Meaningless 2

***Chapter 1 over here or under the LOVE tab (page) in case you missed it***

Friday was worse than most days, possibly because it signified the beginning of the weekend. For many, it was a time to relax with family, friends and other people one pretended to love. Some went out and enjoyed Friday evenings at the local pubs and many of his faceless, nameless colleagues prowled the town for female company. Inebriated women plagued by insecurity and poor judgement who slept with them were rudely described as "cock-needy" or "spunk thirsty". They had often invited him along, dangling the incentive of possible sexual intercourse with a relatively decent ogre caked with make-up and a short skirt but he politely declined, each and every time.

Going out was not for him, no, no, no - Saturday was the day he washed his socks, did his ironing and had baked beans on toast. He couldn't possibly wake up late on a Saturday morning. He hated the end of the work week. The weekends were simply vacuous and completely void of purpose. If one did not have to go into work, what would one do? Plagued by the idea of having to sit at home, he moved to shut down his computer and pack his briefcase - which was possibly even more banal than he was. Brown, bland and made of relatively cheap leather. With a heave he lifted his meaningless briefcase and placed his meaningless papers in it so that he may take them back to work on while waiting for his meaningless kettle to boil.

His boss emerged as he was packing sporting a menacing face, causing the fat finger-sucker to swiftly remove his digits from his mouth and place his spit-laden fingers on his keyboard. Heaven forbid anyone else would ever be cursed with that keyboard after the multiple sputum baths it had been given.

"I have a couple of mates down from over East, they need to be entertained. It's my job to make it your job, Sheppard. Haul arse, we'll start them off at the Bird Cage and see how we go from there. Ditch the briefcase, you look like an egghead," said Mr. Darcy, or "Richo" as friends called him, before swiftly turning to disappear back into his office.

Sheppard, Jonathan Sheppard - about as generic as a name could get - sat back down in his chair and attempted to wipe the look of shock off his face. He had go "out on the town" and "entertain possible clients". The sweat that beaded his forehead could only have been from despair. Richo emerged from his office once again, fashionably toting a black jacket traditionally hooked on his left index finger. He was handsome, intelligent, charismatic and had a beautiful wife who had recently given birth. He loved his wife but often lied about how many sticks of cigarettes he smoked each day. Every good man is allowed a secret, isn't he?

Jonathan swallowed and stood. He followed his boss out of the meaningless office and into the meaningless elevator down to the meaningless street towards the meaningless Bird Cage for what was sure to be an arduous night of small talk which then led to drunken bravado and insincere affection. He had been to the Bird Cage before, also on one of these "entertaining" nights. Golly, he hated Fridays. He loathed the happy, handsome men that stood around cracking dirty jokes and despised the pretty women that never looked at him. The ones that did actually look at him were clearly five beers past drunk or older women who smelled of lavender and "old lady" perfume.

Climbing the stairs that took them to the "Bird Cage", he felt a shift. A shift of what exactly he couldn't tell, but something, somewhere moved and he felt it. He was suddenly overcome with the need to drink himself silly. The Son of Man was unaware of the series of events that had already taken place, completely oblivious to the plans of the powers that be, unsuspecting of the near future, incognizant of the fact that his life was about to change and totally powerless to stop gears already in motion - tonight would be the night that Jonathan Sheppard, man of infinite meaninglessness, would meet The Girl in the Green Dress.

***tell me you're still reading***