Three hours later Bob, the retired public servant, was left quiet in a parking lot with some mysterious types who seemed to avoid him treating him with absolute silence.
He couldn’t see much of his new neighbourhood thanks to the dark Swedish winter nights that never really help but there was a light in a group of houses behind him, where he had seen his new bosses going earlier and there was a big dark yellow wooden house in his front and on the right. There were also a few crows flying around. Clever birds, he had heard.
OK fine, he was no public servant anymore but he was obviously a …private contractor. He thought a bit about it and he almost liked it. There are opportunities in the private sector. He should see it as a promotion, he thought. He left the civil services for a better future as a privateer. Better living conditions, better payment, appreciation…
Damn, started raining. “Blimey,” Bob murmured. All his life in enclosed spaces for the night, Bob had forgotten how it is being outside with rain.
“Oh, my,” somebody said next to him. “We have a prince here, afraid of the rain.”
“Pardon?” Bob said surprised. “I bet mommy got you a nice little room, baby.” The voice on his right said again. A local bully. Bob new the type. Greasy mullet, sandals with long sports socks, lots of rust and pumps here and there. Bob sighed.
“What’s the matter snowflake, did the cat bite your tongue.”
“Oh shut up idiot.” A base hard voice came from the other side. “Don’t take him seriously, he is Joe the Seventy Volvo and the number ’70’ stands for his …IQ.”
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Växjö Bob 