Gregory

The first of May is a special day for Gregory because it’s his nine-hundredth birthday. Those who lived in Biblical times lived to be almost one-thousand, but this isn’t then. Gregory is an ant.

I know, I know, why should an ant have a birthday? Well, ant’s are born and it happens on a particular day and they celebrate when they’ve been genetically modified to do so. Jospeth did a bit of tinkering with Gregory’s DNA and so, there you go: he’s celebrating his nine-hundredth. Yay!

If I was you, I’d be asking how Jospeth got to be old enough to know the results of his genetic tinkering. The simple answer is that he didn’t. He just accelerated Gregory’s timeline so that he lived nine hundred years in about the same number of seconds. All this wonder in the interests of science.

I stepped on Gregory midway through his birthday party. I didn’t mean to but I am quite clumsy like that and shouldn’t really be allowed in laboratories. In fact, no dog should be allowed to be in a place like this, even if they are one of those special dogs that help blind folk to get around like I am. Hello, my name’s Alblethorpe. Yes, I know that’s a strange name.

Gregory survived being stood on. Ants are strong and you’ve got to admire a creature that can survive being stood on, especially one that’s a drunk as Gregory is. Then again, we dogs have soft pads under our feet, and as well as that I’ve heard that humans are better at falling downstairs without breaking their limbs when they’re drunk and so you’ve got to expect ants to get away with stuff too.

Listen, before you get any strange ideas in your head about whose dog I am then I’d better tell you that I’m not an owned dog. Slavery went out of fashion a long time before I came along. No, I’m actually Gregory’s friend. Not a very good friend I’ll grant you, but a friend all the same. The fact that he’s blind is nothing to do with me being a blind folk helper.

Click-clack-click-clack go my claws on the hard floor of the laboratory. Pid-pad-pid-pad-pid-pad go Gregory’s pretarsal adhesive pads as he tries to stumble away from the random click-clacking of my paws. It’s been quite a night. I’ve had a few units of alcohol too as well as a line of coke. If only Jospeth wasn’t due to go to sleep in a few minutes I could tell you more about this party, but he’s tired after a long day in the laboratory.

You’ll never hear of any of us again so I’ll say ‘bye’ from all of us now. Bye.

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