Gurriers Read Online Free PDF Page B

particular time. It got me noticed.
    “And what’s your story, clean boy?”
    These were the first words ever spoken to me by a courier (much to my amusement these days) and they scared the shit out of me. He still had the scowl on his face from spitting venom at the Gizzard and his voice kept the same volume level which was pretty terrifying at this proximity to him. There was also the fact that I was now the centre of attention of this pack of vicious animals and could well suffer the same fate as that poor salesman that I had just seen been ripped to shreds. There was genuine fear in my voice when I eventually managed to stammer my reply.
    “I...I...I’m here to, er see...Aidan,” I sounded so weak and vulnerable to myself that I was sure this pack of predators would pick up on it and I’d be an easy prey for them. It surprised me both that Ger was the only one to speak and what he said.
    “Through that hatch, you’ll see a fat bastard with serious skin problems that’s more than likely screamin’ at somebody. That’s him.”
    He might as well have been a doctor informing me that I didn’t have a terminal disease for the amount of relief that washed over me, taking my anxieties with it like a wave bringing seaweed back out to sea. As my shoulders dropped the foot or so with relief, I smiled and nodded my thanks to him, paused momentarily just in case somebody else was going to comment and then, relieved not to be of any interest to anybody, turned and made my way to the hatch. I was determined to fill out an application form and get out, never to return again.
    As I approached the hatch, the muffled noises that had been in the background became louder and clearer and more functional. The base room of a courier company is a hectic place at the best of times, never short of activity as the base controllers, telephonists, management and whatever other staff had business there did their very best to deal with the unique strains and pressures involved in the running of a courier company.
    The hatch itself consisted of a double wooden framed window on hinges that opened into the base room. One of these was half open with the other one bolted closed with a small bolt holding it via a hole in the blackened wooden ledge at the bottom of it. As I gingerly pushed the open window a little bit more, I realised that the figure seated closest to me fitted the vulgar description that I had received, right down to the screaming part, which he was doing down the phone.
    “You fuckin’ well told me tha’ the fuckin’ thing was on board twenty fuckin’ minutes ago, ye bollix! How the fuck am I meant to control wha’s goin on an’ make sure all yous cunts gets a decent bleedin’ wage when yez think yez can spoof me like tha’? D’ye think I’m some sor’ of gobshite or sum’in? D’you think ye can take the fuckin’ piss ou’ of me an’ fuckin’ ge’ away wi’ it?”
    There was the slightest of pauses to let the poor unfortunate at the other end begin to coordinate some sort of response before continuing in an even louder voice.
    “Well, ye fuckin’ well can’t! Bring yer bag and radio in in the mornin’. I’ve had enough crap off you.”
    As he slammed the phone down it dawned on me that “bring in your bag and radio” to a courier meant “you’re fired”. I didn’t want to talk to this angry little individual any more than I wanted to mingle with the animals behind me, but I couldn’t just walk away from the hatch now.
    “I...er...I...”
    “An’thin’ else goin’ Northside, Aidan?” The courier that had been at the map had practically climbed up my back to roar over my shoulder (and incidentally, directly into my ear) at this nasty little man that controlled these nasty dirty men.
    “Header on wi’ what ye have, Charlie,” replied Aidan without even looking towards the hatch. He was busy looking at the computer screen in front of him and repeatedly tapping one of the directional keys on his