Monday, September 18, 2006

The Annual Rubik's Convention

Gentle readers, I know that many of you only read this electronic diary to see whether or not I have perished dreadfully in whatever misadventure I have become embroiled in. At present I am recounting terrible events from the past rather than as they happen, and the fact that I am alive to narrate will tell you that I survived safely. This severly reduces the dramatic tension but I have devised a way of injecting a little of it back into the current narrative. During my time spent with Bossert I smashed my digital watch, but I will not tell you how or when at the moment. This will encourage you to read on. Your curiosity will get the better of you. You will be on edge until the breakage occurs.

Bossert called once more for his ugly dwarf, Perkeo, who scuttled in carrying a crust-topped bottle of aged Tabasco sauce, which Bossert had earlier bid him fetch. As the hunchbacked oaf burst through the door, he knocked me into the wall where my digital wristwatch smashed. Bossert thanked his miniature slave and proceeded to pour a few drops into the creature's eyes: punishment, he claimed, for not bringing the Tabasco sooner. Perkeo squealed and I greatly pitied the wretch as he rolled about on the floor scratching miserably at his eyes. Bossert watched the whole sorry display with a strange and laviscious smirk; how I loathed him then. After some time, Perkeo stood up and asked what Bossert required of him. He was told to take up my leash and follow him.

Perkeo saw an opportunity to take out some of his anger and humiliation upon one more damned than he and wasted no time in dragging me up by my hair. He called me all manner of racist terms like 'Jock', 'haggis muncher', 'sheep sh***er' (shagger), 'porridge wog', 'whisky enjoyer', 'Scotty from Star Trek', and finally, 'Scotch Egg'. He really was a most noxious little munchkin.

I was pulled through endless corridors by my leash, Bossert leading the way. Eventually we arrived at a great set of doors with a sign on the front that said "Welcome to the Annual Rubik's Convention, San Diego 2004". Perkeo ambled up to the doors and threw them open. Bossert adjusted his tie and marched in with the air of one who commands instant respect: not easy to achieve for one trapped in the body of a schoolboy. I heard some awed gasps and also some odd gasps coming from inside the room.

Here I will break off in the interest of creating a cliffhanger.

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