Hippolyte Minge, whippet-thin and fierce looking like an anorexic Jacobite, eyes his assessor malevolently.
“Now, Mr Minge. You say you’ve had this nervous bowel complaint
let’s see….since you were abducted by aliens in 2007?”
The ravaged face of Minge confirmed this was the case. He
looked ceiling-ward as if said aliens may return at any minute.
The assessor, one Tracy Dung from Clermiston, gazed at the
dust and the way it floated before the sun-dazzled window. She thought it
pretty and wondered why she didn’t pay attention to such things more often. The
simple and totally gratis pleasures of life.
She looked at the meagre figure and decided to humour it and
his tale of alien abduction. She’d heard some stories in her time as an
assessor with Exterminate Services but this was a new one even for her.
“Middle ae the night. It was a Tuesday. I’d been watching
Crimewatch!”
Hippolyte Minge rambled on about how they ‘looked a bit like
metal detectors’ and how they’d fed him some fluid and he’d been soiling
himself ever since.
“The Four Humours they kept oan aboot. Sounded a bit medieval
to me. Ranting oan aboot the balance ae ma bile juices!”
“When you say you were abducted, Mr Minge,, where did they
take you?”
“Hard tae say as it wis daurk. Certainly away oot by the
airport. Mibbe Ratho wiy?”
This guys mental, thought Tracy. A Reg 29 case, for sure.
Either that or he deserves signing off just for his cheek. She looked again at
the dust and thought of the inevitability of mortality.
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