Free Nostradamus Ate My Hamster by Robert Rankin Page A

Russell.
    “No,” said Morgan. “That’s not right, Russell is the salesman.”
    “If one of us has to go,” said Russell, “then it had better be me. Last one in, first one out.”
    “I agree with that,” said Frank.
    “Right,” said Ernest. “You’re sacked then, Russell.”
    “Thank you,” said Russell. “I’m sorry that I have to leave, perhaps if things pick up, you’ll take me on again.”
    “No, no, no,” said Morgan. “That won’t do. Russell is just being Mr Nice Guy again. You can’t sack Russell.”
    “Why not?” Russell asked.
    “Because Russell is the salesman. He takes the customers round, writes up the orders, supervises pick ups and returns and does the loss and damage reports. You can’t sack Russell.”
    “Oh,” said Ernest. “Who should I sack then?”
    “Sack Bobby Boy,” said Morgan.
    “That’s a bit unfair on Bobby Boy, isn’t it?” Russell asked. “With him not being here to speak up for himself.”
    “Keep out of this, Russell.”
    “I think Bobby Boy should have his say.”
    “Bobby Boy, you’re sacked,” said Ernest, “wherever you are.”
    “But –” said Russell.
    “Be quiet, Russell, or I’ll sack you too.”
    “Oh,” said Russell.
    “Well,” said Ernest, “I think that all went rather well. Now back to work you lot.”
    “But –” said Russell.
    “What?” said Ernest.
    “Could I wash the cups up?” Russell asked.
    “Are you sure you can fit that in, with all the other things you have to do?”
    “I’ll try,” said Russell.
    “Good boy, now off you go.”
    “Thank you,” said Russell.
    They squeezed outside and Frank shut the door.
    “That was close,” said Frank.
    “Yeah,” said Morgan. “Thanks for putting my name forward.”
    “You liked that?”
    “No, I was being sarcastic”
    “I’m going back inside,” said Russell. “If anyone has to go it should be me. Last in, first out.”
    “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Morgan.
    “Oh, and why not?”
    “Because I met Bobby Boy at lunch-time and he’s got himself another job.”
    “Phew,” said Russell. “Then I’m saved. Thanks a lot, Morgan.”
    “Least I could do,” said that man.
    The voice of Ernest Fudgepacker reached their ears, it called, “Oh, and we’ll have another meeting this time next week and if business hasn’t picked up, I’ll have to sack somebody else.”
    “Do you mind if I say ‘fuck’?” Russell asked.

8
    “Grease,” says the old song, “is the word,” but this is not altogether true. In fact, it isn’t true at all. “Stress” is the word. Stress. Stress. Stress.
    In movies, the hero or heroine is put under stress. Hollywood scriptwriters understand this. They understand this because this is what Hollywood producers demand of them.
    “Is the hero being put under stress?”
    The reason for this is because a movie must not be “plot-led”. The hero or heroine must take the initiative. Forces are up against them, but they must do all the doing. They have a goal that must be reached. You may argue that all movies aren’t like that. But they are, you know. Pick any movie you like and think about the plot and the hero (or heroine). It’s all to do with stress.
    Hollywood thrives on stress.
    Russell didn’t thrive on stress. Russell hated stress. Stress was not Russell’s thing. But stress he had and stress he was going to get lots more of.
    He didn’t get sacked the next week. Morgan didn’t get sacked the next week, nor did Frank. Although Frank really deserved it.
    The reason none of them got sacked was because something rather unexpected happened. And what this rather unexpected something was, was a rather unexpected upturn in the fortunes of Fudgepacker’s Emporium. And how this rather unexpected something came about was all down to Russell.
    Who was under stress at the time.
    “Under stress” and “at the time”.
    We’ve done a bit about stress, so now let’s do a bit about time.
    James Campbell once