Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Shake Rattle and Roll 

“It’s superb. You’ve got to see it for yourself to appreciate how well they work together,” said Rex, our millionaire security guard.
I pricked up my ears. ‘Working well together’ is something of an alien concept around here.
“Yeah,” grunted Mike through a golden haze of toast crumbs. “My uncle used to take me when I was a kid.”

“Ferret down the hole,” continued Rex, warming to his theme, “Jack Russell waiting at the other end. One shake and they’re dead. Shake, dead. Shake, dead. Shake, dead.”
“And it’s good grub,” Mike enthused.
“Too bloody right. And all of it free. Shake, dead.”
“They don’t know what hit ‘em.”
“One shake and they’re dead. It’s a joy to watch.”

From Stella’s office, we heard the anguished whimper of an eighties style yuppie witch falling off her running machine.

Rex and Mike scoffed in unison. “They don’t understand. Townies.”

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