The package is in place.
The message glowed on my screen. The sender, Zachariah, was a user I had never heard of before.
I inhaled some good Scottish air into my lungs via my majestic nostrils. I thought I could smell shite. Hopefully, it was one of the cats and not my own arse letting out a wetty in a direct betrayal of the unwritten compact we had with one another.
The package?
What package was this? I wasn't expecting a delivery. Was this a work thing? The message had popped up on my work laptop. Maybe it was work but what did they mean, the package?
Sighing, I leaned back in my chair.
What if it wasn't something to do with work?
Had my past caught up with me? Should I reply with my standard Red Vagina call sign?
That was a risky endeavour. I could get in trouble with HR if the message wasn't someone covertly alerting me to the shenanigans of the New World Order.
Is everything ready?
A new message from Zachariah pulsed under the old one.
I hovered my mouse over the Zachariah icon. This normally pulled up a popup window with the person's details. Sure enough, the popup appeared but there was no information on it.
All the fields were empty?
I stroked my chin. Think man, think. I urged myself. Who could this be with their cryptic messages and empty profile? There must be a clue, something I was missing?
Oh, hang on. Zachariah, wasn't that a biblical figure? Was he the father of John the Rapist? Wait, was John a rapist? Or a baptist? It was so hard to remember.
Not for the first time I cursed my failings with the writings of the lord.
???
I harrumphed in outrage at the question marks Zachariah had chosen to send as his next message.
The cheeky ballsmear? I didn't care if he was my boss or if he was in fact some ultra-deep-cover black-ops type of agent. You don't send impatient question marks. Not unless you want a damn good beating.
I flexed my fingers and leaned forward, ready to type out a response that would literally make a man's foreskin tear itself off him and flee in holy terror like a plastic bag in the wind.
But before even one of my mighty fingers could touch a key, an incoming call flashed up on my screen.
Fuck!
It was El-Jefe. what did he want? Did he know about Zachariah? Was he part of the plot? Had they figured out how we could store the stolen plutonium and get it across the border?? Was he even now tapping his foot impatiently, wondering why I hadn't responded with Red Vagina..?
I clicked answer.
El Jefe and a dozen other faces appeared on my screen.
Did you get the message about the package?!?!
Barked El Jefe belligerently. He looked cross.
The package?
I replied, attempting to buy time to figure out what the humping fuck was going on.
Yes, the DB release R.25.03.1.1. It's ready. Didn't Zachariah message you? Well?!
He barked at me like I was a piece of gammon tied to a pole.
Ah, fuck. The big emergency fix we were waiting for because of the bad thing that had happened on the Live system.
And here was me gaping with an open mouth because I had been daydreaming of chicks, sunny beaches, cold beers and no COVIDS.
Well?!
Barked the boss man even more loudly.
Red Vagina?
I mumbled hopefully in a low voice.
What's that?
El Jefe frowned deeply.
A few faces on the call perked up and looked at me with that excited face that people get when they see someone else being forced to eat Quorn.
I said "Right me china." As in, the team is ready and waiting.
El Jefe made a rumbling noise like an underground train passing underfoot.
Ok then, get it sorted.
He twisted his head up like an Elephant in a hair shampoo commercial and cut the call.
I stared at the people left. One of them, a floppy-haired, red-cheeked young twit grinned at the screen.
Hi. I'm Zak. The new DBA resource. So... Um, the package, it's in place?
He said it nervously as if he were a time-travelling girl from the 1950s who wanted to lick my ice-cream cone.
I pursed my lips. And studied him closely.
Aye, don't worry. It's all in hand.
I cut the call and shook my head.
No Red Vagina today.
Maybe tomorrow.