You fumble for your mobile. “Boss. I’ll there in about 10 minutes. Sorry. You’ll never guess what I’ve just seen”
Working last night up to 1 am was too much. Shouldn’t have to take the accounts home – not after a 10 hour delivery day.
You hear a grumble, see a spray of earth flume upwards as the paving-stones lift corner by corner. With a creak and snap of cables, the telephone booth upped on points and pirouetted on one corner.
The astonishment is still fresh.
What next? Magma, flames, demons?
First the head emerges, one eye fixing you, whiskers aquiver, then with a birthing slither the body emerges shaking off the glutinous London clay..
Heard of giant rats, never giant moles.
You blink. It’s gone. No loitering. A back-flip and it had returned to it’s subterranean lair, the rubber feet skilfully paddling the earth over. No trace. No witnesses. No proof . Nothing but the drunken phone kiosk, it’s half-hinged door waving open.
The guvnor’s anger pulses. “Bloody excuses! What were you on last night? Get your arse here pronto”
