Stay at home, watch TV, Eat cake - By Tim Stewart

Robert Lawry sat upstairs, watching TV. That was it really, there wasn't much else to do. He had a half-day out from college, and couldn't face the reports he should have been writing. So now he was watching children's programs on the BBC.
And then someone knocked his front door down.
There were shouts from downstairs, and thumping noises on the stairs.
Some part of Robert that hadn't been doped by the Telletubbies spurred him into action. When people break down your door, it's not a good sign, he understood instinctively. He had no idea who they could be, but the quickest part of his brain said, 'Don't find out.'
He rushed to the window, swung it open, and jumped out, landing feet first on the roof of the garden shed. As he fell, he saw two men dressed in SWAT gear, wielding automatic weapons, in the garden. They raised their guns at him as he stood on the roof, and instinct made him dive off before they fired.
He landed in the hedge, which was composed mainly from holly, spiky sharp twigs, and broken bottles. He scrambled out from the hedge, into his neighbour's garden, ran across the lawn, and vaulted the wall at the other end, landing in a hedge. (Which was composed mainly of holly and so forth.)

[Meanwhile, in the room Robert had been watching TV in, a SWAT member stood transfixed at the sight of a green alien thing dancing, and wearing a hat made from the flesh of cows. He left the house humming a strange little tune.]

Robert ran as fast as he could, while rubbing at the parts of him that were badly scraped. (I.e. all of them)
He had no idea where he was running to, but where he was going was not as important as where he was not.
He tried to keep undercover, but this was not easy while he was still in the village. If he could get to the woods, he would be okay, he told himself. Then he heard the helicopter. He started to run again, down the main street, as the helicopter flew low overhead.
People got out of his way as he ran, those that didn't found themselves pulled out of the way by concerned bystanders.
The helicopter passed overhead again. Behind him, he heard an engine roar down the street. He looked back, but it was just a normal civilian car, not a van full of gun crazy SWAT members.

