Hans felt pretty sure he hadn’t slept last night.

He wasn’t absolutely positive, but he was pretty sure. There were crunchy brown leaves attached to his dress socks, which he was still wearing as he sat on the edge of the king-sized bed that morning, deciding what to do with his life.

He had a vague recollection of chasing kangaroos on the crown land quite close to his home, and another vague recollection of not being too good at it.

The last time he’d seen Bart and Solway in person they had discussed exactly what kind of creatures they resembled and Bart had given him a broad description of himself (that being Hans, not Bart) being large, stocky and hairy with a boofhead and big teeth.

Hans scrubbed at his eyes. Being large and stocky as a dog had not really transferred itself into his human form. He was tallish, yeah, good shoulders, yeah, but not exactly stocky. More lean, in his opinion.

He undid the dress shirt he was still wearing and took off the collar. Possibly a little too lean, which was likely due to the stress he’d been putting himself under lately. His mother, bless her, would have been extolling the virtues of eating well, right about now, because she’d always said, “You need a little extra weight, Hans because if you get sick at least you’ve got something to lose.”

He looked at himself in the full-length mirror on the way through to the bathroom. He didn’t have too much to lose.

He’d have to make himself a huge breakfast if he had any food in the fridge, and if he didn’t have any food in the fridge (which would be highly likely as he didn’t seem to have time to do normal things and go to the supermarket), he’d have to wait until he got to the restaurant and ask Fennel to cook him something because he wasn’t wasting any more money on ordering in.

Maybe this was why he’d been feeling out of sorts lately, he thought, staring at himself. There was hardly a skerrick of spare fat on him at all. He still had muscle, but that would be disappearing soon if he didn’t start being careful.

‘I would not survive in the wild, regardless of how big a dog I think I am, because there is nothing to effing survive on.’

He decided maybe, just maybe, he’d go to the supermarket before he went to work and buy at least two dozen eggs, a kilo of bacon, and whatever else he could find that would help put some fat back on himself.

But first, he’d be having a very warm and lovely shower and try to figure out how crunchy brown leaves got in his underwear.

Half an hour later he was on the phone.

‘Fennel, I’m not coming in today.’

‘Okay?’

‘Put Gretal in charge of the house.’

‘Okay? What about the books?’

‘Can you do the books?’

‘It’s been a while, but I’ll scrape by. It will be a bastard getting prep ready, but I’m going to need to trust these kids at some point, I spose.’

‘Have we got any reservations?’

‘Not too many, no. Most will be walk-in’s, as per usual,’ Fennel puffed.

Hans could almost see him flying (not literally) around the restaurant looking at everything as he spoke. He’d seen Fennel move quickly before, which was quite exciting to watch when someone was as “healthy” as Fennel was.

‘Take your time, old man. I don’t want you having a heart attack.’

‘Easier said than done,’ muttered Fennel. ‘You’ve kind of sprung this on me, Hans.’

‘We need more staff, we need more chefs, and we need more everything,’ grumbled Hans.

‘Not really a possibility when we don’t have the hours to put said staff on, or the turnover to… Anyway.’ There came the sound of paper rustling and Fennel sighed. ‘Okay. Let me sort this out, Hans. I need to make some calls.’

‘Can I trust you with this?’ Hans opened the fridge and grunted to himself. Empty, just as he thought.

‘Of course you can. If you couldn’t, you’d be here by now,’ Fennel said crankily. ‘What time do you have the new girl coming in?’

‘Same time as everyone else. She’s not special.’ Hans crossed his fingers, which he seemed to be having a habit of doing lately.

‘I’m starting to think you’re trying to avoid her, Hans.’

‘I don’t trust her, Fennel. That would be a good reason not to avoid her, don’t you think?’

‘Fair enough. Okay. Do what you need to do, and don’t worry. The place will still be standing when you get back.’

‘Good to know.’ He hung up.

After he’d fed himself, which he would be doing as soon as he got back from the shops, he’d start advertising for his replacement. Things could not go on the way they currently were, they were heading into what would traditionally be the quieter season, and he needed to be getting some new ideas happening to keep these restaurants open and thriving.

He just had to figure out how to do it, and for that he needed time… And food.

Before he left the house, he made himself a note and left it sitting on his laptop.

“Think about transferring staff between restaurants”, he’d written. The way he’d set things up, this should be entirely doable.

^^_____O_____^^

Hans decided to call his web-developer from the car.

‘Zed,’ he said to the bluetooth connection.

He waited for at least twenty seconds, which just didn’t seem right. The man was all data and logistics and making websites work. Why the f*ck didn’t he have a phone built into his brain?

‘No,’ said the man on the other end.

‘Is that how you always answer your phone? What the fuck took you so long,’ Hans demanded.

‘It’s morning. I don’t do morning.’ A very large yawn came through the cars speakers. ‘So, no.’

