H3 Sorry… wrong choice



A o D

She knew what he had done…..the papers told her.
She sort of knew how he had done it…..the Court case exposed a little of that.
But why had he done it………..?

…………..It was dark, and he felt wonderful. It was three days before Christmas and, as he had for several years, he was going to get a woman. He limited himself, with women, to the Holy Days around Christmas in December, Ash Wednesday in February, Good Friday in April, Ascension Day in May and then a long time to get back to Christmas. Such a long time. But the command from God and a solemn vow of obedience cannot be taken lightly and dismissed on a whim. A vow is a vow…..

He saw a woman standing at the end of the badly lit road under a dim street light. Slowing down he looked up at the ceiling in the car and made sure there was no glow from his halo and moved around in his seat to make his wings more comfortable under his jacket. Stopping by the woman he wound down the window ‘Do you use your mouth?’
‘You know……?’
‘You mean a blow job?’ Asked the twenty one year old who looked fifty, with bruises up her arm from the needle that entered far too often. In the gloom of his car, she did not see his face turn red or the anxiety invade it as he felt his wings shudder. Blow job? Blow job? Disgust filled his being. He looked at the ceiling and knew the glow from his halo had dimmed from the obscenity that stood outside the car door.
‘That all you want?’
‘Yes,’ he said quietly.
‘Nothing else?’
‘Somewhere a bit more private if you don’t mind. I’m a bit……..shy.’
‘I don’t mind. We’ll just drive down there a bit and pull over somewhere. I don’t mind’.
‘It’s fifty’ she said. It was usually twenty for a blow job but he looked desperate and so was she for another fix.
‘Half when I get in, half when I’ve finished.’
‘No more than fifteen minutes’
She got in; he fished half the money out of his pocket, gave it to her and pulled away. When he came to a quiet and deserted spot he pulled over and said ‘I have to go for a pee. I won’t be a minute’
He reached over to the back seat, clicked something in a holdall, got out of the car and went into the darkness. The hissing from the back seat confused her but crack cocaine had dulled her mind and it was far too late when she realised there was a problem. At that point the gas from the canister had rendered her unconscious….
He left it a few minutes, watching nearby to see if she moved, but she was out like a light. Going back to the car he opened the doors for a few moments to clear the gas, got in and drove off. In his head ‘The Sisters of Mercy’ by Leonard Cohen was going around but he had changed the lyrics.

Oh the Angel of Death
He has not departed or gone
He is waiting for you
When you thought it was safe to go on
He’ll bring you comfort
As he gave me the words to this song
I do hope you meet him
I know you’ve been waiting so long……

Oh……..the Angel of Death knows
You have been waiting……..so……long…….

He drove thirty miles to a dark, desolate and now deserted old industrial area and parked in the shadows. Dragged her out and across twenty yards of wet ground, her heels leaving tracks, he dropped her with a soft thud. Going back to the car he took out a child’s carry cot and placed it by her. Patting down the earth with his feet to make sure it was stable and didn’t rock he went back for the butchers’ carving knife and several small trinkets.
Seeing her take a larger intake of air he knew she was close to coming round, so he grabbed her hair and started hacking at her neck. Blood spurted as her heart continued to pump and he felt its warmth over his face. God had told him this ritual cleansed their blood and the demons within it would be made safe and harnessed within him to further the Lords aims. He continued cutting, her body convulsing until her head was completely severed then he placed it meticulously in the carrycot, bringing the warm blanket up to just over her neck and put the trinkets each side of the head. Moving away a little he knelt down and started to pray. After several minutes he got up, his trouser knees wet and with the knife carved the initials A o D in the earth.

They had worked out a long time ago that it stood for Angel of Death but had missed the main point, that of Anno Domini, the coming of Our Lord. And in a few days, it was The Coming of our Lord…….
And he, like the Three Wise Men, had given the Lord a Christmas present.
As the Lord would have wanted…
He found his twenty five pounds in the pocket of the still warm corpse, went back to the car and circuitously and within the speed limits drove home.

