How Hay U became a Piggy (4 min reading time)
By Barbara Harrison
In the year 2025 Hay found herself with her nose right up against the grey mould.
She’d sardonically started thinking of herself as “Hay”, “Hay U”, in full. It was a defence mechanism against the inevitable “Hey You’s” staff at the hotel were subjected to. It was one of those high-end boutique places, owned by a man who went by Sir, and frequented by the type of customer who apologised for rudeness in cash.
The originator of the mouldy shower had been one of the more “quirky” ones. That is he’d taken up permanent residence in the wedding suite, but refused all assistance apart from room service. This had to be left outside the door. When he finally left it was feet first.
The place was in a horrendous state. She’d started in the restroom meaning to get the worst of it out of the way as soon as possible.
She’d already won most of the battle against the disgusting mould. Only one patch remained. The rest disintegrated into the tile cleaner she was using. Small charcoal orbs drifted lazily in the creamy liquid.
There were long threads of black and grey matter woven through the remaining patch, over and into the un-scrubbed drain. They had a slight sheen about them, a lustre, actually quite beautiful.
Suddenly she was overcome with guilt for the destruction she had wrought. Hay sensed the desperate life that rushed there, the energy of creation.
“Oh no!” a voice, seemingly inside her head screamed. Only then did she rock back on her haunches. “Thank God for the extra PPE!” she thought.
She’d borrowed the Personal Protective Equipment from another student at the college where she was doing an after-hours course in Home Care for the elderly.
That was also where she’d learnt about the mould.
One of the hotel managers, who also worked for the man who went by Sir, had handed her a pair of gloves and a cotton mask the previous day on informing her of the wedding suite clean-up. It was clearly inadequate, but she was already late for class, so she’d taken off without a word.
The mould was particularly dangerous when inhaled in large amounts, but it had clearly not immediately taken care of the previous occupant of the suite.
“How much? How much of it would it take to kill you? And how little did the man who went by Sir care what he was exposing his staff to,” Hay mused.
Maybe she should leave him just a little? It would be a roll of the die…
“Wait one minute!” the voice, clearly her problematic conscience, screeched again. “If this is your thing, maybe just join the police. You could put it to use for the greater good!”
When Hay did finally graduate as a police officer she knew she had just taken the first step to success.
******
The man who went by Sir, was quite surprised when he saw Hay’s graduation pictures online. He couldn’t remember her name. Didn’t bother to check the caption.
He was feeling very under the weather, but the doctor couldn’t determine what was wrong. “Sir,” he said “It’s probably something you picked up in the United States. I begged you with tears in my eyes ‘don’t go’. They’re not doing vaccines anymore!”
******
Even when one of ‘those’ voices rang out again, Hay’s enthusiasm would not be stilled.
“Hey you, Pig! Hey you, Piggy!” the voice teased.
As always Hay maintained her professionalism.
“Yes, Sir, how can I help?” she answered flashing a disarming smile.
An End
Disclaimer – The above is entirely a work of fiction, as are all the characters in it. No AI assistance was used during the creation thereof. Please note, as always, my stories are aimed at amusing and entertaining. It is only pulp fiction after all.
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