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Uzzy Uts!
Uzzy Uts!

Uzzy Uts!

JPYoungJPYoung
1 Review

'Uzzy Uts!'... 'Uzzy Uts!'

The voice came from a filthy foul-smelling man shouting at the top of his voice.

Roger Charles reflected that commuter trains always found a way to introduce new and unusual methods of annoyance to their passengers. If it wasn't the all too frequent delays caused by the increased amount of trains finding themselves waiting for the trains ahead of them that were stalled at stations awaiting the movement of the trains ahead of them, it was the usual unusual eccentric collection of the unemployed homeless and mendicants who rode the trains merely for something to do. They were famous for taking up space in designated quiet carriages playing loud music on their portable radios or music players, having loud and pointless conversations with themselves, or in this case, iterating gibberish. Even if they were no longer quiet, the designated quiet carriages were preferable to the regular carriages where people loudly spoke into their mobile telephones to impress the rest of the passengers with their own importance. At times everyone would get a laugh when in the midst of discussing important international business and financial matters, their telephone would ring...

This was a new one. What the hell was an 'Uzzy Uts'? What made the phrase worth perpetually repeating?

Roger felt that he was one of the unfortunate ones of the diminishing new middle class. On one side were the lifelong pensioners who had government supported children, did not have to go to work, go to sleep early, rise early, dress in a manner they were unaccustomed to, ride a crowded slow train or bus, and as they said in the army, 'take crap all day long'. On the other side were those with the six-figure salaries who drove to a workplace with parking spots who either loved the work they were doing, or loved the family life their salary could buy, or in some cases, both. More salt in the wound was that he felt that his labours were subsidising the lifestyles of those who wouldn't work whilst the six figure salary class had aggressive tax minimisation schemes that precluded their paying tax.

He arrived at his workplace later than he preferred, but not too late that he would attract the attention of his supervisors. He parroted the traditional salutations to his fellow employees, performed his mundane duties and anxiously awaited his designated teabreak/defacto exercise period where he could walk in the sunshine away from what was increasingly feeling like a minimum-security prison combined with an asylum for the pedantic.

The time went by as it always did when he was busy at work. During his tea break he left the office to purchase a cup of coffee.

'Uzzy Uts!'

The loud voice on the crowded pavement was the second time that he heard the phrase, but Roger saw that it was spoken by the same loud derelict on his morning train.

He spoke to the man standing next to him in the queue for coffee.

'Did you hear that?'

The man he spoke to was wearing earphones and had a glazed expression on his face. Roger decided he couldn't hear anything and most probably purchased the earphones for that reason.

Why was he saying 'Uzzy Uts!' again? Did the supposedly unemployed have their own Bundy time clock that they had to punch in and meet key performance indicators of shouting nonsense in public places? Were they paid bonuses for providing extra annoyances above and beyond the call of duty? He definitely was a disciple of the 'I annoy, therefore I am' school.

Upon his return to work, he regaled his work partner, de facto psychiatrist and best friend Kate with the saga of 'Uzzy Uts!' over his coffee and her cup of tea. Kate admitted that she had also never heard the phrase but explained her theory that the speaker had heard the phrase somewhere on television, perhaps from a cartoon.

* * *

That afternoon was a change of pace for Roger and his fellow employees. Instead of working at the office and being indoctrinated with motivation and threats, they would attend a seminar at a luxury hotel in the Central Business District. They would sit in rooms of the hotel and be lectured by consultants employed by their employers. The feeling amongst the employees that it was the 'same slop, different bucket', though most of the employees used a different four-letter word beginning with the letter 's'...The 'treat' for attending the hotel briefing was the traditional free tea and biscuits and above all, the free lunch. The happiness of being away from the office building for half a day was diminished by the backlog of work that would have to be performed on the day after.

He entered the international class luxury hotel and made his way to the table checking the employee's attendance and issuing lanyards with combination nametags, passes, afternoon tea and lunch vouchers and the logo of his employer. His attention was drawn to the sound of a man loudly hectoring an increasing number of hotel staff behind the main reception desk. With a mixture of curiosity and not desiring to wait in a queue with his fellow employees, he made his way to the reception desk.

'It has been ordained that I am to address the heads of state of the Planet Earth TODAY!'

