The Sandwich: #187

The Sandwich


The top secret government research establishment was quite easy to find. It was top secret of course, so there were no signs up or anything, but the car park next door was being run by a private firm and they had signs up everywhere because they didn't give a wet splat about secrecy. The research establishment itself was disguised as a discount stationer. You know, pencil sharpeners and notepads and things. I figured that there would be some kind of special codeword to get in. So I went in and started to buy some stationery - you know, pens and rulers and things like that. And as I was buying my stationery - envelopes and paperclips and things like that - I made general chitchat with the greasy looking young man on the till.

"It's uncommonly warm for this time of year in Gdansk," I said. The greasy man agreed with me.

"I have heard that the midnight train from St Petersburg has been delayed," I said. The greasy man said that this was a terrible shame.

"My albatross has come down with a startlingly bad case of gingivitis," I said. The greasy man gave me his sympathy.

"All right, all right, all right," I said. "What's the blinking password."

"Oh, I think you want the top secret government research establishment," said the greasy man. "It's next door."

I thanked the man and paid for my purchases. At least my time hadn't been completely wasted. I now had enough staples and Post-it notes and things like that to last me until the next decade. Jolly good.



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