Disclaimer: Nothing is mine except the plot. Characters belong to creators of 'Black Books' Channel 4

I just want to say thank you to everyone who reviewed my first fanfic (which was also Black Books), they really made my day! :D Sorry I have not been writing since, I've been really busy with college work! But it's summer and I'm back on track...

Chapter 1 –

It is a lovely summers day; the street is full with enthusiastic shoppers enjoying the sunshine, smiling faces greet each other and the interior of 'Black Books' is no different.

Except for the angry man at the desk. His lanky jet black fringe dances over his eyes as he stares transfixed at a computer screen while pushing random buttons on the keyboard. Bernard Black looks in concentration at a green canvas with little playing cards lined up in front of him like soldiers awaiting his next instructions. For the last twenty minutes he's been trying to work out how to make anything else happen.

'MANNY!' He shouts from his desk, not looking away from the seemingly innocent playing cards and at least four people jump out of their skins in the shop.

Manny Bianco comes out from behind a bookshelf with a price gun and wonders over. 'For the last time, Bernard the customers don't-'

'Shut up and tell me how to work this blasted thing!' Bernard snaps, frustrated. Manny leans in close and immediately feels the heat coming out of his master's red ears. He looks in concentration also, for a few seconds before he says, 'well my best bet is that the two of spades should go on that three of hearts for a start…'

'What?' Bernard hammers the keyboard with his fist, 'Manny I bought this stupid piece of trash under your imperative advise and look where it's got us! I only wanted to check up my mail on 'GotMail'!'

'Hotmail.' Manny corrects, 'Bernard…here…' Manny attempts to take the mouse off Bernard with difficulty as they wrestle with it. 'Don't be such a baby! Give it!' He jerks it away and the price gun falls onto Bernard's head. Manny looks fearful, 'Oh My God! I'm so sorry Bernard, I didn't mean…'

He is lost for words when two cold hands grab his neck and the two men fight for victory over control of the mouse – while the customers stare.

Bernard yanks Manny's beard and claims a devious grin but then the grin turns into a look of horror and he sneezes.

'Bless you!' Manny wheezes.

'Thank you!' Bernard shakes his head, still with one hand around his neck.

Minutes later, Manny manages to calm him down and shows him the route to accessing his emails. 'There you go! Piece of cake!' He grins with delight.

'It's so complicated!

'No it's not!'

'Of course it is. I don't like it.' Bernard sums up on the spot. 'It's ridiculous, it's idiotic, it's-'

'Saving time and money!' Manny snaps.

Bernard pauses and sneezes again.

'Are you alright Bernard?' Manny looks at him, a tad worried.

'No, I mean yes – I'm fine. It's just my way of telling you how disgusted I am that stupid people would invent such absurd creations…' He holds in another sneeze, squinting his eyes tightly shut.

Manny blinks with uncertainty. 'Really? Mostly it's just a way of people telling someone that they are catching a cold. But you really like to make a show of things don't you?' He grins, folding his arms.

'I'm not trying to make a show…I'm Beatrix Potter as it is with my talking animals…' he waves at Manny, 'and…ACHOO!' His head flies forward and smashes on the keyboard. He gurgles his next annoyance of the world.

Manny grabs hold of his head and swings him upright, Bernard's eyes fazed and bloodshot. 'My God, you are sick Bernard!' Manny says, looking closely into his patient's mouth, nose and eyeballs.

'Ghmahergaga…!' Bernard wails as Manny rolls his head round from side to side to the amusement of many customers behind him. 'Magny…Ganny…MANNY!' Bernard yells in frustration, sending spit flying everywhere. He flaps his arms in Manny's face similar to a child at the doctor's surgery who refuses to have a needle stuck in his arm.

'Bernard, there's no doubt about it. You are sick and you are going straight to bed!' Manny sighs, rubbing his forehead.

Bernard shrieks and gets up, runs into the heart of the shop among the bookcases and hides behind an old man reading the back cover of a mystery novel. 'Shhhh!' Bernard whispers at the man who frowns, creasing his wrinkles even more. 'I say, what is the meaning of this? I'm browsing here, Sir!'

'Yes, whatever! Browse all you like…just let me hide in your tweed jacket!' Bernard pulls the material down over his head and clutches the old man's legs.

'What are you doing? What service is this?' The old man pulls away his coat and disappears.

'No!' Bernard begs, wanting to claw at the lovely tweed disguise, but grabs thin air as the man moves hastily away, falling over in the process. He coughs up two hundred year old dust from the mangy carpet and comes face to face with a beard.

'Argh no!' Bernard's face scrunches up in deep despair, knowing he has failed to escape.

'Come on, Bernard. Don't make a scene!' Manny's voice echoes around him as he feels his arms being lifted and helped to his feet.

The room is blurred and everything defies gravity, Bernard feels light and wants to float around the room like a ghost.

Manny helps him up the stairs and into bed. 'Will this be alright Bernard? Sorry that I didn't lay the bear traps under the bed this morning. Oh and sorry I didn't get that yogurt stain out of the lampshade…I don't think it's dripping anymore. Oh and sorry you don't have any pillows, but there's some planks of wood that was lying around on the staircase I thought could be useful.'

He throws Bernard on the bed carefully and hears shrieks of pain. While Bernard is moaning Manny pauses and folds his arms, trying to think of something that he may have forgot to tell Bernard today. The groaning continues but he's remembered. 'Oh yeah, and Bernard…I emptied my ant farm this morning to clean and thought they would be happy crawling around in your mattress with your lice friends! Is that alright?'

Bernard sits up, covered in bites on his face. Manny's body goes numb and his face goes as white as the pus dribbling out of Bernard's skin. 'Oh right, now that I think about it, those might have been the poison ants…'