“Because you’re so deeply in love with stamper fourteen, that’s why, Oz”
Oz hooted sourly, “Knew it there had to be something. It’s not the bloody money, I can tell you that.”
“You could always find another job, Mr Priestly,” said a third voice, “one that pays better. I would say ‘one that matches your abilities, but you already have that, don’t you?”
Oz bunched the feathers in his left wing, but felt a hand on it. “Bugger off, Jacks, leave him alone. What’s he done to you, eh?”
Jacks’ eyes twitched, “If you have to use my surname at all, use it all, Pavel. You know the influence I have.”
“Yes – and it’s influence I can easily remove at any time, Jackson.” Without his realising it, Jackson’s father had turned up behind him. A bulky man, powerful in every respect, Papa Jackson was a man to be feared, although he had a strong reputation for being even handed. As his son was being reminded.
Oz felt a tug on his wing, “Come on, Oz, let’s leave them to it,” said his workmate. With some regret, but a lot of relief, Oz followed Pavel through the factory door, half-hopping to keep up with the long-legged man.
“Cheers for that back there, Bri,” said Oz, “I was just about to lamp him one.”
“I know, you stupid sod. What did you want to go and do that for, eh? I mean, I know he’s a wanker with big ideas and no wit, but he’s still the boss’s son. You should’ve come to me first, I’m the union rep.”
Oz didn’t appear to have heard the last bit, as he called delightedly, “Yeah, and even his dad hates him! Didn’t you see the look on old Jumping Jack’s face? Friggin’ poison, mate, friggin’ poison!” Oz stopped mid-cackle, “You what? Union rep?”
Bri Pavel smiled to himself; he’d known Oz would have registered what he’d said at some point. “Yep. The results came through today.”
Oz threw his head back and hooted triumphantly. “Nice one, mate! Knew you’d get it!”
“Mmyeah. I Only just got it though. About eight votes difference is all.”
“Whatever! Let’s go and get pis.. shite. I can’t. Rent’s due this week. Last week, really.”
“Oh, Oz – you’re not still living in that place are you? It’s a dump and the people are, well, they’re weird.”
Oz ruffled his feathers at this. Sure his lodgings weren’t the best, but it was his home and he liked it. And the people, if it came to that, “Oi! What’s wrong with them?”
Too late, Bri realised he’d gone too far. He got on well with the owl, but Oz was a very brittle person and never quite ‘got’ jokes. He also tended to be very defensive. “I’m sorry, Oz, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” He stopped by his car, “did you want a lift home?” he offered, “It’s on my way.”
Oz didn’t say anything, but opened his wings and swooped off, clicking his beak angrily.
Pavel swore to himself and got into his car. He was just putting his seatbelt on when the tree fell.
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