The Bill

The birds began to sing and chirp as the sun rose and the skies, dotted with white, puffy clouds, turned bright blue. The night had been very warm and the temperature had made it unbearable for fifty year old Thomas Harris. He slowly got out of bed with only his pyjama bottom on, and walked over to the window and drew back the curtains to let the sun shine into his bedroom, lighting it up. At that moment, the sound of letters being pushed through the letter box was heard. Instead of going down stairs for some breakfast, the fifty year old, went into the study and switched on his computer to continue writing a script that he had been working on. As he started to read what he had written, he came across a point that he was not so sure about.

“Now did Chamberlain hold that paper in his left hand, or, the right?” he asked himself.

Feeling unsure, he clicked on to switch on the internet only to see that it was unavailable.          

“I don’t believe it,” said Thomas Harris angrily, as he checked and noticed that all connections were working – all except one from the modem to the outside cable, “Just when I needed it. Useless people and company.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Dorothy, his wife, as she, came in and pushed forward a cup of tea and some mail, “I think we have been overcharged this month by Drama Media.”

Sipping some tea that had just been pushed forward to him, he picked up the statement from the Media Company and the internet provider. Seeing the total charged, his face gave an expression of horror and shock, as he picked up the phone.

“This is Vanessa, can I have your account number please?” said a female voice, on the other end.

The details were given.

“I am afraid there’s no such account,” replied the female.

The account details were repeated but the reply was the same. Thomas Harris looked at the statement.

“I have a statement from you company, which has my name and address printed on it as well as my account details. Now! Surely, whoever has put in the details on the statement and posted it to me, aren’t daft as you. Or are they? All I am trying to do is look up some historical information on which hand did Neville Chamberlain hold the paper.”

“Oh such a sexy man,” said the female, as she began to dream and as her thoughts began to float away to a planet billions of miles in space, “He is such a sexy hunk and simply love him when he scores goals for Manchester United. Mind you, you have a very sexy voice. I wouldn’t mind trying you.”

A look of horror appeared on the fifty year olds face, as he covered the mouth piece with his hand.

“This woman is a sex pot,” he told his wife, “she thinks I have a sexy voice and that Neville Chamberlain plays for Manchester United.”

“Don’t know what she sees in a man like you – bolding, snoring and god knows what else,” replied Dorothy, as she began to leave the room, “She needs to see a brain surgeon to have her brain examined.”

“Look here you sex pot,” said Thomas Harris, as he uncovered the mouth piece and thought of what he had just called the woman, “I mean lady. Can you put me through to your IT department?”

“Your address, please so that I can just confirm?” asked the female.

Thomas Harris read out his address and seconds later the call was transferred.

“If you ever call my house again and speak filth, that you have been doing for the last few weeks, then I will personally come over and ram this phone and all the filthy words that you have said to my wife, down your old throat and make sure that you die,” shouted an angry male, “Now get off the phone and don’t ring my wife again, you dirty old man.”

Before Thomas Harris could say anything, the phone was slammed on him, as a look of horror appeared on his face.