A Bad Case of the Mondays

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
Tony Holly was having a bad day. Everything was going wrong. He would just have to keep his temper. Would anything go right?

Submitted: October 03, 2016

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Submitted: October 03, 2016

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Tony Holly took the stairs two at a time. Of all the days to sleep through the alarm. He simply couldn’t be late for work. Not this morning. Knotting his tie he rushed through into the living room.

He swore. His dog, a Labrador called Lennon, had done a job in the middle of the floor. It would have to be this day that his normally well behaved dog decided to hold a dirty protest. Grumbling to the confused canine that the ‘really didn’t need this’ he cleaned up the mess as quickly as he could.

He shrugged into his suit jacket, tossed Lennon a handful of dog biscuits and headed out the door to the car. He pulled out onto the main road. Before he could get into third gear the traffic slowed to a crawl. No, no, no. Don’t do this. The snaking queue of cars moved along at walking pace. He swore and glanced at his watch. The meeting was due to start at nine. His manager and director would be going through a key account. He just had to be there.

The traffic crawled. Tony felt sick.

After what seemed like at eternity the traffic started flowing. He put his foot down. Right, I just might make it for nine.

Then he noticed the petrol light. The needle on the gauge was below the empty mark. Bloody typical. He turned into the supermarket petrol station. He jumped out of the car and filled up. At least he could pay at the pump using his card. He swiped his debit card. An egg timer appeared on the tiny screen. A moment later the words ‘Not In Service’ flashed up. I do not believe it. He dashed across the forecourt to the kiosk. Hoping the queue would be small he rushed through the door. One woman, grey hair, long overcoat, shopping trolley by her side was being served at the till. Excellent. Shouldn’t be a minute. He waited. And he waited. The old dear seemed to be asking a dozen questions. He couldn’t make out exactly what she was going on about but ‘her friend Joyce’ who ‘used to work at the bakery’. She waved the box of porridge in her hand. It was porridge. How complicated could it be?

He tutted noisily, shaking his head as the conversation continued. He really couldn’t afford to wait. Come on, he grumbled. He tapped his foot on the lino. He heard her ask if she could try some of the porridge so she could make her mind up. The cashier simply shook her head in reply.

‘I really don’t know what to do. I am awful with big decisions.’ She said.

She stared at the porridge box deep in thought.

‘Oh for goodness sake.’ Tony yelled.

She turned to look at him.

‘It’s flipping porridge. That’s all.’

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

‘Are you deaf? And I don’t know how you can eat that slop anyway.’

He growled ‘Pump four’ at the cashier and tossed three ten pound notes on the counter. He heard the old lady sobbing as he charged out the door.

He ran through the office doors at nine fifteen. He marched to his desk. His workmates pointed to the boardroom. Already started. Tony straightened his tie and took a deep breath. He knocked gently on the boardroom door and entered.  

His manager and director were deep in conversation, going through the files in question. His manager glanced up over his reading glasses.

‘Nice of you to join us.’

‘I’m so sorry. Having a nightmare this morning.’

‘Everyone else seems to have made it in on time.’ said the director. ‘If you took this account seriously you would have made sure you were here for this meeting.’

‘I can assure you-’

‘We need to crack on.’

Tony took a seat.

The meeting progressed and felt more like an interrogation than a business meeting.

Just before five o’clock Tony text a few of his friends.

A bad case of the Mondays. Anyone fancy a pint?

Two hours later Tony entered the pub. He waved to his friends and went to the bar. That sip, that first taste of cold lager really hit the spot. Graham and Allan raised their glasses. Cheers.

‘Bad day then, Ton’?’

‘Lads, you have no idea.’

A few pints later Graham gave him a nudge. He pointed to the bar.

‘Who is that?’

Tony and Allan turned. At the bar was a woman in a long flowing dress. She sipped a glass of wine. The lads stared at her. She had dark brown hair that reached her shoulders. She had a classy air about her. She reminded Tony of a film star. He necked the last of his pint.

‘I’m going over.’

‘Really? She’s way out of your league.’

‘How often does a woman like that come in here? Worse case, she bins me off. Besides, the day I’ve had, things couldn’t get much worse.’

While the lads looked on Tony went to the bar.

‘I’ve never seen you in here before. Are you lost? Do you need directions?’

She gave a chuckle.

‘I was visiting a friend who lives round the corner. I fancied a drink before heading home.’

‘I’m glad you did. Can I get you another?’

‘On a week night?’ she smiled. ‘Do you think we should?’

‘Absolutely. It’s Monday. We need a few drinks to get us through.’

‘Go on then.’

The conversation flowed easily. Tony found Ingrid so easy to talk to.

After a few more drinks Tony suggested going on somewhere else.

‘Yes, why not?’

Still unable to believe his luck Tony finished his drink.

On the pavement outside he put his arm gently around her shoulder. She turned, leaned in and kissed him. He held her tight and kissed her back. They walked on through the darkness. Tony held her hand. She gave his fingers a squeeze.

‘We could go back to my place.’ She said. ‘You could stay over, if you like.’

After an awful start to the day things finally seemed to be going his way. Maybe you had to endue the crap, had to keep going, in order for something good to happen.

‘That would be really nice.’ He replied.

They stepped out of the glow of the streetlight.

‘I could do you porridge for breakfast.’ She said. ‘Oh no, you don’t eat that slop, do you?’

They stepped into the glow of the next streetlight. Tony gasped. Staring back at him still wearing the long dress and still holding his hand, was the elderly woman he’d lost his temper with that morning.


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