The Brentford Chainstore Massacre Read Online Free PDF Page B

attack?”
    “Coincidence,” said Jim.
    “Oh, right,” said John. “So if I find you lying dead in your kitchen, with your trousers round your ankles and the teapot stuck in your gob, I’ll put that down to coincidence too.”
    “I… er…”
    “Stop it, John,” said Neville. “You’re frightening him.”
    “I’m not scared,” said Pooley.
    “I would be,” said Neville.
    “Me too,” said Old Pete, shuffling up to the bar. “What are we talking about?”
    “Jim’s book,” said John.
    “Jim’s written a book?”
    “No, he’s been given one.”
    “Well, let me have a look at it when he’s finished colouring it in.”
    “Most amusing,” said Jim. “You are as ever the wit.”
    “Large dark rum please, Neville,” said Old Pete. “And give Jim whatever he wants.”
    “He wants a bodyguard,” said Omally, “or possibly a change of identity.”
    “Stop it, John.” Pooley held out the book. “Go on, you take it then. I’ve quite lost interest in the thing.”
    “Not me,” said Omally.
    “You, Neville?” Jim asked.
    “No thank you.” Neville shook his head.
    “Cor blimey,” said Old Pete, “reminds me of that joke about the ten commandments.”
    “What joke’s that?” Jim asked.
    “Well, you see, this is back in biblical times, right, and God goes to the Arabs and he says, ‘Would you like a commandment?’ and the head Arab says, ‘What is it?’ and God says, ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery,’ and the head Arab says, ‘No thanks, we do that all the time, we enjoy it.’
    “So God goes to the Egyptians and he says to the Pharaoh, ‘Would you like a commandment?’ and the Pharaoh says, ‘What is it?’ and God says, ‘Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s wife, or his ass or whatever,’ and the Pharaoh says, ‘No thanks, coveting’s what we do best, we thrive on it.’
    “So finally God goes to the Jews and he says to Moses, ‘Would you like a commandment?’ and Moses says, ‘How much do they cost?’ and God says, ‘They’re free.’ So Moses says… ‘I’ll take ten.’” Old Pete collapsed in laughter.
    “Surely that is anti-Semitic,” said Jim.
    “Not when it’s told by a Jew. Especially one who’s just bought you a drink. But I’ll take that free book if it’s still going.”
    “That’s all right,” said Omally. “I’ll take it.”
    When Neville called time for the lunchtime session, Pooley and Omally parted company. John returned to his rooms in Mafeking Avenue and Jim took himself to his favourite bench before the Memorial Library. It was here, on this almost sacred spot, that, Jim did most of his really heavyweight thinking. Here where he dreamed his dreams and made his plans. Here too where he sat and smoked and soaked up sunshine.
    Jim placed his bum upon the bench and stretched his legs before him. He’d been shafted again. Omally would root out whatever sensational disclosures the book held and profit therefrom and Jim would wind up empty-handed. But surely John wouldn’t grab the lot? He was Jim’s best friend, after all. There’d be something in it for Jim. But probably not a very substantial something.
    Jim sighed and stretched and wriggled himself into comfort. Stuff the silly book. What did he care about that? He was destined for far higher things, financially speaking.
    Jim rooted about in his jacket pockets and pulled out a crumpled pamphlet. This was his passport to fortune. He uncrumpled the pamphlet and smoothed out its edges.
    Time Travel for Fun and Profit by Hugo Rune
    This was the kiddie. Jim had come across it quite by chance – if there really was such a thing as chance, which Mr Rune seemed to doubt. Jim had purchased a large cod and chips and Archie Karachi of the Star of Bombay Curry Garden (and Tasty-chip Patio) had wrapped them up in this very pamphlet.
    Jim had studied the pamphlet with interest. It wasn’t one of those build-your-own-time-machine science fiction jobbies, more one of your