sheldrake

Ugh. I thought this cold was going away, but today I feel as though someone's poured glue into my head.

Good stuff in the Observer this week: I'm completely fascinated by Grayson Perry, the transvestite potter nominated for the Turner Prize. Also, I think I need Nigel Slater's book. Here he talks about food and sex.

Haven't done much this morning. Went to the Co-op -- the girl putting the vegetables out was giving me evil looks. Helped galactic_jack plan lessons, which was fun, more so because I don't have to teach any of them.



Me and the other janitor, Nabb, are polishing the floors in the basement. I like Nabb, he's a good guy. He likes a laugh and a joke, even when times are tough, like now. Everybody else is down here too, see, because of all the dinosaurs roaming around the building. The children are getting fractious though, so they send me upstairs to get the cardboard Noah's Ark.

The wide stairways are deserted as I gallop up them two at a time, my hands slipping with sweat on the ornate railings, the plush carpets soft under my feet. There doesn't seem anything to worry about -- everything's quiet. Up at the top though, right up on the top floor, it's different. A herd of prehistoric rhinos have made their way up here, and they're casually browsing from the long queue of janitors waiting patiently to get into the Cardboard Noah's Ark Room. For some reason, all the janitors seem surprised when their throats are torn out by the rhinos. The rhinos seem quite happy. I decide I'm not going to bother joining the queue, although it is getting shorter all the time.

I skip quickly back to the stairwell and run down as fast as I can. I didn't even know I could run this fast. My feet don't seem to be touching the ground. It's like flying. Down and round and down and round. Floor after floor after floor. I look behind. Can I hear the rhinos? Can I see them? Are they following me? I'm sure I'll see one any minute, they must be following. They want to eat me because I'm a janitor and janitors taste good. Panic, don't panic. Suddenly, on the next floor down, I hear something. There's something down there, lying in wait. It rustles, a quick, stealthy sound. I think it must be those little bird-like dinosaurs, the ones that hunt in packs and tear you to pieces. My heart thuds. I have to go on though, I have to get back to the basement.

Slowly, slowly, I edge down the stairs. I don't make a sound, I'm very, very quiet. Ah! A flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. No time to think. But it's just a monkey. That's all. Nothing but a harmless monkey. I let out my pent-up breath as it disappears down a silent corridor.

Quick now, before the rhinos come. Down the last flight of stairs, here's the gate at the bottom, all wrought iron and fancy gold paint. Must lock it, it could deter the dinosaurs and rhinos. But the catch is stuck and sweaty in my hands. I can't do it, it won't -- no time. I have to leave it and go.

Back in the basement, they've all forgotten about the Noah's Ark anyway. I look around for Nabb, but I can't see him. Where's Nabb?

"Oh, he's polishing the floors in the computer room," someone says.

The computer room. But that's upstairs -- it's dangerous. There are dinosaurs up there.

I pull out my cellphone and punch in the number of the computer room. Come on Nabb, answer the phone. But it just rings. And rings. And rings.

***

In the computer room the phone rings and rings and rings. Nabb tries to reach for it, he tries and tries. But he can't. He has no skeleton, no muscles or flesh. He's nothing but a bag of skin, a puddle of skin on the shiny floor. On the other side of the room, a man pushes a machine along. The machine hums as it polishes. The man whistles along with the machine. The sleeves of his janitor's uniform are rolled all the way up to the elbows, so that when he looks down, he can see his strong, handsome arms. He thinks he looks a lot like Nabb, only scalier, and a nicer shade of green.