Tom was late with his writing prompt. Tom’s never late with his writing prompt. I gave him a ring.
tom
He picked up.
‘blaargblegarrrblleglaabbbble.’
‘Hello? Tom, is that you?’
‘blaargblegarrrblleglaabbbble.’ Someone else took the phone. ‘Hello, who is it please?’ A woman’s voice. Tom’s mum.
‘It’s _______.’
‘Oh hi ________. Sorry about that, Tom is having a bit of trouble at the minute. I’m afraid he’s turned into a bit of a squid.’
‘A bit of a squid?’
‘Well, Tim thinks he’s more of a cuttlefish, but we looked it up and he definitely looks more like a squid.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes, it’s the worst I’ve seen him actually. A touch translucent and clammy normally, but he’s quite bad this time. We’ve had to put him in the bath.’ She paused. ‘He was getting ink on the sofa you see.’ She proffered as an explanation.
‘Well I’m sorry to hear that, I hope it doesn’t get as bad as Mark.’
‘Oh no, not as bad as Mark.’ They both paused, reflecting on how bad it was with Mark. ‘Me and Tim are sick of calamari now anyway, sick of it. But in these economic times…’
‘Yes yes, we all understood.’
‘In these economic times you see.’ She continued, trailing off. The automatic justification of a woman worn down through explanation.