Nightmare On Main Street (part 3)
In through the door walked George “Mad” Barking, with the dog Drooper. He was followed by two other men whom Norvik didn’t recognise.
Norvik thought he’d better say something. He stretched out his hand. “Norvik. Nils Norvik.”
“How pleasant to see you, Mr Norvik!” Barking smiled in that menacing way of his. “Allow me to introduce my associates. On my left, Mr Greg Dalek.” Barking gestured towards a tall man in a sharp suit. “Mr Dalek is the Managing Director of Sky Blue Thinking. He is advising me on my strategic vision for the next 35 years. As you will see, Mr Dalek is a very clear thinker. He always takes things back to first principles. Ha ha!”
Dalek spoke. “A dog is a quadruped. In other words, it has four legs.”
The dog Drooper raised an ear, as if to acknowledge this insightful statement.
“And on my right,” continued Barking, “is Mr Mondo Penguin!” A heavily-built man in a dinner suit stepped forward.
The name describes the owner, thought Norvik. Now I know who he is. “Weren’t you in Iceland recently, about the time Dwight Snorkelgrass flew in from the Far East?”
“Your powers of observation do you credit, Mr Norvik!” said Barking. Penguin stared coldly at Norvik but said nothing.
“Mr Penguin advises me on my financial affairs,” said Barking. “He has an acute commercial brain. No doubt you have seen his latest book, ’How I Multiplied My Income and Happiness Through Acting as Agent For Both Sides in the Final of the World Dropstitch Championship.’” Norvik shook his head.
“Now, Mr Norvik. To business! The group executive board of Running Dogs considers that it will be necessary to reduce our playing staff by 20% over the next two seasons. Mr Dalek advises me that a reduction in our consultancy support is unmanageable. I am therefore looking to exchange what remains of our directly-paid playing staff for a sizeable sum of money. Mr Penguin advises me that this should have several noughts on the end. This will increase my spending power and make it more likely that we will get the results. You understand my point?”
Dalek spoke again. “Three points good, one point bad! In other words, three points good, one point bad!”
“Hound Dog Rovers doesn't need more players – I’ve used too many already,” said Norvik. “I’ve got so many players that I have to substitute them all at half time so that everyone gets a game. And besides, the amount I’m paid by FIDO to run this team doesn’t leave anything left over to invest in its future development.” (FIDO was the organisation that owned Hound Dog Rovers and was also competing to run the official league championship.)
Barking looked rather pained. “You obviously weren’t listening to me, Mr Norvik. I was hoping you might stand down as manager in favour of Mr Penguin. He could really turn round this club’s finances.” He held out an official-looking document written in small print, and a large pen with Running Dogs embossed in gold along the side.
Norvik stared at him. “Do you expect me to sign?”
Barking's face twisted into a cruel grin. “No, Mr Norvik, I expect you to resign!”
No-one ever improved their position by resigning, thought Norvik. He reached out for a glass of water – not knowing that Dalek had secretly slipped a couple of small tablets into it. Barking watched him closely as he drank. Suddenly Norvik’s vision began to blur. He felt faint and started sliding down his chair.
“I hate to see a man who cannot take his drink", said Barking. His eye fell upon the sheaf of papers on which Norvik had scribbled his ideas for the match against Running Dogs. “But how kind of you to write to me before you fell over. Ha ha! We will see you in Mastiff Towers on Saturday.” He picked up the papers and turned to go.
Norvik heard nothing. He was lying senseless on the floor.
THE END