GodDAMN! That's a good fuckin' cheeseburger."....

Okay, let's recap. This mornin' I got up an' took the train to work, just like any other day of the week. Pretty boring train ride. I don' have a book or nuthin' to read, so I just sit an' watch everybody else readin' their Da Vinci Code paperbacks trying to look important with their ipods an' mobile phones.
When we pull inta Glasgow Central, I get picked up by two big goons with buzzcuts. They drag me away an' next thing I know I'm locked up in this empty room. I don' know what the fuck's going on. I'm waiting for HOURS in this damn room. Meantime, I'm really late for work an' gettin' really hungry an' I ain't even taken my morning dump yet.
Then comes a guy, one a those mysterious goverment agent types in a black suit an' tie. Except the guy's got carrying his lunch with him - carryout from the nearby Burger King.

"GodDAMN! That's a good fuckin' cheeseburger," he says. The guy's speakin' in a sorta flat accent -American or Candian, on o' the other. I can't really tell.

He takes a couple more ravenous bites to finish off the burger before crumpling up the wrapper an' chuckin' it at me.

"Think fast," he shouts.

The wrapper bounces off my forehead an' lands on the floor. I'm so hungry that I'm not even phased. All I can think about is how hungry I am, an' how much I need to shit.

"So I understand you're not a fan of Dan Brown," he says while pulling a handful a fries outta the Burger King bag.

"Huh?" What the hell has that got to do with anything, I wonder.

"I said I take it you're not a fan of Dan Brown."

I look at him an' shrug my shoulders. "He's okay, I guess. Tell ya the truth I don' think much of him one way or the other."

The man shovels a handful of fries into his mouth, chews, takes a long sip of his soft drink and glares at me.

"Is that a fact?"

"Look, can I go now?" I ask. "C'mon man, I've gotta get to work. My boss is gonna go apeshit. I've already been late three times this m -"

"Why don't you like 'Angels and Demons?" he asks, cutting me off.

"Huh? I dunno, I've never even read it," I respond. "Look, what's any of this gotta do with my rail card?"

"Okay, then what about the Da Vinci Code? Have you read that?"

"Started it, but didn't finish it; an' I thought the movie sucked. Why? What do you care what I read?"

The man took another sip from his drink and cleared his throat. "Let me explain something to you Mr. Hassebrock, we here at FirstRail have certain standards we like to maintain; and one of those standards is ensuring our passengers read only travel-industry approved literature...that includes top selling suspense and action/adventure novels by the likes of authors such as John Grisham, Micheal Crighton, and especially Dan Brown.
"Now, I've noticed in the last two months your reading fare has consisted of the following: one NHS-produced pamphlet entitled 'How To Get Rid of Crabs,' an issue of Nuts magazine from May 2005, a Batman comic and the back of a packet brown sauce."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Yeah, so..."

"Well, this is hardly the image FirstRail would like to promote. And frankly, along with your general appearance, Mr. Hassebrock....you frighten children."

The man grabbed another fistful of fries and shoved them into my mouth. He picked through the carton and waved it in front of me, offering the last remaining fries - the little burnt ones that nobody wants. I shook my head. He shrugged his shoulders and popped the stragglers into his mouth.

"Wur gnnu huv t du smtn bou tis," he told me through a mouthful of fries.

I was startin' to really worry now, wonderin' what was gonna happen to me when all of the sudden the man seized up. He brought his hands to his throat an' started making gurgling noises like he was chokin'.

"He man, you okay?" I asked. But it was pretty obvious he wasn't. He was turnin' blue.

I stood up and slapped him hard on the back a couple of times to try an' get the fries outta his throat, but it didn't work. His face was turnin' purple now.

"Hold on, I'll go get a doctor or someone," I said.

The door was unlocked so I walked out and on down the hallway. No one was around. A little further down I came across a door that was opened slightly. I knocked on' it and asked if anyone was in. I waited a few seconds and got no answer, so I pushed the door all the way open and walked into the room.

It was a little office room. Pretty standard stuff: a desk, a phone, a computer, two chairs an' a Dilbert poster. I walked around the desk to use the phone an' noticed the computer was on. There was a file on the desktop marked secret documents. I clicked on it. Some words appeared on the screen - it looked like some sort of contract. The words 'WH Smith', 'Dan Brown', 'CIA' , 'MI5', and 'slush fund to finance covert and highly illegal operations to supply Iran with nuclear weapons' caught my attention. I read a little further down. Suddenly it dawned on me.

Holy shite! This is a contract between WH Smith, the British and American governments and First Rail to finance the supplying of Iran with nuclear weapons through the proceeds from Dan Brown's books. Oh my God.

Down the hall I heard someone suddenly shout out. "Holy shit! Bob's dead!!! And where's that slob that we brought in to interrogate? He's gone! That guy must've killed Bob! He couldn't have gotten far! Get him before he escapes!!!"

Oh cripes, I thought....

TO BE CONTINUED