Then he stepped on the carrot, which was lying on the pavement, having been dropped by a woman a minute earlier. (Who found when she got home she didn't have enough carrots to make her famous carrot casserole, so she had to make another trip to the shop. On the way, she decided to get petrol for her car, and bought a scratch card, on which she won fifty pounds. Not particularly relevant I know, but just goes to show. [Show what? I don't know.]) He fell flat on his back, striking his head sharply off the pavement. (Still with me?)
He lay for a moment, trying to get his eyes to focus again. Knowing that every second he lay, he was making it easier for them to catch him. And then what would become of him?
He staggered to his feet. People were keeping a respectful distance from him. 'Bastards.' He thought. He started to run again, staggering wildly at first, then regaining most of his composure. When he crossed the road at the square, he was hit by a car.
This wasn't the way you were supposed to make a getaway; Bruce Willis wouldn't make an escape like this, he thought, as he made his way towards the woods. There was no way of describing how he was moving now. A bystander might have said he flailed his way along, and they would have also have been puzzled by the way he kept muttering, 'Bruce Willis you Fucker' to himself.
Robert stopped at a street corner, trying to catch his breath as the helicopter buzzed over him again. He lurched onwards. The woods weren't too far away now, he could make it.
Then a black van swerved down the street, heading straight for him. No mistaking it this time, it was coming for him. As it roared down the street, a pick-up truck pulled out in front of it, honked horn, shook fist, and continued down the street.
Robert saw his chance, and took it. As the pick-up passed, he caught the side and swung himself into the back. He lay down behind the tailgate, panting, and trying to rub some relief into his shoulder, which he had pulled as he jumped into the trailer.
Just when he thought he his luck was turning, a bullet smashed through the tailgate, and hit the wooden floor inches from his face. On pure reaction, he stuck his head up, and saw a SWAT guy hanging out of the window of the van, which was just meters from the pickup. He fired again, hitting Robert in the same shoulder he had strained. Robert screamed, and was flung back and over the side of the truck, landing in a ditch, on his other shoulder, dislocating it.
Delirious from pain, he got up, and made another attempt to get away. As luck would have it, he was just outside the forest now, and he staggered towards the trees. He could hear the squeal of brakes behind him, doors opening, shutting, people shouting and running after him. He made it into the trees, and ran on and on, trying to find a place to hide. 'Just a few minutes to catch my breath.' He though, 'That's all I need.'
Then he found it, a place he could hide. It was a boggy piece of marsh, full of reeds and mud. He didn't hesitate, but dived right in to the boggy water. He covered his head with a handful of mud and reeds, hoping to camouflage his head.
It seemed to be working so far, he was watching a couple of men, who had looked right at him, but not seen him. They walked away. He was left alone.
The mud seemed to help the excruciating pain in his gunshot wound, but he couldn't help but wonder how many water-borne diseases he was contracting. He was about to get up and run for it again, when he heard movement in the undergrowth. A rabbit hopped past him, just a few feet away. It stopped and sniffed the air, and then there was a blood-curdling scream.
'Tuuuuuuuuuuuuubiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeee Tooooooooooaaaaaaassssst.!!'
A SWAT member jumped at it from a bush, landing heavily on it, bit its head off, and ate it with every sign of enjoyment.
And Robert made his move, rising from the mud like a phoenix, a phoenix from the shit. He threw himself onto the deranged soldier, and pummelled madly at his head with his best arm.
'Tiiiiiiinnnnnnnkkkkyyyyyyy Wiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnkkyyyyyyyyyyy!' Cried the SWAT guy, before a lucky punch knocked him insensible. Robert grabbed the stricken man's weapons, wondering what to do. He was surrounded. He could hear the voices of his hunters close by, so whatever he did, he knew he would have to do it fast.
Firstly, he checked the small automatic weapon he had stolen. 'Make sure the safety catch is off,' He told himself. 'Don't be like every stupid motherfucker in films.'
Then he tried to think of a plan. Stealing the man's clothes wouldn't work, he was semi-conscious and wriggling around, and he didn't have time anyway.
Then, suddenly, a great idea came to him. The perfect escape, a sure way to get away. He smiled, and prepared to take action.
'FREEZE PUNK!' Said a voice behind him.
He froze. 'Bugger.' He thought.
He could hear the man walk towards him. His heart beat faster and faster. He could make a run for it; he might even make it. There was a lot of cover to run for, and Robert still had one advantage, the man didn't know he had the gun. His back was still turned, and he had his arms out in front of him. Anyway, if you looked at the situation like it was a film, he was bound to escape; the hero always does, doesn't he? It was probably impossible for him not to get away, actually. Unless, he thought, unless this is just the start of the film, and I'm the poor bugger who gets wasted first, just to show how evil the bad guys are. No, I'm the good guy here, I can get away, really, I can.
With his brain safely out of the way, his body took over. He never looked behind him; he just sprinted for his life, and stuck his arm out behind him, firing the gun as much for the distraction as to hit anyone.
Behind him, the SWAT member ducked behind a tree stump, and took aim. He would have shot him, but for the apparition staggering towards him. 'Tubbie toassssst.' It hissed, and leapt for his throat. He screamed, and shot the man as he sailed through the air. The last words he uttered were, 'Say Bye Bye.'
Robert ran out the way he came in, too desperate to think about anything other than running. He came to the edge of the forest, where the vans were parked, didn't see anyone and ran on. Just as he thought he would make it to safety, the soldier by the van shot him.
It was five minutes later, and Robert sat clutching at the bullet hole in his leg, surrounded by soldiers. Their guns were all pointed at him. He didn't care anymore.
Then his captors parted to let another man through. He was dressed in an expensive suit. His hair was grey at the temples, and he smoked cigarettes with an air of menace.
'So,' He said to Robert, 'I'm not going to waste any time with you, I just want you to tell me where the sample is.'
'What?' Said Robert.
'Don't play dumb Carlos.' Said the man, leaning closer, frowning until his eyebrows knitted.
'Carlos? My name isn't Carlos.' Spluttered Robert.
Now it was the man's turn to look puzzled. 'What?'
'My name is Robert Lawry, look, it's on my drivers licence.' He produced a grubby wallet from his sodden pocket. The smoking man looked at it levelly, then put his hand over his eyes.
'I. Don't. Believe. This.' He said, each word a sentence in itself.
'Its done it again hasn't it? Hasn't it?'
He looked around him wildly, then back to Robert.
'What?' Said Robert.
'I'm so sorry about this, emm, we seem to have gotten the wrong person.'
'What? You mean all this…'
'Look, it's this windows 98 isn't it? It's just buggered up our secret information database hasn't it? I'm going to kill that frikkin technician.' The man had the decency to look embarrassed.
'Sorry.' He said.
'Emm, ok, no worries.' Said Robert, too bewildered to feel anything other than bewilderment. 'I don't suppose you'd call me an ambulance?'
'Well, it's the least we could do.'

Twenty minutes later, Robert was in an ambulance. The troops and the smoking man had left.
Before he had gone, Robert had said to the man, 'I thought people made errors, not computers.'
To which the man had replied, 'You've never had a computer, have you?'

And as he was driven to hospital, he couldn't help feel a little cheated.

the end

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