Hades' Halls

Go to Hell

I must admit that this is not my finest work but that's what first drafts are for

Sean Brown rolled his neck to try and relieve the crick which had accumulated at the top of his spine. Boy oh boy it had been a long day. First there had been nowhere to sit on the bus and no one had offered him a seat even when he made a point of rubbing his lower back and sighing like the elderly did. Then, Mandy at reception had not laughed at his jokes even though he had put on his most dashing smile, and had only raised her eyebrows when he complimented her on her hair. Then, somebody, probably the cleaners had moved his stuff about his desk so that his pencil pot was on his left side rather than right. Then, to add insult to injury, after Dave from two desks down had offered to make drinks, he proceeded to waste time chatting with the blond from HR so when Sean finally got his drink, it was lukewarm.

It had just been a day full of inconveniences. Sean really needed a drink and a hot meal and an evening sitting in front of the television watching shoot-em-up films. All of which Sean was going to get, bonuses of living with your mum.

A dog came to sniff Sean's knee. It was a medium sized with a well brushed brown coat and a wagging tail. Grimacing, Sean tried to shoo it away, dogs had never been his style and this one seemed to be trying to speak to him. Possibly saying, 'here scratch my back'.

Eyes roving for the owner to implore them to call the mutt away, Sean's gaze rested on a young man holding copies of The Big Issue whilst smiling at the interplay between his dog and Sean. Absentmindedly, Sean scratched the dog behind the ears. It seemed to like this, closing its eyes and leaning heavily against his leg.

'I'm going to have to get these washed', thought Sean, the idea of smelling like street dog making his insides crawl.

"Ha. She likes you mate", said the young man smiling affectionately at his dog.

'Mate?' thought Sean. 'The last person who called me mate was that bar tender I decked on my twenty fourth.'

"She must be able to smell mine", replied Sean in desperate want of something to say.

What did you say to dog owners? They were another species entirely. Sean had seen them on the streets, nodding to each other as they passed with 'Morning' on their lips even when it was half two in the afternoon. They were not to be trusted.

"What sort?", asked the man, apparently genuinely interested.

Forehead creased, Sean tried to decipher the code. Failing he asked "What sort, what?"

"What sort of dog do you have."

"Ohhhhh", Sean shook his head as if laughing at his own stupidity. "Sorry, long day. I have a ... Bulldog".

"Nice", said the man apparently still interested in carrying on the conversation. "Name?"

"Uhhhh, Chamberlain", said Sean grasping.

Looking ever so slightly judgmental the man said, "Fair do's".

Sean nodded. The man nodded. Together they looked like a pair of bobbleheads in opposite windows.

"I think this one's a waste of time".

Sean inserted a finger in his ear and swivelled it around. He thought he'd heard someone whispering but looking around there was no one standing by him, just people heading home after work.

While he looked around the dog had trotted back to her master leaving Sean standing there with no reason to be doing so. Things were becoming a little awkward.