The Land of the tiny zombies

I was trapped.
The second I passed that door, I knew I was trapped.
Behind me, the combination lock resetted itself with the most definite 'click'.

In the violently bright coloured room, under the crude neon light, I lowered my eyes and... I saw them.
There were five or six of them, it was hard to tell. Some were walking and hobbling in that fashion made famous by the undead of the cinema, some crawling, dragging their bodies on the ground with their small claw like hands. All their eyes riveted on me, their arms outstretched to grab my legs. All moving, ever so slowly, moaning and dribbling, towards me.
I realised that my son was still clinging to me and... that he was one of them, ready to rip any trace of affection out of me.
I passed him to the lady standing there and I wondered.
I wondered if they reacted in the same way when a mum entered their kingdom... because, for a dad, the crèche was a very strange universe.

Welcome Party

Malcolm Foghorn was in a foul mood. It was time for the morning walk and he had already had some bad news from the outside.

James Nesbitt – no relation – was an idiot!

In the narrow corridor of the prison, everyone stayed well out of his way, guards included.

Malcolm wasn't one to trifle with. He was a known crime lord. In fact, he was the crime lord. Even now that he was jailed for life about a little divergence of opinion with one of his associate – who ended up going for a swim, belly up, in the river Thames – he was still very influential and had a lot of friends. Everybody knew it and no one could do anything about it... not if they were fond of the idea of seeing their loved ones again. Apparently, everyone in Wandsworth was a family man and they all called him Sir.

Stomping through the gallery, grudgingly, Foghorn mentally went over the last heist he'd organised. Everything went well, to perfection, and according to the plan. Everything! Until that scum bag of Nesbitt got the entire gang nicked! That low-life of a gateway driver had to use his own car! With his personalised number plate J4MES!!

When questioned about it by laughing detectives, all he said in his defence to the coppers was : “Well, they cost me four grand...”

Imbecile!

With the welcome reception Foghorn was preparing for James, he was sure it will cost that moron much more than money.