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Nina pointedly looked Morag up and down. “Are you a virgin, Morag?” Morag gave this some thought. “You know, I don’t think that question was on any of the forms,” she said. “Everything else. Not that.”
The woman smiled like someone who had learned how to do it from a YouTube video but not previously tested it out on another human being.
“You like the idea that your eyes will go on seeing after you have gone.” “No,” he said. “I stipulated an open casket funeral in my will and I want to freak the shit out of everyone.”
“Yes, it is the end of the world. Yes, we are all going to die. But we are British. These things still need doing in an orderly manner and there is certainly no excuse to get all emotional about it.”
She had been in the process of waking up for maybe an hour or two already, consciousness rising like something dark, terrible and rotten coming up from the seabed, wrapped in seaweed, barnacles and muck, up into the cruel and revealing light.
If she moved, the hangover loitering at the back of her skull would yawn, stretch and break out its claws.
“It doesn’t look that bad,” said Lois. “The fact you used the word ‘that’ and said it in a silly voice tells me it does look that bad,” said Morag.
“Shall we?” he said and stepped inside. Morag went in after him, followed by a handful of furry deputies.
“This place probably hasn’t changed in a hundred years,” said Rod. “’cept maybe the electric lights.” “And the dead body.” “Hmmm?” There was a body.
“Meaning is created in the minds of intelligent beings. The ‘it’ you are referring to is the universe including those self-same minds. It is logically impossible, like trying to fit a gallon into a pint glass.
eye. “Do you want the truth? A lot of things in this world hurt us and cause us pain. A small number of things do not. The only meaning to life involves avoiding the former and finding the latter. Death is the end of all of them, the good things and the bad ones. There is no more meaning than that.”
“I’m sure you have a better theory,” said Vivian, “but I do not pay attention to the opinions of naked people. It is a little rule I have.”
“Sex is weird,” said Morag. “The weirdest,” agreed Drew.
Morag blinked. “Are you saying we should have sex?” “Actually, if it was me I’d go play knock-a-door-run, set off fireworks in the street and do a mountain of cocaine.”
“You can’t Krav Maga a door,” said Rod. “And no.”
“You sure?” said Drew. “You’re kind of drunk.” “Only kind of?” said Morag. “Then we must pick up more booze on the way back to mine. Before we get to mine. It’s a dry village, you know.”
“This is a… very interesting hat your cat is wearing,” she said conversationally. “I knitted it for him,” the Nadirian shouted back. “From a pattern I have.” “Does he like wearing it?” Vivian asked. “He is a cat,” said the Nadirian. “He wears it because I make him wear it.”
“Come on, Rod. You can do it,” said Nina, ignoring all evidence to the contrary.
“Keep laughing,” said Richard, “or I will be forced to play the bagpipes.”
Vivian made a disapproving sound. “The road to hell is paved with bland platitudes,” she told him and shut the door.
Nina reached down with her other hand. Ingrid, still squirming, looked up with both panic and contempt. “So, you’re the good guy, now?” “Me? God, no,” said Nina. “I’m a stone cold bitch.” She wrested Ingrid’s phone from her clenched hand. “And a sex kitten.” Nina let go of the wrist. Dr Ingrid Spence dropped and managed a half second of scream before slamming noisily and violently through the plastic and steel roof of a falafel stand. “Mostly a sex kitten,” said Nina and massaged her aching shoulder.
