An Erroneous Judgement

Mr Faks was working late in his nail salon halfway down the Dip, behind the counter he was having a sneaky, (and thoroughly illegal), cigarette while arranging various bottles containing an assortment of film forming agents, resins, plasticizers, solvents, novelty colourants and other products that gave a special twist to his unique range of artificial fingernails. it was a particularly windy evening and the fact that numerous customers were leaving the front door open when they entered or left his premises was pushing his blood pressure to dizzying new heights. ‘This wind will be the death of me’ he thought, unpacking a new box of nitrocellulose, a highly explosive ingredient also used in the manufacture of dynamite.

The more the draught made his shoulders ache the more his head span and his anger intensified; he couldn’t believe how selfish and lazy people could be, especially people whose nails he had tended so carefully.

‘I will solve this problem with a new hydraulic system’ he decided, ‘this will automatically close the door when anyone forgets to pull it shut’.

The following week Mr Faks was glad to see the door engineer arriving with an expensive but fully guaranteed door or ‘technological facade’ as the brochure described it, engineered and manufactured with strict adherence to quality control procedures.

‘Now i will be comfortable and contented’ Mr Faks thought as the engineer left the salon through its brand new smoothly shutting “no bounce” door that blended seamlessly with its surroundings.

A few hours later Mr Faks was angrily contemplating the indolence of his customers, who were just too lazy to push the new front door that little bit harder to make it open, despite his unbeatable new offer on freehand acrylic nail designs.

From his seat behind the nail polishing counter Mr Faks could see scores of his old customers pouring in and out of cherry Corbett’s salon on the other side of the dip. cherry Corbett left her salon door wide open whatever the weather.

Mr Faks felt his blood pressure rising and the uncontrollable whirling sensation in his head getting faster and faster.

‘These doors will be the death of me’ he thought, reaching for his last cigarette.

Published by Rejected Short Stories

"Now I have restored some of my words that I want to tell people what it feels like to go through such an experience- the contents right flushed out of your brain. What it's like a whole load of other people's stuff pumped into it. Most of what they put in my mind was bank account numbers and bioinformatics data flows rearrange forever. A swirl of unstable figures, flows through me in all directions, such as rats and fleas self-replicating and voracious attacks of my brain, only animals was not, it was language."

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