"What the hell is this?" Josh said aloud.
"I don't know, never heard of a Hogwarts school, have you?" Sally replied.
"Must be some kind of joke, I never got accepted into any specialty schools, 'School of witchcraft and Wizardry?'"
"What do you suppose they teach there? And if it was a joke, why did they keep the letter?"
"Dad probably wanted to sue them for fraud or something, but then again, it's in this old drawer instead of amongst his old law papers. Very weird."
"Maybe it was from a friend."
"But none of my friends ever went to that school. I doubt if any of them played a joke like this on dad."
"Very weird."
"Heh, look at this name, Ablus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, that's a strange one, eh?" Josh said hold the letter closer to Sally
"Grand Mugwump?"
"Yes, and a member of the Wizengot, whatever that is. Look at this! There's a list of books, equipment and everything. Check this out, I could've brought my choice of a owl, cat or toad."
"Must be a wild school if they allow owls running all over the place."
"Yeah, what boarding school accepts pets?"
"Too weird, but the dresser is nice. Could we take that as a wedding present from your dad?"
"I don't see why not. Besides I want to keep this letter. There's a reason why this is here. My parents may have been packrats, but, for packrats, they were very organized. See anything else you like, dear?"
"Nope, I guess we'll have to arrange for it's disposal."
"I guess so."
They made their way back to the stairs to the attack.
"Oh my!" Sally said.
"The wallpaper! It's all pealed off! How did it peal off so fast?"
"These walls are soaked."
"Must be a broken pipe somewhere. I'll call a plumber."
It took a good half hour for the plumber to finally arrive. They showed him in and escorted him to the door to the attic. Upon opening it, Sally and Josh's jaws drop. The plumber just stood there.
"Looks Ok to me," he said. And it did. The wallpaper had returned to its original state and was dry as desert.
"But that's impossible," said Josh. "Why only 5 minutes ago all the wallpaper was in heaps along the stairs and the whole wall was wet, I mean soaked, straight through." The plumber walked up the stairs and inspected the wallpaper.
"There's no water damage here, sir. This paper's been glued pretty well. It would take quite a storm to wash both sides of the stairs out."
"I see," said Josh.
"That'll be forty quid for the visit, sir."
"Right," he said, looking puzzled.
* * *
The rest of that week Josh and Sally held Shiva at his mother's house. Nothing as strange as that ever occurred while John was in his first seven days of mourning. He returned to work the following week rather nervous, wondering if he was going to handle the stress well or just turn into a blob of blubbering tears of grief. The first person to greet him was his boss, a certain Mr. Connoley, who for the most part respected Josh until lately. Josh could tell. They weren't going out to lunch as much as they used to, nor had tea together. Josh realized this maybe because Mr. Connoley may have seen Josh's latest proposals as a bit more progressive than usual. Now, there was a different story about Josh's dealings with potential bank clients.
"Gottlieb," he said, "My God, man, why haven't you shaved."
"I'm sorry, sir, my mother died, sir, it's part of the tradition of mourning."
"I see, right. Anyway, I've gone over the Chelsea deal and all I've got to say is you can't be serious, man. I mean, 1.5 percent. It's highway robbery!"
"Well, the whole part of that loan plan was to make our bank more inviting to investors by underselling the competition with a vastly lower rate."
"Oh really, didn't they teach you anything in finance school? It doesn't work! The only way to make profit on that is to double our rate of new investment and things never go like that. Loans are not television sets. They're not mass-produced. The bank would hardly have the infrastructure to support such investment expansion. Now you get on the phone to those Chelsea people right away and fix those figures! And be warned, any more attempts to undersell this bank and you'll find yourself out with the dogs, understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good, good luck."
"Thank you, sir." Mr. Connoley walked away ferociously shaking his head as Josh watched him feeling rather depressed. A cup of coffee would do me good today, he thought, and headed for the break-room.
With no one there, Josh felt the stress compounding in his head. How was he going to explain this to client? He was bound to loose them, if they found out that the only reason they were investing in the first place had been dismissed. I defiantly need coffee, he thought again leaning his hands on a counter-top.
"Oh, thank you," he said as he grabbed the cup that hovered by his right shoulder. Hovered? He turned around. There was still no one there. He walked over to the coffee machine. The power light was off. There was no coffee in the pot, in fact it looked quite clean and unused. There was no filter, no grinds, the water chamber was empty and dry. What the hell? He thought, how did this get here? Right, must some sort of mild schizophrenia due to stress of course.
"I'll just leave you here," he said putting the cup very gingerly on the counter in front of him. He walked briskly out of the break-room and headed for his cubicle. The cup followed him, hovering at chest height a foot behind him.
