Circle

Dyson South Car Park Malmesbury

Dyson South Car Park Malmesbury

It had been a very difficult morning in the Car Park. The mid summer sun had been blazing down since midnight and the tarmac had been bubbling like one of those volcanic mud pools in Yellowstone National Park. Lorenzo had been testing out Dyson’s latest experimental Desert Boots fitted with toe fans and sole suction. This enabled cars to be walked over directly rather than having to transverse the three yard perimeter to reach the next parking bay.

Kitted out like a G.I. going into battle in the Gulf War, Lorenzo set off in his attire, of one yellow hiviz waistcoat, and nothing else other than his experimental D23 fan assisted suction boots, it’s lucky his security tag hung down covering anything you wouldn’t want to get sun burned on a day like this. His mission was to avoid having to do anything that required helping employees to park their cars or issue warning advice as to where they were not encouraged to park, i.e., on every walkway, foot path, corner, yellow lined edges and any manor of other idiotic places one shouldn’t abandon a vehicle. Yet still it appeared the mission of all Dyson employees, to do just that and dump their cars within the shortest distance of arriving through the gates and into the Dyson Empire. Car parks it seemed are only for the weak of mind and shunned by anyone possessing a university degree.

Lorenzo’s colleagues had been dropping off one by one over the past few weeks unable to keep up with the pace of low flying helicopters and Rolls Royce’s being thrown across the Wiltshire countryside by Mad Inventors eager to suck all the oxygen out of the English atmosphere. Duncan had already decided today would be a clockwise patrol of all three car parks. Kevin also had taken the initiative as to what the subject of conversation would be today, anything cheerful considering the fact their services to the world of ultimate car parking were to be dispensed with and terminated in just two days time, they were to be laid off like gannet eggs off a seaside cliff. Their morale to be smashed upon the rocks below, Lorenzo was quick to dive in head first with his wit and humour, it soon had Kevin whipping out his mobile phone and speed dialling the Samaritans.

Dyson Lightning Cafe Malmesbury

Dyson Lightning Cafe Malmesbury

Two hours later after fighting their way through Bug Alley, past Chopper Aitch, over Dust Bowl Overflow and across the Jungle Swamps of the perimeter fence, they had arrived back at the Lightning Cafe, famed for its Pink Chairs and Chocolate Muffins, oh and did I mention, an old Cold War RAF jet fighter interceptor hanging from its ceiling. Some customers like to make a hasty exit after sampling the Bacon Rolls. The Car Park Trio took their usual seats so as to give a panoramic view of all samples of Five-a-Day in skimpy dresses or short skirts that might pass by within oggle range. This was their wind down period after a hectic morning’s walk around the Dysonrama. Here they would put to rights the known world and then prepare for their trek back to the reality of home life, four walls and another sleepless night of counting cars.

Having done his shopping on the return journey home from Dysonville, Lorenzo had arrived at his front door and depressingly pushed the key into the lock on route to his bed. All alone once again, Lorenzo turned to close the door behind him, when he noticed to his surprise, a large white envelope sat eagerly awaiting his arrival and sat there in the mail box staring pleasantly up at him pleading to be slit open and read aloud. Lorenzo speedily cast the hundred weight of mushrooms into the fridge closely followed by 200 gallons of pure orange juice with bits. Then Lorenzo carefully opened the envelope and shockingly but to his great delight, there inside the flap, a Biro written message in the distinct hand of a female he had once known so well, and that he had been coming to terms with in his mind, as a loved one he now assumed he’d never see again.

The message in “The Circle” was written in spiral fashion, starting at the outer edge and finishing right in the middle, it conveyed its contents like a war time cipher waiting to be decoded. Lorenzo immediately set about the task and turned on all 23 of his desktop computers, scanned in the text and began to break “The Circle.” BIOS codes beeped on sequentially booting up computers sounding like Purple Raindrops in a Rainbow Factory on The Night Shift. Then before Lorenzo could utter the words, “To Scotland on a Green Bean,” the answer popped up upon the bank of screens covering the wall to the Smartietop Suite, “First you must Head East before you can Head West,” transcribed; the missing link had been found, and “The Circle” was once again Complete! He knew what it meant, and he was now no longer dashed on the rocks below, but back on top of the cliff gazing over White Horses and into the Sunset Sinking on the Horizon. Once again, Lorenzo could now spend all his tomorrows thinking of Sarah – she was back!

David Forward Dot Com

27/06/2018