Chascot the Seeker


  Alexander Wightman


All characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.



Chap 1


"Are you quite sure you are feeling all right Charles?" enquired Lady Jane with an even more worried than normal expression on her beautiful aristocratic face.

            She always wears a worried expression when I am around and I can't imagine why. All I had been doing was sitting absolutely rigid and silent with a look of extreme concentration furrowing my brow like a baby about to fill its nappy. This had been going on for the best part of an hour. Ever since we took off from Jamaica for London in the first class cabin of the great airliner. It looked as if she was going to crack in spite of being a real lady and normally immune to the weaknesses of common people. No baked bean had ever passed her delicate and refined lips and since childhood she had never uttered a word at the breakfast table or ever complained or ever explained.     

            The fact is I had been given an awful lot to think about since that last day of my so-called holiday in Jamaica. It had come as a terrible shock when I finally realised the truth.

            Babies come on a conveyor belt and God counts them off by the million. Each millionth baby that comes along God taps on the shoulder just to help him keep tab. Of course having been touched by the hand of God that baby is blessed with a special gift. As soon as this new character finds out about the gift he or she or it rushes off to the nearest television camera.

            'Look at me,' the snotty little prodigy sneers. 'I am a genius and a damned sight better than you common lot. Now who wants me to advertise their football boots?'

            This works for just about everything from musicians to writers to footballers. BUT! Every now and then God gets distracted by the tea lady or a low flying jet. He turns around and accidentally touches the next millionth baby with his left hand. Guess who just happened to be whizzing past when that happened? That's right--yours truly.

            That is the one time the special gift is something about which you keep your mouth very tightly shut if you know what is good for you. The first few told the world about it but after they had been tied to stakes and burnt alive the rest very quickly got the message. Well the world wouldn't find out about me or my name isn't Chascot.



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