Gurk
The sickly sweet smell of rotting meat irritated his nose like a punch in
the face. This was clearly not a good butcher’s shop. Matthew Smith had been
an environmental health officer for a few months now and had become
disheartened with the job, not even the bribe cheered him up. As normal the
bribe came in a brown envelope patterned with grease and congealed meat
juices.
“Don’t do it again” said Matt, the words dribbling out of his mouth like
apathetic lemmings jumping to their death off a small garden wall.
Out on the street it was that time of day when only the most depressed
people are about. Those who had somewhere to go have got there and those who
are happy with where they are haven’t decided they would like to be
somewhere else yet. Matt strolled past a man who obviously intended to be
somewhere else at some point but didn’t particularly want to get there too
fast. He could relate to that; he was on his way to visit the fish woman.
Matt had visited her before and could never work out why she had that
nickname around the office, she was definitely unattractive, like some kind
of female Bernard Manning but she didn’t look like a fish, perhaps a really
ugly fish.
“Yes, I admit the knives contrast very well with the flowers, but that doesn
‘t make them any less dangerous. What is your problem, why can’t you find
something sensible to hang from the ceiling. Why don’t you go to Ikea, they
sell loads of pointless crap down there. I don’t know how you keep this
place running, half the flowers are dead”
“Fu..”
“No, I haven’t finished yet, that so called daffodil is obviously a wooden
stick with a a, What is that?”
“Fuc.”
” errr”