The story of my new PC v2

This post was pub­lished over 700 days ago and there­fore may not rep­res­ent cur­rent Out­side Con­text think­ing or opin­ion. Please, do not let that detract from your enjoy­ment of it!

Con­tin­ued from Part Two

So, Sat­urday rolls around and Cesca and I jump in the car at a god early time in the morn­ing and rush all the way around the M25 to Basil­don. It is too early in the morn­ing for me to get up any head of anger and a strange killing calm is evid­ent in the car as we drive. I think Cesca has come just to make sure I don’t shoot any­one, but she is relaxed as she thinks that for me to be really really angry I need to be awake. Hence, she has got us mov­ing before I got a cup of cof­fee. In actual fact my level is up to the Hulk in one of his planet smash­ing ram­pages. Cesca should be wor­ried because I have a secret weapon ready.

Amtrak is in a Trad­ing estate near the motor­way and fol­low­ing the tra­di­tional Brit­ish for­mula of these things, it is best described as a real shit hole of epic pro­por­tions. A hive of scum and vil­lainy with rub­bish dumped every­where and evil look­ing ware­house front­ages with pokey little offices. We park up and I prac­tice my look;

The Look:The Look is one of prac­ticed pure malevolence.

It is The Man With No Name pissed off,

“You gonna draw those pis­tols or whistle Dixy?”

Kaiser Sosa being in a line up,

“Hand me the keys you fuck­ing cock sucker”

Butch being called “paunchy”,

“What did you just say?”

My wife knows it as “my killing look” and gives me a little kiss on the cheek to calm me down. We leave the car and approach the door, where I knock. This is ignored. So I ham­mer with my first which makes a ungodly noise. The door opens I come face to face with my nemesis; the lady from the phone calls. In real life she is even more repuls­ive look­ing than in my ima­gin­a­tion, I shud­der to think of what her paint­ing in the attic looks like. She is old and fat and mean. She eyes me up and down and jerks a thumb sig­nal­ing that we should join a line of quiv­er­ing mem­bers of the pub­lic all wait­ing, end­lessly wait­ing, for their packages.

I save The Look for later and sheep­ishly join. Not a word has actu­ally been said.

This line was an amaz­ing exper­i­ence. Everything in this office moves at a gla­cial pace that would have tried the patience of a Buddha and had Gentle Jesus bit­ing his knuckles in frus­tra­tion. It actu­ally gave me a moments glimpse of the of the after­life as only Limbo could be more end­less and pain­ful. In fact, I think the pope is wrong, people don’t go to Limbo; they simply come here and wait in this office.

Finally, she rolls around to look­ing for my parcel’s inform­a­tion on the sys­tem. After the con­sulta­tion of her com­puter she pro­nounced her favour­ite catch phrase, “We don’t do night deliveries”.

My wife almost ducked.

You see, I have been a mar­tial artist for 14 years; I have 2 national titles and 1 inter­na­tional title. For my black belt I broke three bricks using my hands and feet and spared against two other black belts at once. I am also 6ft 2 and 18 Stone and thus can loom when I want to.

I didn’t react out­side of my head. In my head Bruce Lee unleashed the whoop’ass. I saved The Look and merely grunted. After all this is all much the same as usual for me and I hadn’t had any cof­fee or breakfast.

She con­tin­ued and explained that since Wat­ford had to author­ise any deliv­ery changes and they are ignor­ing ALL meth­ods of con­tact, she has loads of deliv­er­ies stacked up wait­ing to go out which can’t. Head office had informed her that she was not to send the pack­age any­where until such time as a FAX was received from the long lost cus­tomer ser­vice depart­ment of Wat­ford Electronics.

Hell may well freeze first.

It was at this moment that I could have poin­ted out that she had told me her­self that it would be there Thursday without fail, so why did she do this if she KNEW she wasn’t going to send it? OR that per­haps she should have advised me this 15 days ago and I could have come down and got it sooner? Or that she doesn’t answer her phone or FAX or even open the door to any­thing less than the knock of Cthulhu?

Frankly, I couldn’t be fucked . If I had to spend another moment in the pres­ence of such evil I would be forced to do the hon­est thing and take her out the back and put two bul­lets through her lungs.

Deep breath…

I gave her The Look and she shuddered. Mov­ing very slowly I leaned slightly over the desk still look­ing her straight in the eyes, “Can I please have my par­cel now?” I asked very quietly.

“I..I will just go get it”, she says and hur­ries off her chair and out of the room.

Clint East­wood eat your heart out!

“Thank you,” I answered stand­ing back up and my wife hugged my arm.

Ten seconds later…

The door opens and my PC arrives in my pres­ence. The pure shin­ing light of its beauty ban­ishes the dim shad­ows of the room away like a new star had been born in the night sky.

Without a word I take it home and unpack it. My won­der­ful wife goes and makes me some coffee.

It works first time and it is beau­ti­ful. I relax and all the weeks’ of stress bleeds out of me and away.

I load up F.E.A.R. (the best game of the time. Ed) and auto detect the per­form­ance settings…

They ALL come back MAXIMUM!

Xmas is saved!

I can­cel the order for The Kraken and sit down to play. 17 Days late, but worth it in the end…

Basho

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