Logging - Nick Spalding Page 0,8

of here as swiftly as possible.

Yes. That’s it. Just get out quickly, and try to put this entire miserable experience behind—

JESUS!

I’ve swung the main toilet door open to be greeted by a sea of anxious faces on the other side. It looks like the whole of Fluidity is standing there . . . waiting to see if I’ve survived my own period of extreme fluidity.

At the front of this stationary gaggle are Pikky, Winery Smalls and Tex. Pikky looks concerned, Winery looks distraught, Tex looks bored.

I am painfully aware that from behind me, a smell that is as vast as it is abhorrent is emanating from the toilet and heading towards the crowd.

‘Everything OK?’ Pikky asks.

‘We were quite worried about you,’ Winery adds.

‘Yup. You took off like a steer that’s been spooked by a rattler,’ Tex says, still in his broad Lancashire accent.

For some reason, even in the middle of this terrible farce, I have to ask.

‘Why are you dressed like a gludy cowgoy?’ I ask Tex, as slowly and as clearly as I can, trying to ignore the stench of my disgrace as it wafts across the room.

Tex looks extremely taken aback by this, as if it’s the first time anyone’s ever asked. Of course, it could also be that he can’t understand what I’m bloody saying.

‘Lionel is channelling the Old West this week,’ Winery says, by way of explanation. ‘He’s looking to be inspired by the rugged sensuality of the American frontier.’

I’m dumbfounded.

His real name is Lionel?

‘’Ight,’ I reply, blinking several times.

This place is insane. And I have contributed to its insanity more than enough for one lifetime.

‘Can I ’ave my rucksack and iGad, glease?’ I ask the crowd, hoping that somebody can understand and help me.

A sea of blank faces greets this, until Winery holds up her hands. ‘I think he’s trying to ask for his rucksack and iPad,’ she says hesitantly.

I nod my head feverishly, and am handed both by the woman with the blue hair – who at least has a decent reason to feel pity for me now.

I take them both with an uneasy smile and look back to the crowd, who are – whether they realise it or not – blocking my way out.

‘Glease gud you all leg me garsed?’ I ask pitifully, massaging my aching jaw as I do so.

They all stare back at me, not comprehending a word of what I’ve just said.

Cue Winery Smalls again, who has obviously decided she’s going to act as my universal translator. ‘I think he may need us to do something for him!’ she says, leaning forward. ‘Would you like us to do something for you, Mr Bellows?’ she asks me in a clear, slow voice, as if I’m foreign and looking for the nearest railway station.

Good grief.

‘’Es. I want do leave, gut you are glocking my way. Can you all glease move?!’

Winery’s eyes go wide with comprehension. ‘I think he’s telling us he wants us to move so he can leave!’ she cries triumphantly.

‘’Es! Glease move!’

And with that, the crowd does begin to part, right down the middle – mainly at the behest of Winery Smalls, who is walking backwards with both arms out to the side, and flapping her hands like a woman possessed.

I walk forward through the gap, the eyes of Fluidity on me as I do so. It’s like they’ve discovered some strange and alien species, and are all wondering what bizarre behaviour it’s going to exhibit next.

And also what smells it’s going to make.

Finally, I am able to get by Winery Smalls and head for the exit.

‘Gum gack and see us again, Mr Gellows!’ she calls after me, with her teeth clenched together, as if she’s trying to talk to me in my own alien language.

‘Dank you,’ I reply – for some fucking reason that will never become clear to me for as long as I live.

I then reach the main door to Fluidity’s office, hurrying through it as fast as my still-shaky legs can carry me.

When the elevator doors close, I lean heavily against one wall and rub a hand across my sore eyes.

I should be absolutely heartbroken that the presentation went so badly.

I should be angry that Zap Graphics has ripped off my work.

But I’m neither of those things, because all I can do is worry that there might be something seriously wrong with me.

I’ve never experienced anything like this locked jaw before, and I’ve never had to take a painful emergency shit in public either. Add both