Do I seem nervous to you?
*nervous, shifty look*
You might have noticed that I'm currently reading a book on unnatural deaths? ... or you might not have ... after all, I only just changed it 5 minutes ago.
The thing is it's left me feeling rather nervous and paranoid.
Basically, I'm now convinced that I am surrounded by devious, vicious killers.
They're everywhere, I tell you! Everywhere!
Everyone who came into the office today seemed highly suspect ... I didn't care how old and wrinkly they were, they looked dodgy to me, I was there alone, vulnerable and so I was suitably cautious in my dealings with them.
It actually started with a non-wrinkly ... the guy who came to fit some sound panels in our dispensary rooms ... or so he claimed!
He was suspiciously tall and had the ponytail of a psychopath, I found myself wondering why would he carry such a large toolbox around? Hmm? Yes, I know he was supposed to be a workman of some kind, but he looked more like a Hell's Angel (in a Renault Megane) with nothing but vengeance and malice in his heart. A theory borne out by his cheery refusal of a cup of tea! Sinister! ... I squinted at him, Clint Eastwood stylee, just to show I wasn't intimidated by him and to let him know I was on to him. For the rest of the morning I sat with my chair positioned in a way that foiled any attempts of surprise attacks from the rear.
Then there was the "postman". Or was he? *suspicious squint*
It certainly wasn't our usual mail delivery representative ... very suspicious! What if he'd waylaid the official postie and brutally done him in? Stuffed his poor, mangled body inside one of the post box's somewhere and then stolen his uniform and identity! I hastily scanned his hands and clothing for blood stains or telltale signs of being involved in a violent struggle, which seemed to make him nervous. But not as nervous as when I carefully examined the several packages he was "delivering", tentatively shaking them and listening for any dubious ticking sounds.
Next came Mr Sucky-Sweet ... he looked a bit like Uncle Jesse off of The Dukes of Hazzard but was wearing faded corduroy not dungarees. He came in for batteries and appeared to be (rather noisily) enjoying a boiled sweet. Whilst I was writing out his receipt he offered me one from a small, rumpled looking paper bag. The alarm bells clanged loudly, the voice in my head (that sounded a lot like Homer Simpson for some bizarre reason) shouted "AARGH! POISON!". Doing my best rabbit-caught-in-headlights impression I shook my head and croaked "No thank you", hurriedly gave him his change and shooed him out the door.
Finally I had to deal with Betty the Vampire Slayer ... so called because of the eye-watering scent of garlic that precedes her arrival by at least 5 minutes.
Today she was in a bad mood; apparently she'd come into town on the bus on Saturday to pick up some batteries only to find the office closed. When I pointed to the door where it clearly says "Open week days, 9am - 5pm" she gave me an indignant look and snapped that Saturday WAS a week day, and that she thought it disgraceful that we shut on such a "vital day of the week". I noticed that she seemed to be gripping her handbag rather tightly as she fumed at me, and nervously wondered what she had in there, (besides the head of the neighbours rabbit), something deadly no doubt, a surgical stocking (to strangle me with), a knitting needle (deadly when inserted straight into the ear), an orthopedic shoe ("All the better for bludgeoning you with, my dear" *maniacal cackling*) ... I broke out in a cold sweat just thinking about all the violence an elderly woman the size of a stunted munchkin could subject me to. It was only after I'd stealthily slid the scissors across the desk to within easy grabbing distance that I began to feel safer and could breathe easy again.
Then tonight I thought I was being followed as I walked home; rapidly thinking about what James Bond would do in a similar situation I quickly ducked into a shop doorway and then watched as my evil stalker, foiled of his prey, hobbled past, clutching his walking stick in frustration.
Phew! That was a close one!
You know ... sometimes I wonder if my imagination is a little overactive?
Nah!
Constant vigilance, my friends!