"I don't know, never heard of a Hogwarts school, have you?" Sally replied.
"Must be some kind of joke, I never got accepted into any specialty schools, 'School of witchcraft and Wizardry?'"
"What do you suppose they teach there? And if it was a joke, why did they keep the letter?"
"Dad probably wanted to sue them for fraud or something, but then again, it's in this old drawer instead of amongst his old law papers. Very weird."
"Maybe it was from a friend."
"But none of my friends ever went to that school. I doubt if any of them played a joke like this on dad."
"Very weird."
"Heh, look at this name, Ablus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, that's a strange one, eh?" Josh said hold the letter closer to Sally
"Grand Mugwump?"
"Yes, and a member of the Wizengot, whatever that is. Look at this! There's a list of books, equipment and everything. Check this out, I could've brought my choice of a owl, cat or toad."
"Must be a wild school if they allow owls running all over the place."
"Yeah, what boarding school accepts pets?"
"Too weird, but the dresser is nice. Could we take that as a wedding present from your dad?"
"I don't see why not. Besides I want to keep this letter. There's a reason why this is here. My parents may have been packrats, but, for packrats, they were very organized. See anything else you like, dear?"
"Nope, I guess we'll have to arrange for it's disposal."
"I guess so."
They made their way back to the stairs to the attack.
"Oh my!" Sally said.
"The wallpaper! It's all pealed off! How did it peal off so fast?"
"These walls are soaked."
"Must be a broken pipe somewhere. I'll call a plumber."
It took a good half hour for the plumber to finally arrive. They showed him in and escorted him to the door to the attic. Upon opening it, Sally and Josh's jaws drop. The plumber just stood there.
"Looks Ok to me," he said. And it did. The wallpaper had returned to its original state and was dry as desert.
"But that's impossible," said Josh. "Why only 5 minutes ago all the wallpaper was in heaps along the stairs and the whole wall was wet, I mean soaked, straight through." The plumber walked up the stairs and inspected the wallpaper.
"There's no water damage here, sir. This paper's been glued pretty well. It would take quite a storm to wash both sides of the stairs out."
"I see," said Josh.
"That'll be forty quid for the visit, sir."
"Right," he said, looking puzzled.
* * *
The rest of that week Josh and Sally held Shiva at his mother's house. Nothing as strange as that ever occurred while John was in his first seven days of mourning. He returned to work the following week rather nervous, wondering if he was going to handle the stress well or just turn into a blob of blubbering tears of grief. The first person to greet him was his boss, a certain Mr. Connoley, who for the most part respected Josh until lately. Josh could tell. They weren't going out to lunch as much as they used to, nor had tea together. Josh realized this maybe because Mr. Connoley may have seen Josh's latest proposals as a bit more progressive than usual. Now, there was a different story about Josh's dealings with potential bank clients.
"Gottlieb," he said, "My God, man, why haven't you shaved."
"I'm sorry, sir, my mother died, sir, it's part of the tradition of mourning."
"I see, right. Anyway, I've gone over the Chelsea deal and all I've got to say is you can't be serious, man. I mean, 1.5 percent. It's highway robbery!"
"Well, the whole part of that loan plan was to make our bank more inviting to investors by underselling the competition with a vastly lower rate."
"Oh really, didn't they teach you anything in finance school? It doesn't work! The only way to make profit on that is to double our rate of new investment and things never go like that. Loans are not television sets. They're not mass-produced. The bank would hardly have the infrastructure to support such investment expansion. Now you get on the phone to those Chelsea people right away and fix those figures! And be warned, any more attempts to undersell this bank and you'll find yourself out with the dogs, understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good, good luck."
"Thank you, sir." Mr. Connoley walked away ferociously shaking his head as Josh watched him feeling rather depressed. A cup of coffee would do me good today, he thought, and headed for the break-room.
With no one there, Josh felt the stress compounding in his head. How was he going to explain this to client? He was bound to loose them, if they found out that the only reason they were investing in the first place had been dismissed. I defiantly need coffee, he thought again leaning his hands on a counter-top.
"Oh, thank you," he said as he grabbed the cup that hovered by his right shoulder. Hovered? He turned around. There was still no one there. He walked over to the coffee machine. The power light was off. There was no coffee in the pot, in fact it looked quite clean and unused. There was no filter, no grinds, the water chamber was empty and dry. What the hell? He thought, how did this get here? Right, must some sort of mild schizophrenia due to stress of course.
"I'll just leave you here," he said putting the cup very gingerly on the counter in front of him. He walked briskly out of the break-room and headed for his cubicle. The cup followed him, hovering at chest height a foot behind him.