Facilities 3

I threw open the door of the server room and raced in, scanning the ceiling for signs that the spill upstairs was leaking through.

There was nothing.

I breathed out in relief, my shoulders relaxing as if that girl in the office was wearing the perfume that smelled of flowery boobs again.

Thank fuck for small mercies eh?

I turned to Mikey.

He was frozen in place in the doorway of the server room. His face twisted in anguish as if his wife was guilting him into nibbling the Porcini Panini again.

What's up with you?

He made a frantic shushing gesture with his fingers and pointed behind me.

I whipped my head around to see what had spooked him so.

The blood froze in my veins.

Hunched down on all fours, no less than ten feet away, was a bulbous pale looking troll thing. It was poking at a plug with a screwdriver whilst making a small humming noise with lips that resembled bits of bashed up placenta.

I recoiled as it twisted to reveal ugly folds of pink skin bulging between the seams of the t-shirt and jeans it was wearing. Its arse protruded above its belt. A hairy mounded thing like two massive and filthy, wet coconuts.

I took a tentative step backwards hoping it hadn't spotted me. Mikey did too, holding the door open.

The troll-beast halted, lifting its hideous snout up as if to sniff the air.

It's vile bloodshot face snapped towards us.

How did you get in, ya prick?

Myself and Mikey halted our retreat.

Did it just call me a prick?

I whispered hoarsely over my shoulder to Mikey.

I think so.

He replied, sounding like a penguin riding a skittish horse.

Can you no see am working? Bolt, ya rocket.

The troll creature turned back to the plug like thing in its hand.

Clutching at each other we turned and fled. Tumbling through the door in a mass of writhing limbs and panicked grunts.

We kept running until we were back upstairs at the relative safety of our desks.

What the fuck was that thing?

I panted through handsome lips.

I think it was someone from Facilities?

Replied Mikey pulling on his Beats headphones as if they would protect him from punishing troll hands on his nethers.

Someone or something??...

I mused, my mind working with esoteric detective thoughts.

You don't mess with them. Aldo got punched by one at the Christmas party. All he did was smack the guy's arse for a joke.

Mikey shuddered at the recollection as if he were in prison and men were spanking his arse and telling him he had pretty ears.

I think he wanted me to build him a rocket?

I murmured. Stroking my chin at the weight of the deduction on my mind.

Mikey frowned.

He told you to bolt, you know? As in fuck off? And rocket, you know like dickhead?

I snorted at Mikey's fevered imaginings. If only it were that simple. No. I had the right of it. He had wanted me to build a rocket.

But why?

This was going to take some top grade detectivity...