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A House in Heaven

Being the first part of The Heaven Chronicles.

Matt Simon

Published by Matt Simon at Smashwords

Copyright 2010 Matt Simon





Although I had never thrown myself into academia with headlong abandon, I still hadn't expected to be spending my graduation night scooping beef olives onto apathetic pensioners' plates. Family lunacy, crippling laziness and burgeoning alcoholism had seen my part time job at Heaven Bingo - "Where the Bingods smile on you!" - morph from a part time accompaniment to my sporadic studies into a full time replacement for them. I was supposed to be swaggering up to receive my scroll from a you-still-definitely-would Diana Rigg that night, not doling out lumpen gristle to a you-would-but-only-if-certain-death-were-the-alternative granny who looked like Michael Caine.

Beef olives: inhabitants - along with white pudding, clapshot and Hawick balls - of that oxymoronic culinary no man's land known as Scottish Cuisine. Done correctly, they can be almost edible, but Heaven's olives were dished up shorn of any such fancy frippery as breadcrumbs, bacon or onions. They were essentially cow shavings in Bisto.  

"How's your night going?" I asked Michael Caine Granny as I splatted beef on ceramic.

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