The Christmas Party

Alan Scott got back from his sojourn at Beachy Head, and he was knackered. It was hard work gearing yourself up for suicide, getting interrupted, going through the process again and getting interrupted again. Then having to think it through again….. And then not do it…. Can’t a man die in peace for Christ’s sake?
I am, thought The Pope as the Cardinals walked into a meeting he had forgotten and saw him up the nun’s arse, well and truly fucked…. He liked his little one liners and made them up whenever he needed a comparison with regard to ‘fucked up’ or doing something he didn’t really want to do but was going to end up having to……..or when he was a bit anxious……or when he just felt like it.

He was quite startled by what he found at home. Nothing! Nothing had changed! Somehow he thought it would all have been different, but he remembered that he had just decided, on the spur of the moment really, to emulate a lemming and hadn’t left notes, done the washing up, hoovered or anything…..
And so here we are again…. he hummed Happy as could be. All good friends. And jolly good company. Boom! Boom!
Feeling cold he turned up the central heating, put on the gas fire and made himself a cup of hot tea. He pulled up a chair in front of the fire, put his wireless laptop on his lap and found the email from the boss.

Later that day, Christmas Day, he presented himself at the James apartment and, shown in by Benshima, couldn’t believe how big it was. Jesus! He suddenly realised that although he knew what the boss’s companies made they were just numbers on a piece of paper. Big numbers certainly, but they had no life. They represented nothing other than figures. But this space, bloody hell, this space must represent millions! Looking around he was now uncertain whether he should have come back from Beachy Head!? Jesus! If that was to make him feel good, with all the wealth and all the accoutrement, what the hell would the boss do to make him feel bad? Take him to Abramovich? Jesus. How the other half lived…..
His lack of success reared its ugly head, and he took a deep breath. Beachy Head?
I am, thought the Virgin Mary as she felt a tiny kick in her tummy, well and truly fucked

It was still a holiday tomorrow…… If at first, you don’t succeed…….
H came over with another man in tow and grabbed Alan’s hand.
‘Good to see you Alan’ said H ‘this is Ray Clowes, who owns a large group of companies, we’re both in the Ferrari club, and I was telling Ray what a whiz you were with figures and comparative data, and how you found out about the guy who was scamming our internet site. Just from data. Bloody impressive.’
‘Thank you, boss.’
‘Ray would like to have a word with you about that. Ray doesn’t have anyone like you in his organisation, and by the way, I’ve told him that if he tries to lure you away, his Ferrari will be in lake somewhere, so he’d like to have a word with you later. That ok?’
‘Sure boss, whatever I can do to help.’
I am, thought David Attenborough as he saw the glint of lust in the great ape’s eyes, completely fucked…..
‘I’ve also told Ray that I can’t afford to lose you at the moment but later this year if there’s time, we could always hire you to them for a while at one or two days a week. We’ll see. Anyway talk to Ray later.’
‘Ok boss.’
‘Good to meet you Alan’ said Ray ‘catch up with you later’ and he wandered off.
‘I’ll talk to you later about the Casino’ said H ‘did you get time to look at what I sent you?’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘You don’t have to call me boss you know.’
‘I know, but I’m ok with that if you are.’
‘If you’re comfortable with it?’
‘Yes. I know where I stand……’
H smiled ‘Ok.’
He turned as Benny called him ‘Excuse me, Alan’
Alan made his way over to the buffet food and grabbed a couple of sandwiches. He was starving but decided that filling his face wasn’t the thing to do so he wandered off to a corner, ate them, and slowly, circuitously, wandered back for another lot. He put more food on his plate then one of the ladies who had been hired for the night came round serving red wine, white wine or champagne. Alan looked at the label on the champagne and saw Louis Roederer.

Shit! Cristal Champagne! He had heard about it and knew it was called that because the bottle was made from lead crystal to make it stronger which allowed it to have a flat bottom, but he had never drunk any. He had never had expensive champagne in his life. The nearest he came to it was when Tesco had a deal from £36 to £20, and he bought two. Two! For a special occasion. He remembered they were still in the fridge…..

Balancing his plate of goodies in one hand, he reached over to get a glass of champagne in the other and watched as the sandwiches started to slide off. He quickly tilted his hand the other way, but he also did it with his other hand which tipped some of the drink over the lady. Would it ever end, he thought to himself? Beachy Head here I come
‘I’m ever so sorry……I’m just a cretin.
She smiled nicely at him ‘I’m sure you’re not…’
‘Believe me…I am. That’s just a minor demonstration of my cretinous powers. I could be a super hero; Cretin Man! Look there’s Cretin Man flying into another wall! There’s Cretin Man downing another plane. There’s Cretin Man sinking another luxury liner…… We’re going to die, let’s call for Cretin Man! No, better to die this way…..’

