Chapter Thirteen
Author's note: The reason for using nursery rhymes instead of disclaimers (apart from the fact that I think that, most of the time, disclaimers are stupid) is that, by my twisted reckoning, nursery rhymes are the ultimate distilled wisdom of man kind. What else is known world wide in all echelons of society? What other knowledge has been passed down, unchanged, for, in some cases, hundreds of years? I'm just saying is all. Oh, and I didn't create the pretender and make no money from these endeavours…
Lyle stared fixedly at the opposite wall. A flake of paint was peeling off. Apart from the small twitches that his eye occasionally made, he hadn't moved for three hours. One lone fly buzzed through the window, banged around the room for a bit, then made its exit. Lyle's eye twitched some more then he sneezed.
Things were going wrong. Things that couldn't possibly be the pretender's fault were going wrong. Things that shouldn't have been physically able to go wrong had been going wrong. And now, Lyle appreciated fully the plight of those that relied on public transport to get around.
The newly installed phone rang. Lyle didn't move. It rang again. Moving automatically, he picked up the receiver then let it drop with limp fingers. His mobile started to ring. Eye twitching almost uncontrollably Lyle sighed in defeat and picked it up.
'What?' he asked listlessly.
'Say mercy.'
'Will you leave me alone?'
'No, but I will stop torturing you.'
'Mercy.'
'That's a good boy Bobby. Now go downstairs and let Broots and Debbie out.'
'Yes sir.'
Lethargically, he hung up the phone and tramped out of his office. His secretary had quit, so he didn't expect anyone to be in the outer office, but Angelo fell in beside him as he left the room. Lyle didn't blink. He had forgotten how.
The sight of Broots and Debbie rejoicing as they were re-lit a tiny pilot flame of hate in Lyle, but a little whisper that had been instilled in his head told him that Jarod would not approve of his desire to messily remove their heads from their shoulders. So he didn't. Instead, he escorted them outside and then left them, Angelo shadowing him all the way.
Then, with Angelo as his guard dog, and Jarod there to punish or reward his every action, he morosely set about cleaning up the Centre, in the hopes that one day the pretender would let him have his car back.
The End