HAGGIS: The escape from blue tit home

The room

               "Mr MacKinney?" Came a droning voice from the dingey reception desk. Haggis peered through the greyness towards the voice and sneered at her, he never liked being called by his formal name.

"I told ya'. I'm not supposed to be here." Haggis insisted.

The lady was middle aged, even though her dark sunken eyes and drooping skin seemed to add on another ten years. Haggis cringed. He may have gotten old but at least he didn't get old as young as she did.

"I've got the forms here Mr MacKinney. Your son has signed the papers – we just need to get your things into the room and – "She sighed. "We need you to sign your end of the contract."
Haggis slammed his hand down onto the counter as carefully as possible as to not flare up his arthritis and he leaned in towards her. "I told ya' I don't have a son!"

"Right." Replied the nurse, wiping Haggis's spit away from her face. "Well, Mr MacKinney, it's as I said before. You either sign the papers and see your new room or we wait for your doctor to call."

"Fine by me." Haggis made sure he spat an extra litre at the nurse's face and sat in a small, plastic, chair at the other end of the room where he proceeded to fold his arms and stare daggers at the nurse until she sternly left the room.

Haggis looked around the place, the room was a bleak palette of greys and browns. The absolute embodiment of boring, torturingly boring which was famously the complete opposite of the kind of place Haggis usually was. He picked his flat cap off of his balding head and clutched it in his hand. This chair was far too uncomfortable. He quickly scanned the rest of the room and only found similar chairs surrounding an awkwardly high coffee table – that's when he realised.

"I know what ya' doing here, lady!" He croaked. "The chairs, it's meant to make me sign your stinking form, well that's just bloody rude! If I were ten years younger, I tell ya', I'd cause a ruddy ruckus!"

An intercom fuzzed to life and the voice of the nurse scratched through its speaker. "Mr MacKinney, we will be more than happy to supply a cushion if you are uncomfortable."

"And what? The cushions filled with bricks!? I tell ya, I'm going to pop my flipping top if I'm here any longer you bloomin' cretin!"

At this, Haggis dragged himself up on his shaky old bones and attempted to lift the plastic chair, letting out wheezes and groans as he did so. The intercom buzzed back to life.

"Now, now, Mr MacKinney, that really isn't necessary... Mr MacKinney?" Haggis had managed to lift two of the chair legs off of the ground at great expense to his respiratory system. "Right, that's it, Mr MacKinney, I've called security!"

A small, strange coloured light protruded from the wall and began to spin before an alarm began to ping continuously whilst the automated words played in a loop. "Code Beige, Code Beige, Retaliating Resident."

Even as the alarm sounded Haggis continued lifting the chair, his flat cap fell to the floor with a pathetic flop as he lifted it with all his strength.

A double door at the other end of the room slammed open as a group of white suited men burst into the room and stared in awe at him.

"RAAAAAAH" Haggis wheezed as his face went bright red and he held the small, plastic chair above his head. "Who wants some!? I'll take ya' one at a ruddy time or all at once boys I know how to do the ol' one two buckle my shoe you pansies!"

The security team hesitated but then all of a sudden, the nurse rushed in. "We've got the go ahead, his son has a doctorate and declared his senility!"

"What ruddy son!" Wheezed Haggis as the security team began to drag him by the arms out of the room.

"Your son, Mr MacKinney, Dr Sonny-Jim PhD."

Haggis's already blood-shot eyes widened as he was dragged away screaming. "SONNY-JIM!"