‘You’re doing morning today.’

‘No I’m not. You don’t pay me enough.’

‘What do I pay you?’

‘Not enough. That should answer your question. So, whatever it is you want me to do, because I’m sure it’s another one of your hair-brained schemes, no. That’s all. Bye.’

The line went silent.

‘What the actual fuck,’ Hans muttered to himself. ‘Zed,’ he shouted.

If anything, the man was smart. He picked up the call. ‘What.’

‘You’re awake now, right?’

‘I’m trying not to be.’

‘Where do you live?’

None of your fucking business. Why?’

‘I need to run some ideas by you.’

‘I fucking knew it. Are you buying me breakfast?’

‘It’s half past nine.’ Hans looked at the passenger seat. Okay, so everything sitting there was food for breakfast. He decided not to mention that.

‘So, are you buying me breakfast or not,’ Zed said.

Hans pulled into his driveway. ‘I can make you breakfast.’ I thought I wasn’t mentioning that, he thought.

‘I thought you couldn’t cook,’ said Zed, who seemed capable of thinking too.

‘I can when I’m not being hounded by crazed chefs and hungry sisters, which I shouldn’t be explaining to you, Zed. Do you know where I live?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I do.’

‘How far away are you?’

‘Not far enough.’ Zed sighed. ‘Give me an hour, and don’t eat anything before I get there. Also, you’re paying for fuel.’

‘I am?’

‘Yes. Like I said, you don’t pay me enough.’ He hung up.

Hans decided not to call him back again. He got out of the car, looked down at the tracksuit pants he was currently wearing, wondered when the hell he bought those, decided it was okay, and fine, and okay, unlocked the front door, went into his kitchen, and wondered where the hell he kept his frypans.

It took him thirty minutes to figure out how to crack an egg without getting shell in the pan. By that point, Hans had gone through half a dozen eggs, which was just fucking marvellous considering he’d heard there was an egg shortage.

He thought about that for a few minutes. The fact there was an actual egg shortage could really mess with his restaurants. He made a note to speak with his suppliers and see if they were having any issues. Maybe he should offer them extra…

peacekeeping mission said a voice in his head.

He dropped another egg. ‘Fuck.’

Not that I’m aware of hello fullstop how are you I see I am turning up at good times comma fullstop because today we are going to practise your tendencies to turn into a dog yay you fullstop exclamation mark

‘I really don’t need this right now. But, while we’re at it, how come you’re inside my house?

insects fullstop how about you get some fleabombs

Hans growled and realised his perspective had changed somewhat as he was now looking up at the counter rather than down at it. He wagged his tail. Maybe he didn’t need to cook after all. He licked the broken egg off the floor.

Something was in the backyard. He trotted to the glass door and stared out, nose to the pane.

‘Cat,’ he barked. ‘Cat-cat-cat.’

I really need to learn how to control this.

That’s the idea, the lizard replied.

‘Lizard. Lizaaaaaard. Lizard under a bush. Lizaaaaaaard,’ shouted Hans. Jesus Christ he thought. This is ridickleeows. Oh-noh.

Exactly said the lizard. And the longer you comma personally comma are in that form the worse your thinking will bec space pause You will lose the ability to pronounce words correctly comma to think intricate thoughts comma and to see in colour fullstop This is your destiny as a dog

Then I don’t like it, thought Hans. Turn me back.

You need to turn yourself back breath You need to learn how to control it pause I am surprised you had not thought of this earlier very well then that’s your single simple lesson for the day Now you will realise how to do this you will not have so many urges to fornicate with everything that moves comma if that is a t all possible as it seems to be in your nature anyway fullstop period Stranger at the door

Hans stalked down the hallway and sniffed deeply at the bottom of the door. He let out a low warning growl and smelled fear and it was good.

‘Took your time,’ he said opening the door to Zed.

Zed peered past him. ‘You got a dog?’

‘No? I have way too much going on in my life to own a dog. Don’t be ridicklee ou….’ Hans stopped himself. ‘Daft.’

‘You sure, man?’ Zed didn’t look very happy. ‘I really don’t like dogs, and that thing sounded big.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Hans patted the smaller man on the shoulder. ‘Come in. Let’s see if I can feed you, and we’ll talk about adding a staff portal to the website.’

‘Oh for fucksake,’ Zed groaned, seemingly forgetting all about the so-called dog. ‘Don’t burn my breakfast. I’m gonna be here for a while.’

Hans tried not to sniff his arse. Something like that would require a very long explanation he was not willing to give.

‘I’ll make you a coffee first,’ he said as Zed unslung his laptop bag and sat at the table. because that’s what you do when you invite people into your home you fucking fool, he thought to himself. Not greeting people by sniffing their fucking arses. ‘How do you have it?’

‘White, no sugar,’ said Zed.

‘On it.’

Chapter Six coming soon.