Following years of one-on-one cemetery tours, Speckle brings you a new Halloween fiction, ripe for the times.
Itinerant cleaner, Fingee, ferrets along to your front door, regaled in hex-ish hygiene garms and surprisingly at your service.
“Hello, can I help?” you intone, chinning the door defensively.
Fingee: “I’ve been hired to do the 3 to 4 pm slot, I’m a little early sorry.”
You: “Oh. Errrm, what are you here to do?”
Fingee: “I’m the cleaner.”
Fingee lays an assortment of kit on the ground and draws breath. Looking at a phone, Fingee reads out your name and then glares.
Fingee: “Thurston Billidge, can I come in?” (despairingly)
This all comes as a surprise to you. You shuffle, your mind parps, you smart.
You: “Yes that’s me, but I haven’t ordered a cleaner”.
Fingee: “Ok well someone has. Do you need one?”
You: (Feeling your defences being dispensed with) “I don’t think… that… I ordered one.”
Fingee: “Ok, well let me take a look anyway. I’m sure there’ll be something in there..”
It turned out to be much more than “a look”.
Therapy for the impregnable friend: A subtle psychosocial grenade for someone you care about.
The specifics of the interaction are improvised and involve Fingee making increasingly persuasive points to gain entry, sharing personal insights about the target as provided by the friend who has commissioned the scene.
Order The Cleaner, for someone unsuspecting but susceptible, this Halloween.
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