Page 17 - Exile-ebook

16 AN EXILE OF THE MIND CASTING OFF WITH A BANG 17

poke a hole in a yacht’s side. Not to an inch to my chest I replied, “All Leaving the boat show I walked “What will it take for you to stay?”
mention amorous whales mistaking right, I’ll have one like that then.” on cloud nine with misty thoughts Executive One inquired halfway
the yacht for a potential mate. With And pointed a defiant finger at the of life on the ocean wave. To through dessert.
my enthusiasm duly sapped I had clipper. descend with a thud when reality This conversation was quite
planned to hug the coastlines and Shrewd eyes studied me through dawned. This splurge would cost the unexpected. Believing this little
keep them in sight. To later realise, shutters heavy lidded. Short of equivalent of a house in the city. The get together was a farewell lunch,
with a closer look at the charts, that asking to peek at my bank balance, good news was New Zealand would or a thank you for my brilliant
I would only get as far the Pratas he casually told me there wouldn’t waive duty should I have the good performance in the Art Department
Islands before land disappeared. be a cent in duty to be paid if I would fortune to reach her shores. of the Reader’s Digest in Montréal.
“What do you do for a living?” care to nip over to Hong Kong and *** “How much do you want?”
asked the salesman. His hair, slicked collect the yacht from the shipyard. “Why do you want to resign?” top Executive Two added.
over a bald, spot rose to flap in the “So, how long have you been management had asked several Surely they would be elated to
breeze as if in salute to a possible sale. sailing?” he asked smugly. months earlier, as I was wined and see my backside nimbly retreating
Proudly, I told him I was an art My sailing experience came dined at a fancy restaurant. After out the door. Especially after that
director for a book publisher. from books I had read and weekend surviving three Siberian winters in business with the Corpulent Editor
“I didn’t think you arty people excursions on my boss’s 20 footer Montréal, it made sense to return to collapsing at his desk with heart
had a pot to piss in,” he scoffed. on Lac Saint-Louis made little warmer climes. And three years was failure. A colleague and I visited the
Sucking in a deep breath to add impression. my limit for job longevity anyway. editor in hospital to cheer him up.

Jumbo’s Floating Restaurant in Hong Kong. Marcel about to take over. This junk easily outpaced us.