I can only hope you're not going on holiday just before the house move....
At the airport The queue for the security checkpoint was quiet at this time of the morning; there were only a few security guards in evidence and they looked slightly sleepy and just a little bit grumpy, as though being up this early to inspect people's baggage and tell them to take their shoes off was an imposition. For Des, the Presiding Religious Authority, it was an imposition. He tried hard not to sigh as he saw the grey rectangular plastic trays on the little rolling-bar conveyor belt ahead of him, and he heard actual sighs from his two deputies behind him. They were large, tall men with plenty of muscles, bright eyes, and movements as lithe and secretive as a cat and tended to get mistaken for bodyguards. Which they didn't mind, and sometimes helped Des out, so they all accepted it as one of those things. Des removed keys, wallet and boarding pass from his pockets and set them in a tray. His jacket, neatly folded, went next to it, and then in a second tray he placed his rucksack, and watched them trundle into the X-ray machine. Then he stepped through the metal detector, which stayed mercifully silent, and waited on the other side. He had nearly 90 minutes before the flight, so he relaxed a little and waited. His bodyguards joined him without fuss, and they waited. All three of them waited, and then finally a security guard came over carrying the tray with Des's rucksack in. "This yours?" he said. Des looked carefully around the empty checkpoint, and then at his deputies, and then finally shrugged. "It can't be anyone else's," he said. "Don't get smart with me." "I'd like it if you got smart with me," said Des calmly. "Because this particular variety of stupid isn't working." The security guard tilted the tray and Des's rucksack fell out. Although the ground was only a metre away, something cracked when it hit it. "Butterfingers," said the guard. "Pick that--" His voice cut off as the rucksack, surrounded by a faint glow, lifted itself off the ground and floated back into the tray. "What the fu--" "You appear to have shattered a vial of water from the Illinois Public Water Fountain," said Des. "Which has been the site of several reported miracles lately, and which, as Presiding Religious Authority, I have been tasked with investigating and understanding." "Whu?" Behind the guard the other guards were starting to look much more alert, and the fastest was looking at Des's boarding pass. "That's quite an expensive mistake to make," continued Des. His deputies shifted, settling their centres of gravity. "Although I think the cameras here will demonstrate capably that it was deliberate." "Nuh-uh." The guard had gone pale, and behind him the other guards were talking frantically into telephones and walkie-talkies. "It's a bit like you deciding to strip search the Pope in public," said one of Des's deputies. "It's your right, of course, and we wouldn't stop you, but is it a good idea?" "Especially considering you're doing it in the eyes of whatever god you believe in," said the other. Des smiled. "I can intercede on your behalf," he said, smiling paternally. "In either direction, of course."
2 comments:
I can only hope you're not going on holiday just before the house move....
At the airport
The queue for the security checkpoint was quiet at this time of the morning; there were only a few security guards in evidence and they looked slightly sleepy and just a little bit grumpy, as though being up this early to inspect people's baggage and tell them to take their shoes off was an imposition.
For Des, the Presiding Religious Authority, it was an imposition. He tried hard not to sigh as he saw the grey rectangular plastic trays on the little rolling-bar conveyor belt ahead of him, and he heard actual sighs from his two deputies behind him. They were large, tall men with plenty of muscles, bright eyes, and movements as lithe and secretive as a cat and tended to get mistaken for bodyguards. Which they didn't mind, and sometimes helped Des out, so they all accepted it as one of those things.
Des removed keys, wallet and boarding pass from his pockets and set them in a tray. His jacket, neatly folded, went next to it, and then in a second tray he placed his rucksack, and watched them trundle into the X-ray machine. Then he stepped through the metal detector, which stayed mercifully silent, and waited on the other side. He had nearly 90 minutes before the flight, so he relaxed a little and waited.
His bodyguards joined him without fuss, and they waited.
All three of them waited, and then finally a security guard came over carrying the tray with Des's rucksack in.
"This yours?" he said.
Des looked carefully around the empty checkpoint, and then at his deputies, and then finally shrugged. "It can't be anyone else's," he said.
"Don't get smart with me."
"I'd like it if you got smart with me," said Des calmly. "Because this particular variety of stupid isn't working."
The security guard tilted the tray and Des's rucksack fell out. Although the ground was only a metre away, something cracked when it hit it.
"Butterfingers," said the guard. "Pick that--" His voice cut off as the rucksack, surrounded by a faint glow, lifted itself off the ground and floated back into the tray. "What the fu--"
"You appear to have shattered a vial of water from the Illinois Public Water Fountain," said Des. "Which has been the site of several reported miracles lately, and which, as Presiding Religious Authority, I have been tasked with investigating and understanding."
"Whu?"
Behind the guard the other guards were starting to look much more alert, and the fastest was looking at Des's boarding pass.
"That's quite an expensive mistake to make," continued Des. His deputies shifted, settling their centres of gravity. "Although I think the cameras here will demonstrate capably that it was deliberate."
"Nuh-uh." The guard had gone pale, and behind him the other guards were talking frantically into telephones and walkie-talkies.
"It's a bit like you deciding to strip search the Pope in public," said one of Des's deputies. "It's your right, of course, and we wouldn't stop you, but is it a good idea?"
"Especially considering you're doing it in the eyes of whatever god you believe in," said the other.
Des smiled. "I can intercede on your behalf," he said, smiling paternally. "In either direction, of course."
Greg - there's nowhere to holiday to, these days. Also: no.
I like Des and his not bodyguards. They seem like they have plenty of interesting adventures!
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