When Dodgy Ron finished tunnelling Ralph’s laboratory and charging him according to the Tunneler’s Payment Scale before adding the mandatory exponential factor of two, the serious work began.
Ralph moved his tabletop experiment subterranean and thankfully for his sanity, the garlic bread remained in a magical ball of matter upstairs.
Except for the four large metal beams that had been delivered that very morning, courtesy of the now life-challenged Jim the Blacksmith, the collider was wood.
Ralph had no idea the beams were blood iron and had he known a man died in the making of the structure, he would have been concerned, especially considering the person who had commissioned the killing.
Ralph didn’t hear the knock at the door nor did he hear the man sneaking up behind him.
“So it’s true,” the man said.
“Who? Who are you,” Ralph said.
“The name’s John, I’m a reporter with The Times. So this rumour of a collider is true? Hope you know what you’re doing.
“So do I.
“What’s with all the garlic bread upstairs?