Flatmates

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“Figgins?”

“Yes?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why ‘Figgins’?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Why are you called Figgins?”

“That’s my name.”

“Oh, for God’s…I know it’s your name.  It’s an unusual name.  Some might say a silly name.  Do you know what inspired your parents to afflict you with it?”

“I don’t feel afflicted.  I’ve always found it rather regal.”

“Regal?  Figgins??   I hate to break this to you, Chap, but it’s hardly a name fit for a king.  Perhaps a court jester, but no one’s ever ascended to the throne with a name like Figgins.  It’s absurd.  People can’t respect a man who walks around answering to a name like that.  Only thing I can think of would make it more ridiculous than it already is would be if your last name was Higgins.  What’s up, Mate?  Why is your brow furrowing?  Don’t tell me – really?  Are you serious?  Figgins Higgins??  Oh, sweet Jesus, that is hilarious!”

“You know perfectly well what my name is.  I’ve been forced to spend all of my down time with you for over a month now.  Frankly, I used to enjoy this place before you became a part of it.  You talk at me all day, even when all I’m trying to do is have a good read and a biscuit, and you address me as Figgins when you’re mocking me and Mr. Higgins when you’re trying to upbraid me about some alleged lapse in judgment.  Well, I’m sorry to say that now you are the one lacking in judgment, aren’t you?  Feigning surprise that my name is what it is when you’ve known exactly what it is this whole time.  Yes, poor judgment indeed.  Rather bonkers, really.”

“Oh, calm down and have a biscuit.  And get me one, too, while you’re at it.  Top shelf of the cupboard.”

“Perhaps I don’t feel you’ve earned a biscuit, what with all this jocularity at my expense.”

“Oh, okay, then, Figgins.  I’ll be sure to tell your sister that you refused to feed the bird she bought you out of the goodness of her heart to keep you company and that now it is dying of malnutrition because you were too stingy to let go of one of your precious biscuits.  She knows you’re a dullard, Figgins, that’s precisely why she got you a bird instead of a proper flat mate.  But she’s got a big heart…for dullards and for birds, though it seems she really didn’t think through what life was going to be like for me having to occupy my mind in the perpetual presence of the intellectual equivalent of a dollop of oatmeal.”

“Garibaldi, then?”

“Oh, for the love of God, McVitie’s, you Tosser!”

“Yes, that’s right.  I’ll go fetch them.”

“Damn right, you will.  Figgins Higgins – ha!  What a plonker.”

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