Descent into Oblivion

Kenneth Kimber stepped through the doorway of the courthouse and into the summertime street. He paused to orient himself; busy public places always made him feel uneasy, and when he felt uneasy he struggled to keep track of simple things like geography. He made a visor of his hand and took in the scene before him, methodically noting the various landmarks: the statue of town luminary Mr Henry Schultz, the ornamental fountain, the McDonald’s across the way. Only once all these and more had been processed did he begin to put the picture together, like a man memorising every piece of a jigsaw before attempting to assemble it. He turned right and made his way down the street.

“Kenny!” He stopped abruptly and turned back. Mr Grendel, sweating heavily in a dark suit and tie, was waving at him. “You forgot to sign this!” He brandished a sheet of paper and flapped it about, as though it were a handkerchief, and he a young woman seeing off her beau at the train station. Kenneth ambled back.

“Sorry, I do always forget something, don’t I?”

Mr Grendel nodded in agreement; “It certainly seems so!” he said, handing over the offending document with a flourish.

Just as Kenneth was about to sign, he remembered a story that his grandmother had told him, many years before.

Two wolves are having dinner in the Stockport branch of Pizza Hut. One of them is diabetic, and the other is colour blind. So, the diabetic one, who has to eat pizzas without tomatoes, says “This reminds me of a story my grandmother once told me.” The other one isn’t really listening, because he’s thinking about being colour blind, but the story comes out, all the same.

A man is walking out of a civic building, when someone comes out after him, waving a sheet of paper. “You didn’t sign this,” he says. The first man goes back, but just as he’s about to sign, he remembers a story that his grandmother once told him.

A wolf tells another wolf a story.

A man.