Sick

This is a more relaxed entry today as I’m writing from my sick bed having successfully caught a cold. I don’t know how I managed to catch it but it might have something to do with falling asleep wearing virtually nothing but a smile. I woke up around 5am shivering and although conscious my body was too tired to get it self up and put on some clothes. Instead it managed to blag my mind that everything will be alright in the morning and to go back to sleep which I did but not without wrapping a pillow case around my shoulders for some token attempt to harness warmth.

So Saturday was spent spluttering all over the place and waiting for the sore throat to come on. Every time I spoke I was in pain and eating solid food made it worse so I opened the cupboard and went straight to the cliché shelf and got out a can of chicken soup. Hoping the tales of the nourishing elements chicken soup possesses were true I gulped it all down thinking it tasted more of banned preservatives, gone off cream with a few straggly bits of chicken that seemed to get caught in between my teeth. Nothing nourishing about that and I didn’t feel any better so decided to cut my losses and head off to bed even though I wasn’t tired.

This can be quite boring and I spent hours staring at the ceiling, waiting to see if it would move just slightly so I could have been a witness to a defining laws of physics defying moment. But nothing happened, and besides whom would I tell? About two people. And would they give a shit? Probably not. So instead I let the illness do its work while I switched on the radio and listened to the football.

Sunday was completely a day in bed and this morning I did have enough energy to make it to work where I am sure I have infected everyone in my open plan office with my cold and sore throat. It’s not my fault that ‘the man’ makes me work, I felt ill but I could still stand and so I attended. It’s just a shame that I have had to protest in coming to work by conducting germ warfare on a grand office scale.

Anyway, enough word processed inanity, I’m off to sleep.


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“I didn’t see anything, I just heard a smash and saw you all over Peter smashing his head in.” screamed Marla.

“He told me, he wanted to kill Semmi.” Was the timid sound from Peter’s mouth. He was entwined within Semmi’s embrace, nestled against her bosom like an upset child being comforted.

“What the fuck are you talking about, I never said that.”

Charles starts to move towards Peter who just recoils within Semmi’s body. Marla starts to yank him back and looks at the rest of the restaurant for help but everyone is watching quietly apart from the waiter who is shaking but still managing not to drop the tray of food. He nervously smiles at Marla letting her know she’s on her own.

“Yes you did, and then you threatened to beat me up if I told anyone and so you did.”

Charles listened to what Peter said and although initially he moved towards him to pull him away from Semmi and continue with the beatings he couldn’t bring him self to do it. What Peter was saying was absurd, utter nonsense.

“Let’s go Marla, this guy is a freak. Semmi, I don’t care what he says, I didn’t say I wanted to kill you, I have no desire to do anything like that. You should take this pathetic person to the hospital though he may be concussed or hopefully worse.”

Semmi just look at him, not in hatred or resentment, in a way Charles didn’t understand so he grabbed Marla by the wrists to stop her scratching him anymore pulled out his wallet and scooped out three twenty pound notes and threw them on the table. He turned around and strode out of the Janpur’s with Marla behind him.

“I hate you!”

They got into the car.

“You’re a violent dick head.”

He starts up the engine and begins to drive away.

“I told you not to ruin my night and what do you go and do…”

It’s at that point Charles decides to ostracise Marla from his thoughts. He can’t believe just how sneaky Peter was. Peter was trying to unsettle Charles as soon as they both sat opposite each other but he managed to cope with his inquisitive comments and questions and in fact turn the pressure around on him. He made Peter tell Semmi where he lives and with whom, but what he told her was a lie. But why? Why lie? He didn’t want to take her back so instead he attacked Charles knowing full well that he would retaliate with lethalness. His wailing and screaming had all been an act to sensationalise the beating. If Charles beat him too much there was no way he could go straight home, instead he’d have to go to the A&E and every one would be concerned with him and detest Charles.

“Fuck.” Said Charles aloud.

“Don’t you start swearing at me…” Carries on Marla.

What a conniving weasel Peter was, intelligent for sure but totally untrustworthy thinks Charles as he starts to slump into his seat. Even though he ended up on the receiving end of Peter’s emergency plan he was pleased with him self. Pleased that he initially didn’t use force on Peter when he started asking difficult questions, he couldn’t believe that he managed to worm his way out of them and then actually make Peter squirm a bit. In the end he used violence but he was attacked and that was a more or less natural reaction and he didn’t seriously injure him which he believes Peter was seriously hoping for.