The badger looked on without concern, as it came round to the front of Ed and started sniffing at his head.
“Whatever!! Let’s go then. It’s the first time I’ve been invited into a fox lair. How far is it? It might take me more than two days to get there,” replied Ed sarcastically.
“It’s just over here. Very close.”
“Can you get this badger off my case? He’s driving me nuts.”
The fox gently manoeuvred the badger away with his snout, snarling with gentle authority. The badger sniffed back before slowly retreating up the dusty, parched incline.
“Just follow this path along and I’ll go ahead and wait for you. It won’t take you much longer than forty minutes.”
Fox trotted off looking like two ballerinas in a pantomime costume, elegant but comical. The brush, as ever, trailed behind without a say in the matter. Ed mustered strength into what he now conceded were four fat legs, looked at his reflection once again and resigned himself to having to haul his shell through the scattered clumps of grass, onto the slightly trodden path and off after the fox as the wispy brush disappeared from view.
Chapter 3
Sliding deeper
Thoughts raced by as Ed began to digest the whole situation.
I looked miserable when I was a human; God knows how miserable I look now. Why couldn’t they have erased my memory? I’m a tortoise; I don’t need to know about iPads, relativity and pornography. It makes me suffer. Anyway, how can all those thoughts and memories fit into this tiny shrimp of a tortoise brain; it just doesn’t add up? thought Ed, as he continued ambling in uncomfortable distress through the terrain.
If there’s something up with your satellite TV box or a delivery hasn’t arrived, there’s someone you can call. When you’ve been reincarnated as a tortoise with the consciousness of a human, what are you meant to do then, what helpline is there for that? Even if I could get to a phone I wouldn’t be able to pick it up. What would be the point anyway if all they could hear at the end was a tortoise in distress? Certainly not covered on my insurance plan, that’s for sure.
As he progressed onwards, he was again overwhelmed by that delicious flowery food smell. He manoeuvred over to a small clump and began munching away hungrily.
At least it saves me going to the shops. Saves money as well I’ll smell like a flower stall though when I have a crap, he thought ironically, before pulling himself from the colourful edible smorgasbord and on towards the fox lair.
Ed began to reflect on his unfortunate situation and the life he had lost. He thought of his wife Abella, a striking brunette, well out of his league but yet somehow attracted and committed to him. He reflected on how they’d met at a works party when he’d been stock controller and buyer for a small electronics firm in Petersfield. This was more than awkward, bearing in mind she was married to his boss. He remembered that evening as if it was yesterday. He recalled how he couldn’t resist her gravitational pull and spent that evening courting her whilst her husband spent time with everyone else in the room. He loathed his arrogant swagger.
***
“Get me a bottle of Corona from the bar, Bella? Oh, and don’t put that lime in the top, you know I hate that.”
She hated being called ‘Bella’ and just as much loathed being used as a waitress on call. Their teenage romance had long since been transformed into middle-aged confusion, even though she was in her late twenties. She was five years younger than her husband Jonathan, and about the same age as Ed. The misery and sadness glinted in her eyes as she turned with resignation towards the bar to fulfil her marital duty.
“I’ll give you a hand - we both need a top up anyway,” announced Ed keenly, realising her anguish. He was not set on making advances at this point, but hated seeing someone so unhappy. Just a short while later she was heading obediently over to Jonathan whilst Ed looked after her drink.
“I told you not to get one of those bloody limes in the top. For Chrissake, take it out and put it in an ash tray,” barked the large-foreheaded man in a light grey tweed sports coat and white flannel trousers. His friends in the group grinned, some with pleasure and others with wincing discomfort. Abella turned tail instinctually, embarrassed to the core and hoping for the ground to open and swallow her up. The heat flushed into her face, reddening it to a bright fireball as she discarded the lime and handed the bottle to her husband.
He neither looked at her nor acknowledged the gesture of servitude, and turned to resume the conversation with his associates, analysing the potential development of a smaller circuit board for their central heating controller.