The Further Adventures Of Miguel Button

© 2013 David Jasmin-Green

“Excuse me, Madam,” Miguel Button said to the spotty, rather delicate looking young man stacking shelves in the Pound Shop. “Do you have any frangipani in stock at hall by hany chance?”

“Frangipani?” the youth said. “What's that?”

“I have no hidea,” Miguel replied, “but it sounds rather naice, don't you think? It's got a lovely, poetic ring to it, a bit like Popocatépetl, which is a Mexican volcano - I know you don't stock volcanoes, ha-ha, ho-ho, hee-hee..... I halso like the word 'squamous', which means covered in scales or scale-like.”

“If you don't know what it is, how can you know that you want it?” the youth said.

“I just do, HoK? I want some fucking frangipani. Haven't you been trained in customer service, young woman – don't you know that the customer is halways right? I want some frangipani right now, or I'll hold my breath until my head hexplodes!”

“I've only worked here for a week,” the youth said, his cheeks flushing a deep red. “Hang around, I'll go and ask Mrs. Latham, the Floor Manager on duty.”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Latham,” the boy whispered. “That bloke over there just asked me for some, erm, I've forgotten what he said. I think he's a nutter, he's talking a load of rubbish.”

“Shh! He might hear you,” Mrs. Latham said. “If I ever catch you calling a potential customer a nutter again I'll sack you on the spot, whether or not your accusation is supported by a psychiatric report. Don't you know that the customer is always right, my boy? I'll deal with the gentleman, and at the same time I'll give you a lesson in customer service – I'll show you how the experts deal with enquiries from members of the public. Hello Sir, what was it you were looking for? I'm sorry about Nigel, he's new.”

“I'd like some frangipani, please,” Miguel said. “Preferably lots of it.”

“What is frangipani, exactly?”

“I'm not sure, but I like the sound of it and I want some.”

“I see,” Mrs. Latham said.

“I know what frangipani is,” a little old woman who was looking at low energy light bulbs said. “Actually the word has more than one meaning, so you can take your pick. Firstly it refers to any of several tropical American deciduous shrubs or trees of the genus Plumeria, having milky sap and showy, fragrant, funnel-shaped, variously coloured flowers - it's also called the temple tree. Secondly it's a perfume derived from or similar in scent to the flowers of one of these shrubs or trees. And lastly it's a creamy pastry filling flavoured with almonds. The word comes from a sixteenth century Italian marquis called Muzio Frangipani, if you're interested.”

“Thank you, Madam, you're so kind,” Mrs. Latham said, treating the woman to a big cheesy grin that signified 'thank you, now piss off'. “So which kind of frangipani are you looking for, Sir – the American shrub, the perfume or the almond flavoured pastry filling?”

“Actually the pastry filling sounds rather nice.”

“I'm sorry to disappoint you, but we don't stock it.”

“Bugger,” Miguel said. “I'll take the American shrub instead, I suppose.”

“We don't stock that either.”

“The perfume?”

“No, I'm afraid not.”

“And you have the cheek to call yourself a nice sounding words supply shop? I suppose you haven't got any tarmacadam or catacomb or Hatacama desert either. This is habsolutely hatrocious, houtrageous service - I'm writing to the papers, trading standards and sending a bitter letter of complaint to my MP.”

“You do that, honey.”

“I told you he was a nutter,” Nigel mumbled.

“Honey?” Miguel said. “Nobody's called me honey since I had a brief, ill-fated affair with Samantha from the NHS Walk-in centre last Tuesday. She got me drunk on Blue sodding Nun, and I don't know what happened after that but my bottom is still sore now..... Do you fancy a dabble with a slightly loopy but otherwise very nice man, Mrs. Latham?”

“No, I bloody well don't.”

“How about you, Nigella?”

“Erm..... Yeah, go on then, I love weirdos.”