help, but I'm not holding my breath on that one.

Thanks to the clocks falling back an hour last night we're back to the season of Max going to bed early. It's nice to have our evenings back.

Now if we can just convince him to sleep in an extra hour in the mornings...


"I'd say we're in agreement on all the particulars, yes?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so..."

"Then let us settle on a price and then we can, at long last, proceed!"

"Er... I don't know... maybe we-"

"Is there a problem?"


"Or should I say, another problem monsieur?"

"Sorry. It's just that money is real tight these days. I should probably talk to my wife about this first."

"Honey, please. If you could talk to your wife about this sort of thing then you wouldn't be in need of the services I have to offer."


Greg said...

Ah, I've been appreciating these few weeks where your clocks are still wrong (I can see the Greenwich Meridian laser from my flat in the evenings, so I'm quite happy saying that). Max will start sleeping longer eventually... just wait about 12 years :-D
Heh, I wasn't sure what was coming in your dialogue today, but you didn't disappoint! I do like the way everything is implied and nothing is openly spoken, yet we have no doubts as to the nature of the transaction... the service being discussed!

The service
"Oh, that was lovely dear, definitely one of the best I've attended this year!" The woman, probably middle-aged for all she was dressed like someone ten years younger, patted Connor's hand.
"I'm sorry?" He was dressed somberly and his pale hands were still shaking. The doctor had said that it was the effects of shock and stress and that it was only natural. Then he'd prescribed pills that cost $40 each, which Connor felt had only added to the shock and stress. "Actually, I don't think I recognise you," he continued.
"Annabel, dear. I was talking about the service, it was beautiful. Moving even. When the minister got down on his knees and banged his head against the coffin, wailing like a banshee, I almost got up and joined in."
"I don't think I know an Annabel." Connor shifted uncomfortably and his shoes squeaked. He wore them perhaps twice a year, to funerals and weddings, so it was no surprise they still felt like they were new. The minister had been far too dramatic for his liking, and he was determined not to tip the man. "Did you know Jacqui then? And, wait. How many services do you go to in a year?"
"In a manner of speaking, dear, yes. And well, I try to get to most of them. Sometimes things get in the way though, or they're held too far apart."
"Yes, I can imagine that would be a strain," said Connor. He could see the minister approaching and his hands were shaking more badly now. "Hang on, sorry. What?"
"You seem upset, love," said Annabel. She patted his arm, and he noticed that her hands were stone cold.
"What do you mean, all of them? Too far apart?"
"Oh love," sighed Annabel. "Well, whenever I cause another traffic accident I try and get to all the services for the victims. This is number..." she checked a little notebook she drew from an inside pocket, "... number 428. And definitely the best I've been to this year."
"It's only March," said Connor thinly.

Anonymous said...

“There you go, come again.”
Man. 60s. Grey hair. Goatee. Blue shirt. Jeans. Brown shoes. He hands me the ticket. Stamped.
“There you go, come again.”
Woman. 30s. Red hair. Short. Thin eyebrows. Red blouse. Jeans. Knee-high boots. She hands me the ticket. Stamped.
“There you go, come again.”
Woman. 40s. Long black hair. Curly. Small eyes. Red lips. Red cheeks. Cheetah dress. Nude heels. She hands me the ticket. Stamped.
“There you go, come again.”
Is it 5 yet?

Marc said...

Greg - I cannot wait that long :/

I'm glad you liked mine. I wasn't sure if I was being obvious enough, but I also wanted to avoid over doing it. Glad to see it worked out as is.

Well, Annabel certainly is... dedicated? And also dangerous, it would seem!

Ivybennet - you've managed to capture the horrible boredom of the job while also picking out just the right details to paint a pretty good picture of each customer. That's nice work!