Dick called around yesterday.
I’ve been dreading this for weeks.
“Where’s Ron?” says he.
I had been mentally working on my reply to this for a long time and had a nice excuse about him going West to a wedding. Of course I blurted out the truth.
“Thailand, I think.”
“What in the name of f*ck is he doing in Thailand? When did he go? When’s he coming back?”
“I don’t know. Weeks ago. No idea.” says I.
So I explained how I had accidentally shot Ron, and that he had gone off in a huff saying that he was sick of the weather and being shot and how Dick was a pr*ck to work for. The last bit wasn’t true, but Dick is a bit of a stuffed shirt, and needs the truth from time to time.
“But he’s been churning out the web sites.” says Dick, “He has been doing some great stuff and business has never been better. How could he do that if he’s in Thailand?”
“That was me.”
“But you know f*ck all about web design or web development!”
“True” says I, “but it’s dead easy once you get the hang of it. I just got a couple of books.”
He wasn’t pleased with that. There was a long silence.
“I liked that last site” says he, at last.
“Thanks. It took me two whole days to do that one”
“F*ck! It would have taken Ron a couple of weeks”
“Could you keep the language down a bit” says I, “as I’m recording this for my blog”
“You and you’re f*cking blog” says he. “I suppose you redesigned that too?”
There was another long silence.
“Want to take Ron’s place?” says he.
“Can we rename the company S.H.I.T.?” I asked.
“We’ll talk about that…”
So we decided to stroll down to the pub. We brought the guns in case there were any tourists around.
“What’s all this sh*t about Jedi?” says Dick as we walked.
“I don’t know. They suddenly started attacking me for no reason. They’re some bunch of weirdos. They have some obsession with Ewan McGregor, but they won’t say why. I looked them up on the Net and apparently there are thousands of them. In fact they have officially been added to the culling list.”
“Fair enough” said Dick.
Shortly after that two hoodies jumped out of the hedge in front of us.
“We are Jedi that have been sent by the Council to put an end to your wickedness” they hissed.
“The County Council?” I asked.
“The Council of Morm-Jordil” they muttered.
They whipped out two Maglite torches that had red cellophane wrapped over the lenses and started waving them at us.
If anyone wants the hoodies, they’re up in the landfill.
May The Force be with them.