The shabbily dressed man with the smell of sleeping outside and using his trousers as a urinal pointed at the date sign behind the reception desk. Roger noticed it was Mr. Uzzy Uts himself.

'I have been informed by three Messengers from the Higher Plane that I-', he pointed at himself by jabbing his thumb into his chest, 'am the Chosen One to begin the new phase of our planet's history!'

A larger than usual amount of hotel staff and uniformed security guards escorted Mr. Uzzy Uts by carrying him away. The guest of honour was enraged,

'How dare you treat your messiah this way???'

With his one free hand he began slapping the bald head of a grimacing bespectacled concierge as he attempted to lead a chant.

'Hands off the chosen one! Hands off the chosen one! Hands...'

A little child began clapping his hands in time with the smacked head until his mother grabbed him, pointed at him with her finger and gave him a threatening look. The party disappeared behind closed doors. For some reason Roger thought of the old line in Westerns shouted after a fracas in a saloon, 'Drinks on the house!' Sadly, there would be no free drinks.

As he signed into his seminar, he recalled reading in the newspaper that morning that there actually was to be some sort of international economic conference in the city sometime that week, but the exact date, location and of course, their agenda was not mentioned.

* * *

Following a toilet break during the seminar, he lost his way. As there was no one else in the corridor and all the corridors of the hotel looked alike, he thought it a logical mistake. He found himself facing one of the city's policemen and a very fit gentleman in a dark suit with an earphone in his ear. The policeman remained silent as the dark suited gentleman interrogated him with what Roger perceived was a complete lack of civility.

'Where do you think you're going?'

'I believe I made the wrong turn; my workplace is having a seminar here.'

He held the pass on his lanyard to show the pair of them his credentials.

'Then why don't you go back to it?'

He wanted to reply with an anatomically impossible suggestion to the man in the black suit. He noticed reinforcements were coming with three more men and one woman wearing black suits and earpieces. The lead one seemed to have an air of genuine authority rather than genuine rudeness.

Not only did the man speaking to him have no interest in being civil, he seemed to be attempting to impress the policeman and the four newcomers.

'Well, what do you have to say for yourself?'

The policeman was smiling at seeing Roger being belittled. The others in black suits had an impassive air.

Roger found himself defiantly blurting out,

'What do I have to say for myself? Uzzy Uts!!!'

The men in black suits stood to attention.

'I'm sorry, sir, I had no idea...'

'I'll speak to you later Wilson', the leader admonished.

The policeman smiled even more at Wilson's discomfort.

'We've been expecting you,sir. Come with me. Barrington, relieve Wilson. Wilson, stand down and wait for me in my office where we'll discuss the sudden end of your career and your future, or lack thereof...'

The policeman loudly laughed.

The black suited men and woman escorted Roger into a room with a table. He was stunned to see the Prime Minister of his nation and some of his confederates that he recognised from television as well as several other leaders of nations he could identify from newspapers and broadcasts like a gathering of Super Friends. They stood up to greet him. All of them appeared to be holding long transparent plastic tubes with needles on one end of them.

'He has arrived', proclaimed the head of security.

Roger's own Prime Minister spoke to him.

'We have been expecting you, sir. Please come this way, we need you to begin our meeting.'

Roger smiled and nodded to the esteemed company who returned his smile and nod. It was apparent to him that everyone expected him to address them.

His mind went blank. He said the first thing that came into his mind.

'Uh...Uzzy Uts???'

The Heads of the States of the World bowed.

The leader of the security staff smashed the back of Roger's head with a hard rubber cosh sending Roger to the floor. The other security staff placed him face up on the table as the Heads of State stuck their needles into Roger's arteries and began sucking his blood...

FIN

Author Notes: I am the author of three Extra Dimensional/Ultraterrestial military science fiction novels MERCENARY EXOTIQUE, OPERATION CHUPACABRA and WORK IN OTHER WORLDS FROM YOUR OWN HOME! as well as two travel books THE MAN FROM WAUKEGAN and TWO AUSTRALIANS IN SCOTLAND (all from Lulu.com). I live happily ever after with my wife in paradise (coastal Kiama, NSW Australia).

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About The Author
JPYoung
JPYoung
About This Story
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All
Posted
6 Mar, 2021
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1,690
Read Time
8 mins
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