Sunday October 23rd, 2016

The exercise:

Write about: the spa treatment.

Feeling pretty tired and sleepy, so I'll just get right to that writing thing.

Edit: sorry for the late posting again. After repeatedly losing my battle with sleep last night, I just decided to give up and go to bed.


"There must be some mistake..."

"You're here for your 3:22 appointment?"

"Yes, but I don't understand what all this stuff is about."

"The knives, forks, spoons, rolling pin...? They are all standard pieces of equipment for the culinary massage you ordered."

"I ordered no such thing!"

"It says right here, Mr. Hiller, that you wan-"

"I'm not Mr. Hiller."

"You... oh! My apologies Mr... Winston?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"Ah, well then! We'll have all this taken right away and have the garden tool suite in its place in a jiffy!"

"Well, I should hope so."


Greg said...

I hope you slept well :)
Hmm, the odd time of the appointment had me hunting for something else for a while, but then it all started to make sense once the garden tools came into the picture! Well, maybe not quite. This is a beautifully surreal scene and feels like it could easily have been inspired by a dream. I rather like the slightly huffy tone the customer takes at the end as well!

The spa treatment
The Gellert hotel was magnificent:its huge stone walls towered over Bill and Ben as they stepped out of the taxi, with the red blinds at the window pulling out the natural colours of the stone. Copper domes surmounted the corners of the hotel, their green matched by the vividness of the lawns and trees. The taxi driver sped off as soon as the rear doors closed, and Bill looked at Ben slightly crossly.
"If we'd had luggage," he said, "it would now be minutes away from being sold on the black market."
"We're in Hungary, not the third world," said Ben. "Did you pay him, by the way?"
"Couldn't understand a word he was staying."
They went into the hotel, Ben shaking his head in disbelief at Bill's bad humour. Which was not improved by the vast lobby, the stunningly beautiful art deco furnishings, the long red banquettes where entire coachloads of people could sit waiting to be dismissed from the hotel, and the twenty-foot tall marble statue in the fountain in the middle of it all.
"I feel like I'm back in the 1920s," said Bill. "All we need is a cocaine-addled flapper, a moustachioed lesbian and a circus dwarf and I'll believe we're at the Moulin Rouge."
"Speaking of moustachioed lesbians," said Ben, "where is our henchman?"
"Paris," said Bill. "At the Petit Opera house. Remember the furniture in the booby-trapped box? I've set her to work on it."
"I thought he was a him?"
They looked at each other for a few moments. "Does it matter?"
"Do we offer health insurance?"
They shared a moment of laughter, walking past the bemused receptionist and through the doors that led to the world-famous spa.

"Royalty bathed here, you know," said Bill. They were stood on white and red tiled floors, and golden railings descended down marble steps into a pool heated to near-body temperature. Blue and gold mosaics on the wall added to the opulence of the room, and the pool was (once again) surmounted by a fountain and statue; this time a cherub who appeared to be presiding. "They say Queen Charlotte gave birth in this very pool. Supposedly it was a surprise to her."
Ben quirked an eyebrow. "Sounds improbable," he said.
"Gentlemen?" A tall, thin man with a patch over one eye appeared behind them and gently touched their elbows. "Are you here for a spa treatment?"
"More here to provide one," said Bill. He elbowed backwards, hard, and the tall, thin man oof-ed as his solar plexus was struck.
"Fourteen tonnes of gold in that mosaic," said Ben, conversationally. Between them they picked up the wheezing man. "The trick is getting this place closed down for long enough to replace it with yellow Play-Doh." They carried him towards the changing rooms.
"Legionnaires disease," said Bill, pulling a petri dish from his pocket. "Works a treat for situations like this."
"And you get to be patient zero!"

Marc said...

Greg - I doubt I did, but thanks anyway :P

Hah, thanks :)

Ah, it feels as though it has been a while since we've heard from Ben and Bill (and their poor henchman!). Worth the wait, I'd say. Though, perhaps the thin man would suggest otherwise...