She giggled ‘No harm done’ she said softly.
He was still mumbling to himself and looking at the floor when the tone in her voice permeated his brain. He looked down, in a roundabout kind of way, at her hand and whether there was a wedding ring.
‘I’m not married’ she said ‘are you?’
‘No…..a long time ago yes, but Cretin Man….you know…. Why are you working today?’
‘I’m helping out a friend, and the money comes in handy.’
He nodded. Taking a deep breath, he blurted out ‘At the risk of saying something that comes out ridiculous would you consider joining me for a drink or something…….one evening? Pictures……?’ he tailed off, his voice getting quieter.
‘That’s fine. I’ll give you my number before I go’ and she started to turn round.
‘Before you go……I don’t have anything like……..’ he said apologetically and held out his arms to encompass the room, catching a large yucca with one arm and dropping his sandwiches. He despaired.
I am, thought John Glenn as he heard a tiny pssst in his helmet, well and truly fucked
She smiled ‘That’s fine….See you later’ and off she went to dab at her wet tunic and serve more drinks.
Jesus! Thought Scotty, Santa Claus had friggin arrived! He then realised he didn’t know her name and she hadn’t asked his……? Quite the Lothario aren’t you he said sarcastically to himself.

The Meter Reader

The meter reader arrived at the house which was obviously deserted. It didn’t look deserted, but in his job, he knew deserted when he saw it. It was like going home to an empty house. You know it’s empty as soon as you step through the door. Everything about it is empty. It has no life, no soul, no welcome. It just sits there and ignores you…. In this particular instance, he knew there was no one there as he had read the report in the paper about a Mister Arnold who had vanished into thin air and hadn’t been seen for several weeks.

He was a few minutes early, and then he saw the car pull up. Arnold’s brother had a spare key to let him get in to read the meter. They went in and while the brother made sure everything was as it was when he checked three days ago he went to the cupboard under the stairs. Peering in, he looked at the meter and became puzzled.
‘Mr Arnold’ he shouted
‘What appliances are on in the house at the moment?
‘Other than the lights, none that I’m aware of at the moment. Why?’
‘The meters spinning round. Something is using electricity, and a reasonable amount.’
Arnold joined him, and they watched the meter spin round. Grown men watching a little dial spin round….
‘Is there anything on in the garage?’
‘No. I was in there the other day, and there’s just his car and some golf clubs.’
‘They don’t use much power’ said the meter reader
‘You’ve obviously seen him hit a golf ball.’
‘Good one.’
The conversation was taking on a surreal slant.
‘Something’s definitely on somewhere. That’s a fair current usage.’
‘I may have missed something. Shall we have a look around?’
‘What are we looking for?’
‘I don’t know, but a fire, or several kettles, or several freezers…’
‘That much current?’
‘Oh yes…’
They searched the house, garage and shed but found nothing.
‘I’m just popping to the van for a minute’ Meter Reader said and off he went, returning a few minutes later with a small hand held device.
‘Checks for circuits in walls; mainly so you don’t drill there, but this should find something. With luck’.
He thought for a moment.
‘If we start in the kitchen it may be they’ve taken a spur off there as the kitchen tends to hold the biggest current users’
He wandered around the kitchen putting the detector by wall sockets. ‘Here! This ones using current’
He moved the detector in a circle around the socket until he found the cable that was taking the current. It travelled downwards, in the wall, behind the kitchen cabinets, then down farther.
‘Is there a basement?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘You may be wrong….. ‘ He said in a concerned voice.
He had no idea why he felt concerned, but he did. It was a bit like the empty house. You knew. They looked at all the floors, but there was nothing; then in the hall, Arnold moved the rug and saw the trap door. For some reason, the meter reader put his hand to his mouth as though to suppress something. Whether it was the meter readers’ unease permeating him or whether something else Arnold didn’t really want to open the trap door. He didn’t really want to do it…. He looked at the meter reader.
‘What do you think?’
‘I don’t know. I really don’t know. This doesn’t feel good at all to me but….’