A Bad Day

Michael was having a bad day. That morning, a customer traipsed dog pooh onto his swanky new carpets, leaving a stench so bad that he had had to close his shop for the day and organize an emergency carpet cleaning crew. At lunchtime, his toddler niece had thrown up all over his best suit. Michael, being a sympathetic puker, had repeated the action, but managed to get to the loo just in time. His sister was very apologetic, insisting that she would have the reeking items cleaned and had lent him her husband’s ‘clean’ running clothes. The clothes might be clean but there was a lingering odour of stale sweat that obviously never washed out.

In the afternoon, he had an argument with his new girlfriend, Sharon, after helpfully suggesting that she wear a less sickly perfume that evening. This had gone down like the Titanic and she had not only worn the offensive perfume but worn LOTS of it, to make her point. He and a friend had been stuck in the car on the way to a party feeling quite faint from the noxious fumes, although Sharon didn’t notice.

Arriving late for the party, Michael dropped a still bristling Sharon and friend by the Thames, and then hurried off to find somewhere to park. Beginning to panic, Michael decided to chance a ticket and parked in a street with double yellow lines. He knew that even if there was only one traffic warden working in London that night, they would be waiting around the corner just for him, but he needed to hurry or the party boat would leave without him. That would be a typical end to his day, he thought. Locking the car, he ran off hoping his passengers would still be where he had left them.

The party had been great fun, although he found he could smell Sharon’s perfume wherever he went on the boat, even in the malodorous gent’s toilets, then he realised that the ghastly stuff must have impregnated his clothes. Even the smell of food and booze couldn’t quite mask the revolting stuff. He would buy her something a little less repulsive as a present, he decided.

The party over, the trio walked back to the car. They were full of party food and drink and were feeling cheerful. Even Sharon seemed to have gotten over her sulk and was walking happily, hand in hand with Michael. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad day, he thought, although he would have to wait and see if he had a parking ticket.

As they turned the corner into Horse Guards Avenue, where the car was parked, they were stunned to find it shut off with security tape. The anti-terrorist squad were wandering back and forth and the strangest smell filled the air. There was a smoky, metallic, acrid whiff coming from the street. In fact, not just the street, but from Michael’s car! He yelled at the officers and was eventually allowed nearer his beloved Honda Civic.

“You were seen running away from the vehicle on CCTV” explained an officer.

“We thought that it was suspicious. Tomorrow is Remembrance Day and the ceremony will be held very nearby.”

Michael looked at what had been his lovely car. It was ruined. The windows had been blown out. The bonnet and hood were crumpled and open where the controlled explosions had been detonated. Smoke, in delicate plumes, rose from the wreck and a putrid smell of burnt upholstery and the rotten egg smell of the explosives filled his nose.

This really had been a very bad day!