The rain drove against him like fingers of mercury
almost halting him with every step=–pushing him
with hands unseen, yet hard as steel.
He was wet and, fed-up and lost;
trying to get to his new client, some old guy,
and settle the final affairs of the day
before he could get out of this miasma
and into a warm brandy.
He came, finally, upon the house.
It was small, unassuming, yet in this tempest;
a welcome friend even though it was beneath him.
He knocked on the door.
No answer.
“Typical of the elderly” he thought….
He didn’t like dealing with old people.
They were slow and liked to talk too much;
and he, he had to keep moving, like a shark
or die of lack of the productivity
he’s been made famous for’ That he’d built a career on….
..that and being “creative” with “unclaimed estates”;
Finally, the door opened and a small man’s face appeared in the door.
“Yes? May I help you?, He said weakly. He was jaundiced and shrunken.
Broadside had no time for weakness. It was wasteful to him.
“I’m Mr. Broadside, I’m a solicitor for your son…he passed away; I’m sorry”
He gave the man a minute to process the information–
that’s all he had to spare so “Let’s go Gramps” he said to himself–
and then went into his usual rapid fire “sign this” and ” here’s your check”
routine so he could get out of there and home to his next case.
The old man said “Oh well, Good riddance–we never liked each other”,
“Please come in –” and, with one slender , yellowed finger
beckoned Broadside into his small home.
Broadside had little time for this, but if it got him out fast
then so be it. He’sd wrap the geezer’s business up and out he’d go.
“Thank you Mr. Squires,” he said “I’ll not stay–
I just need a signature and I’ll be on my way. Hi estate wasn’t much”
“Please close the door behind you”, smiled Mr. Squires broadly;
Like a cat in a canary cage….
He turned away from Broadisde; a candleabra alite in his hand.
The power had gone out.
He turned again and gestured to Broadside,
and reminded him to close the door “if he would please”…
Broadside, a bit put out by the request, turned to shut the door.
But…no door was there. It was only a wall.
A wall with no features–just a polished steel mirror.
“What’s the meaning here?” Said Broadbent.
Squires said nothing..
it was then Broadbent
noticed Squires wasnt wearing any pants…
…and he was covered in fur from the waist down
and had hooves instead of feet.
Broadbent recoiled and turned to face the place the door once was;
He ran and began pounding like a sledgehammer on the wall…
“Relax,” said Squires, I just have some paperwork for you to sign;
You got hit by a car on the way here so you aren’t leaving anymore..
“Your estate was pretty large, too bad too–
it goes to the Widows and Orphans funds
you cheated from during your life’s work;
That doesn’t usually hel you here –but–
Oh yes I almost forgot…you do get a new office…
and an actual position with our firm.
Broadside looked hopeful for a moment, until he heard
“You get to process all the paperwork in regards to
lost and wasted souls and the selling of them;
since eternity began…to now…
You’ll get a break in a few millennia..for about a minute or two.
So….Smoke ’em if you got ’em!
Squires smiled and opened the door to Broadside’s office
and showed him through…to a vast cavern of papers
carved onto molten razor blades and coated with blood.
“Better get crackin!'” Squires said, Your first batch is due in an hour….
.. and the Master expects your level of productivity to impress him.
After all, you’re a shark, remember?
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