The escape - at last - well nearly but not quite yet

Want to read how it all started?

Simondo looked straight at his boss Barry; well he would have done except his glass eye tended to swivel in its socket because it wasn’t quite the right size. “So, Simondo”, he said, trying not to stare at the eye that was floating about like an apple bobbing in a bowl of water, “today’s your last day with us, excited about getting to NASA for that astronaut training then?” Simondo blushed slightly and then delivered a beaming smile at Barry before clearing his throat and saying, “sure thang bawssss”, in a faux mid Atlantic accent, followed by a double click of the tongue and a wink with his good eye.

Cheesy wasn’t the word for it but Simondo thought he sounded just like his heroes Starsky and Hutch. He’d often role play a scene or two from his favourite cop show, dropping to the ground shouting “cover me” to his flat mate Sy as he rolled over and imitated the double-hand-hold-and-point of a Smith and Wesson revolver before shouting “freeze mother fucker or today you die” at some imaginary felon. It didn’t always look as good as Simondo imagined due to the fact that he was missing an index finger and thumb on his right hand, and so it looked more like one good hand and a small three fingered garden fork taking on the world. Nonetheless, his good mate Sy was always up for a lark as they played cops and robbers with endless hours of ducking, diving and rolling and jumping out from behind settees and armchairs and rugby tackling each other to the ground before heading off to the pub to get bladdered together.

Barry cringed at Simondo’s American impression but listened as Simondo babbled on about his plans and how he was so thrilled to be part of the NASA ‘Affirmative Action’ programme; one that allowed people of superior intellect with disabilities to be jettisoned into space. “Never one to brag about himself”, thought Barry wryly, as he rolled his eyes at the sheer enormity of Simondo’s whopper of a tale and excuse for leaving his job as a senior computer operator. He had to stifle a snigger for he at least could roll his eyes. Last time he’d seen Simondo try it his glass eye pointed south east whilst the good eye did a perfect roll – a real site to behold and one that never failed to raise hysterical fits of laugher from the girls in the office - laughter that said 'we're laughing at you, not with you'.

Simondo congratulated himself at the cleverness of his deception and the tale he had spun for it not only made him look good but he was certain that it was so believable that no one would ever look for him in France. His all consuming obsession with all things American had acted as a natural background for him to spin his tale of a new life there when in all reality he was going on the run with his soul mate and paramour Hortense.

“Well, this is goodbye then”, Barry said, as he stood to shake Simondo’s hand before steering him from his office. As they reached the office door, Simondo stopped and held out what would have been the middle finger of his maimed hand and asked Barry to pull it. Looking somewhat perplexed but in an effort to humour him Barry acquiesced and pulled Simondo’s finger as instructed. In perfect synchronicity Simondo cocked his leg and let rip a humongous fart that left a scorch mark in the arse of his jeans. “Jesus fucking Christ, you filthy little bastard”, shouted Barry as he gagged and ran to throw a chair through his hermetically sealed office window. But it was too late, and Simondo could smell the fruits of his labour seeping through the air conditioning as he shouted, “see ya boss, don’t forget me now will ya?!”, and strolled laughing into the HR office to pick up his P45. He didn’t see Barry’s murderous look and one finger salute at his back as he walked away.

“Was that you Margie?; are you a bit loose again dear?” Blanche, the HR manager asked of her P.A. as she wafted away the repugnant smell from beneath her nose. “No it fucking wasn’t Blanche”, said Margie with a pinched look and an air of disgust in her voice that her boss could accuse her of dropping something so lethally bad that her face had turned green. “Better check out your own underwear dear, see if there isn’t a few skid marks in there that need scraping out before accusing me”, she spat back, as she indignantly adjusted her hounds-tooth jacket and pearl necklace.

“Well, Margie, really there’s no need for......”

“Hello”, said Simondo, interrupting the bickering of the two old relics that ran what he often called Human Remains. “I’m here for my P45”, he said barely containing his glee that the smell from his fart in Barry’s office had seeped through to Hinge and Bracket’s inner sanctum. He nodded in quiet approval as this was vintage Simondo and one of his better efforts of late, thanks to increasing the vegetarian content of his diet. He'd lost count of the amount of times he’d been admonished in here for his ‘lack of decorum’ as the two old duffers called it, never allowing the word fart to leave their lips lest they faint at such crudeness. "Christ, he must have excelled himself if old Margie was using the F word, could his last day here end any better?”, he asked himself. Taking the P45 that Margie held out to him between her forefinger and thumb as if she were handing it to a leper, he proffered his thanks through what might have been an engaging smile on anyone else but on him just looked like a leer. Leaving the inner sanctum, he stopped just inside the office door and let out a silent but violent arse burp before turning and smiling widely and waving at Blanche and Margie as they sat in shock, realising what he’d done. “Have that one on me ladies”, he said inbetween snorts of gut wrenching laughter as he tried but failed to walk upright to say goodbye to the girls in the office.

