Nick adjusted his high-vis jacket, staring solemnly through the chain-link fence at the expanse of cracked concrete.

“I’m just saying, Colin, the sign’s a highly effective psychological deterrent.”

Colin didn’t look up. He was currently attempting to fish a flaming raisin out of a mess tin filled with brandy. He called the game flap-dragon. Nick called it a gross violation of workplace protocol.

“Deterring who, exactly?” Colin asked, successfully snapping his jaws shut over the blue flame. He chewed thoughtfully, looking unimpressed by his own party trick. “The local badger population? Errant tumbleweeds?”

“It says Guard Dog on Duty,” Nick pointed out, tapping the blue metal with his clipboard.

“We don’t have a dog, Nick. We have a rusty fence, three empty ventilation shafts, and a worrying amount of dormant asbestos.”

“It’s the implication of a dog. The menacing aura of a potential mauling.”

Colin sighed, striking a match to light another raisin. “If anyone goes to the trouble of breaching the perimeter of a decommissioned missile silo to steal absolutely nothing, I’m sure an imaginary dog is not going to stop them. But fine. Good boy, sign. Have a treat.”

He flicked a charred raisin at the blue metal. It bounced off the ‘O’ in DOG with a hollow, pathetic sound.

“See?” Colin muttered, extinguishing a small fire on his sleeve. “Useless. An absolute flap-dragon of a hound. Doesn’t even fetch.”

The End

Text © Lefki Karantoni