Monday 30 July 2012

I DOUGHNUT believe it

Jack The Ripper, John F Kennedy, OJ Simpson’s wife & her lover, 9/11*…there are literally four famous whodunnits from history that I can think of now. But they pale into insignificance when you learn of THE 2012 GREAT DOUGHNUT WHODUNNIT OF MANCHESTER. Let’s go….THIRD PERSON POORLY WRITTEN PROSE.

The door of the open plan office opened. Not everyone looked towards the door – they didn’t have to, people know when an alpha male has entered the building. He walked through the door both casually AND with authority which some people say isn’t possible – so how did he do it? How did he do it if you can’t do it? You must be able to do it – because he did it. Anyway he walked in and people were like “I’d love to make love to him if I was gay and maybe forced to (but not by him)”, “he’s the best looking one with Down’s Syndrome” or “even if my vagina had a condition that would kill me and the only cure in the world was in his penis I still wouldn’t want it anywhere near me”. They thought stuff that wasn’t necessarily complimentary – because he wasn’t an attractive man. On a good day he could pass for below average but he was not having a good day.

He wasn’t helping himself with his attire. Looking back on the period earlier that day when he had thought it funny to wear a Rocha John Rocha shirt and a pair of Rocha John Rocha jeans he realised it wasn’t funny. He hoped no-one realised he was wearing top and jeans from the same clothes label. Fortunately people don’t want to look at someone who looks like an overweight bad Paul McCartney lookalike so he was practically ignored. In fact, if someone could be ignored to death he would be in danger – danger of death (by ignorance – I was really hoping that was clear).

He got to his desk. There was a brown paper Greggs The Baker bag on it. Inside it were three jam doughnuts. “Fucking hell,” he thought, “why the fuck has someone – accidentally or purposefully – left three fucking doughnuts on my fucking desk?” Then he spoke – out loud but quietly, “why the fuck has someone – accidentally or purposefully – left three fucking doughnuts on my fucking desk?”

Over the next few minutes he asked a few people sat around him if they new anything about the mysterious fried confectionery items. There was clearly some conspiracy, maybe something went right to the top, there had to be because no-one was saying anything. Clearly they were rattled and were being told what to say by some mysterious dark overlord because they all said basically the same thing; “sorry? what are you talking about? I don’t really know what you are talking about – I’m quite busy with work while you’re fucking about going on about some doughnuts that have accidentally found their way to your desk. Why would they have been a gift from someone? No-one likes you. Why are you labouring under some delusion that someone has tried to do something nice for you and then feeling a bit bad because you don’t like doughnuts. If someone did leave them on your desk it is probably because they know you don’t like doughnuts and dislike you enough to do this to annoy you. But be clear, the most likely event is that someone – who doesn’t know it was your desk or that you exist – left them there by accident.”

He always nodded while they were speaking – to let the people know, non-verbally, that he was listening and he said “thank-you for your time” after each person had delivered the words. He wasn’t prepared to let whoever was behind this win. He wasn’t prepared to sit back and take this mind-fuck from whatever dark forces. He wasn’t able to resolve the internal conflict that would tear his soul apart if he didn’t spend every sinew of his very being endeavouring to strangle the absence of an answer to this riddle…to death. But he had stuff to do: weekend emails to check, he needed to phone IT to sort out an issue with his computer and he was reaching the elastic limit of putting some stuff off – he would have to do them, or try and think of another relative he could say was dead to buy some more time.

He never did find out who left the doughnuts. He thought it was a shame that the situation had no denouement as it would have been something to write about in the daily blog he wrote. Maybe if he came up with some clichéd narrative delivery he could perhaps make it work, though he accepted it was unlikely that it would work.

The doughnuts were placed in a bin at approximately 3:30 pm.

*I know a lot of people thought I was going to mention ********* ***** here. But I didn’t. And people say I’ve lost the ability to surprise – though to be fair I have never been a part of a successful surprise for anyone, be it party/gift/STD so they might have a point.

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