Tearing around the office in a frenzy, Margie and Blanche ripped drawers and cupboards apart looking for their stash of matches they kept solely for when Simondo dropped his guts in their office. “Sorry ladies, but I needed a light for my fags”, said the cheeky note left in place by Simondo, who had cleared them out of matches last week when he’d broken into their office on a night shift...........................

Finally getting himself under control, Simondo made his way to the admin office. Not trusting his swollen sphincter to deliver one more time without crapping his pants, he gingerly removed the box of stink bombs from his pocket. With six or so bombs in his good hand he held them in his other pocket where he’d cut a hole the night before. One by one he stopped at each desk to say goodbye to the girls whilst he dropped and rolled a stink bomb down his leg and crushed it before moving swiftly to the next desk. Within seconds it was all over and a baffled bunch of admin girls looked on astonished that Simondo hadn’t tried to grope their tits or belch in their faces before saying his last goodbye. “Any second now", he thought, then lobbed a "goodbye you bunch of bitchy old harridans”, at them as his parting shot before he legged it speedily from the office and down the corridor. He hid in the stairwell and moments later he could hear the screeching and barfing of the admin girls as they ran from their office gasping for any kind oxygen only to be confronted by the rest of the stink bombs he’d let off all the way down the corridor on his way out. His laughter echoed around the stairwell and he almost wet himself as he heard cries of, "where are you you stinking bastard, you're a dead man Simondo" and "when I get my hands on you, you'll never shit in my hemisphere again you litle turd, not with my size nines up your arse".......

Delighted at the trail of devastation he’d left behind him, Simondo hummed 'you've got me beggin' you for mercy' as he got into his Dagenham dustbin 1976 customised red 3 litre Ford Capri with the white go-faster stripes down the sides and headed off home. Dagenham Dave had done him proud getting him this little beauty. "No poxy old cut-and-shut Skoda for him", thought Simondo. “It was the good life for him and Hortense from now on”, he promised himself as he parked and walked into his apartment to wait until it was time to leave.

“Hi Sy”, he said as he entered the flat.

Sy’s mood was quite low but he didn’t want to let Simondo see how sad it was making him that his only mate was leaving Blighty for good. “Hi Mondo”, he said. “When you off then?

“Oh, 0300am”, he said, as he popped a cold beer and slumped down into the black leatherette couch. “Picking up Horty and that mad bat Camilla just as the warders change shifts; less chance of getting caught that way according to Horty”, he offered.

“What did you get as a leaving present then?”, asked Sy trying to make conversation to take his mind off his pal’s impending departure from his life.

“Oh not bad really, I got a pair of fluffy dice for the luuurrrve machine and Glen Campbell’s greatest hits. How about that?”, he beamed, for Glen was the holy grail of country and western music as far as he was concerned. Sy preferred Bruce Spunkstain himself, but nodded his head appreciatively, for it was he who had given Mondo's work colleagues the heads-up on that one. “Can’t wait to take Horty line dancing “, he said as Sy tried his damndest to see how that would work.

Spending the few hours they had left together, they sat in companionable silence as Mondo watched re-runs of Starsky and Hutch and the Dukes of Hazzard whilst Sy buried his head in his new blog. “Best try and make some new friends”, he thought as he spent the evening visiting blogs and leaving witty comments here and there.

At 0230am Simondo tucked his check shirt into his jeans and pulled on his new cowboy boots before swinging his travel bag over his shoulder. “See ya mate”, he said quickly to Sy suddenly feeling all weepy. “See ya mate”, said Sy back, and he too felt himself welling up. “Call me eh, when you get settled like?”, he asked forlornly, for he knew that he couldn’t ever see Simondo again; it was too risky in case he was followed.

With that Simondo turned his back and left. Sy heard the click as the door closed and returned to his blogging, tears rolling down his face........

Simondo, fired up the ignition and wiped away his tears with the back of his hand then put the car into gear and roared off with part heavy heart and part excited to start the next part of his life....."Love came in many guises, but being in love with Hortense was the deepest, best love of all", he thought, as he headed towards his paramour.....