Did you get dressed in the dark this morning?
The Good Lady halted midway between slamming a bowl of bright yellow, wobbly stuff in front of me.
I ignored her comment and chose instead to examine the pus-like nonsense in the bowl.
What in the devil fuck is that?
I asked handsomely.
Never mind that, what have you got on your legs? Are you wearing orange trousers?
I made a skirling noise with my lips to show my distaste for her fashion judgery.
Never mind my trousers, what the hell is in that bowl?
It's raw custard. It's great with oats. Really good for you.
I eyed the gloop suspiciously. Didn't custard have eggs in it, raw eggs? What the fuck was this, the eighties? Was I Rocky Balboa?
Raw custard? You mean it's got raw eggs in it? What the fuck, can't you get spina bifida or something from raw eggs?
I pushed the bowl away from me with a face that a dog chewing a used condom would be proud of.
The Good Lady pushed it back.
Relax, it's vegan custard.
I pushed the bowl back toward her.
Vegan custard? For breakfast, I don't want vegan custard!? I want food!
She sighed as if I was denying putting skidmarked underwear in the laundry basket again.
It's not really custard, it's mango, coconut milk and turmeric. It really has some great health benefits.
She said with a grimace as if she didn't really believe her own mouth twaddle.
I pulled the bowl back and lifted my spoon out of the yellow plop before letting it fall back in again. It made a horrible sucking sound. Like a coi carp sucking on a big toe.
I raised my head to look at the Good Lady and pushing the bowl back toward her, smiled.
This isn't 'custard,' it's a smoothie.
What little patience the Good Lady had snapped like old toffee.
It's bloody custard and you will bloody well eat it.
She shoved the bowl at me and stood, her nipples quivering with indignation.
I chuckled softly, reaching a hand out for my long coat and Fedora.
This Private Eye don't eat custard, missy. Not for anyone. I gotta dash, we are having a walking stand-up meeting today and I can't be late.
I headed for the door.
Behind me her voice sniped out.
You're going to work in orange trousers? Where are you working now, the circus?
I glanced down at my trousers. Silly woman, they weren't orange. They were plainly rust coloured.
I've gotta fit in baby, I'm undercover!
I shoved open the door and headed off to my walking stand-up.
Oh hey, man. Love the trousers!
Shouted Nad as I rocked up to the gathering place of the walking stand-up.
Cheers, mate. Love yours too.
I sais as casually as I could so as not to let him think I wanted to nosh on his penis.
His trousers were a dark plum corduroy and were ridiculously flared at the bottom.
Admittedly, we looked like clowns. But hey, this was a modern media organisation. Appearances had to be maintained.
Fitting in was all the more important for me and my undercover mission to find out what had happened to our guys who had gone missing at this place. I was quite determined not to be knocked off for any reason.
Nad looked around the small group that had formed around me. He checked a list and murmured about waiting for one more.
I eyed up the team around me. We looked like a gang from a bad musical theatre production. Hopefully no-one would start singing.
Sorry I'm late guys, we ready to start walking?
A voice sounded from behind me.
I stiffened, like a Cocker spaniel in a yoga class. Slowly, I turned to see who had spoken.
Hey, BoomDawg, this is Drybore.
Said Nad with his customary Cheshire cat grin.
Oh, no need for introductions. Me and the Boom machine go way back, eh dude?
Drybore reached out and slapped me on the shoulder.
I flinched, not at the manliness of the slap, nor at his Canary yellow trousers which made him look like a Pokémon hybrid.
No. I flinched because Drybore was one of ours. One of the missing I had been tasked to find.
But he was meant to be dead?
I gave him a watery smile and started walking with the rest of team for our stand-up.
Drybore was talking but it just sounded like so much pish to me as my mind raced around in circles.
Was he dead or wasn't he?
He wasn't acting very dead but I've learned over the years not to listen to logic, instinct has served me far better.
A girl in the group laughed as he flirted with her. Careful love or you will end up with a fanny full of decaying meat. I thought pensively.
He carried on with his flirting just slightly ahead of me.
I narrowed my eyes. Dead man walking or not? My inner detective growled deep in its den.
I was sure as hell going to find out...