Saturday 12 October 2013

250 Words: The story of the passport and the dodgem token

The passport, Liocorn, and the dodgem token, 3, had been friends for some time (by their terms of measurement) on top of an apartment table.  “Hello, how are you today?” Liocorn might say, 3 often replying, “Yeah, good mate, thanks, yeah.”  And through the day the pair would talk about their lives before or play games such as I-spy or three coin football.

All was great until the day Liocorn got to thinking about things.  Things like his size relative to that of 3.  About his relative importance in the greater scheme of things.  And about how 3 was a suddenly very annoying luminous colour.  And life began to change on that apartment table top.

Liocorn would stand up, fan out, look down on 3 and bellow orders at the small round piece of plastic.  And so a life of luxury began for Liocorn while 3 returned to days of servitude.

“I didn’t escape the fair in Ian’s pocket for this,” 3 would sniff while making snacks for his master and he himself got round to doing some thinking.

And so the Second Day of Change came when 3 finally snapped and fought Liocorn to the death, first pushing the fascist to the floor, dragging his stunned body to, and through, the missing pane in the door and, against all odds, won a brief fight on the balcony that resulted in Liocorn falling to the street below.

And that’s how Graham lost his passport (if you ignore various so-called “facts”).

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