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Aardvark wanted to be noticed but he never was. He'd been passed over for promotion three times already. The boss, Mr Firgilstoffan, just walked past him without stopping to see.
So Aardvark wished. He set off for work the next day, starting at always with the ten-minute walk to the bus station, and had barely left the front door when two old men gasped, seeing him. "Look!" said one old lady. "Look! Look! What a drippy snotty nose!" Finger, confirm this. Wet snotty stuff. Shameful. Aardvark found one of yesterday's tissues in his back pocket (only a little damp) and used it vigorously. Then marched on boldly. "Give me the camera," said a man to his wife. The man had noticed Aardvark, and just had to photograph him. By the time Aardvark got to the station, he had figured out what was happening. He was being noticed. For better or worse. "Who's this guy?" said Firgilstoffan, half an hour later. "I'm Aardvark," said Aardvark. "I wasn't talking to you!" snapped Mr Firgilstoffan. "Who is he?" "He's Aardvark," said one of Mr F's two assistants. "Haroldus Prestopian Aardvark." "Oh, that one!" said Mr Firgilstoffan. "Well, why didn't you say so? He's the one I was talking about. The one we've got to downsize!" Aardvark had always vaguely imagined that getting noticed would lead to something wonderful, like becoming a major brand. But, unfortunately, becoming a major brand was not what he wished for. He wished to get noticed, and that was exactly what he got. |
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