The week had begun as weeks always began...a slow tedious lurch toward midweek and then the slightly less lurchy ramble toward the weekend.
Wednesday was where we were at and Wednesday was a day to be enjoyed.
Now...Possum wasn’t about to be taken seriously. Possum was a joker. Always kidding around. Late on deadlines, fast on one-liners. Unreliably reliable, inasmuch as that you knew what you were getting.
Not. A. Great. Deal.
Possum thought she was funny as hell. Others knew that hell was exactly where possum was gonna end up. One way or another.
Possum was stressed to the max. She’d somehow left some papers about something important somewhere where she could not remember and she knew she was ‘in for it’.
She’d tried to get the nickname Sabre Toothed Death Mouse to stick in the office ‘squad’ but it had not, only Pita had stuck: an acronym for ‘Pain in the Ass’, much to her dismay.
It was not that she did not try, rather that she tried too hard.
Now, Possum caught sight of a furious black and white blur. A frenzy of angry stomping and darting eyes.
Badger was getting his ass hauled over the coals for not filing some discrepancies in minor cross-currency spending. To be honest, Badger had zoned out. Someone had left him carrying the can and having to answer for shit he had not done and knew very little about - and this would not do. Would not do at all!
Possum had procrastinated again and again. Possum had looked in the pouch a gazillion times. Scrabbled around her own bodily handbag. The report just was not there. The amounts needed to be correlated and corroborated or no one was getting a bonus this month.
Panicking, Possum ducked behind the desk of Doormouse, the horrible suck up that he was, as Badger scoured the office. She dived into the lift as the doors slid closed and made for the exit/entrance, knocking over the water cooler as she went. Rat faced weasel got his new loafers soaked and scowled, muttering ‘Ruddy PITA under his breath’. Badger followed the noise - took the stairway - drama begets drama.
Possum spun through the revolving doors - once too many times, such was her haste to escape.
Badger burst through the fire escape at the same time - apoplectic with rage. “Possum - where are the figures? Possum, you’ve left me in the creek with only my tail as a paddle! POSSUM!”
Halfway across the street, Possum froze, stood stock still. She heard Badger approaching, could feel the rage emanating from her boss.
Falling to the ground, eyes glazed over, tongue hanging out, Possum clearly looked dead to any would-be predators - in this case it was Badger, who in charge of receipts, was not going to carry the can of worms, much less open it.
Even as the lorry drew closer and the axles, the trailer, the wheels and the whistling driver loomed into peripheral view, Possum did not move a muscle.
“Aahhh, yes”, she thought as the shadow slipped across her face. “The kitchen counter top....next to the Magical Morning Muesli Miasma Flakes, that’s where I left it.”
Fade to black.
