Golden Nuts

Janice, our Human Resources manager stopped dead in her tracks. "What are you messing around with now?"

"This," I said, dangling a single sheet of A4, "is the most important document in this building."

"What is it?"

I handed it over - the latest print-out of our Fantasy Football league.

She looked at me like I was a complete cretin. I found myself sitting with a fixed smile, staring up into a stony pair of eyes, inset into the roundest, chubbiest face you'd ever see on a female exec.

The bitch - as if I'd been arsing around, she said "maybe you should get back to work, Chris." Unbelievable! Well, guess who set up the Fantasy Football league in the first place, and on company time? Golden-nuts. Yet I remember her congratulating him. Bloody Golden-nuts. Real name, Paul Burrows. The bain of my life.

It's not that I hated Paul. Much the opposite, in fact, he was a great guy. Parhaps too great. By the time Paul joined Earthsax Plc, I had been the top field sales rep for two years running. I'd basically travel the length and breadth of the country drumming up business for our top-of-the-range saxophones. Not difficult. But a pain in the backside. I felt I'd been under the lash for long enough, and wanted to get into the office, on 'projects' - the really big stuff. I wanted to get in, attend the meetings, kick back, and flick the lash onto someone else for a change. I had pushed. I pushed hard. It was no secret that I wanted in on the central pie.

So when Paul started, and they invited him to director-level meetings from the beginning, everyone knew he was being groomed. And that I'd be pissed.

"All right Paul?" I flashed a genuinely friendly smile to go with the greeting as I sat processing a quote at my PC.

"Hi Chris, how's it going?" He was a lovely guy, to be honest. Some people would ask you 'how it's going?' and then walk out of earshot before you even answered. Paul would lean over your desk and make warm eye contact, inviting an honest answer.

"Yeah, same old, same old -"

Keith, the director above my boss bundled out of his office. "Morning, Paul! I hear you're giving a presentation today? Everything good? Fine, best of luck with it -"

I cut him off. "Morning Keith!" Despite me being top salesman, I'd lay even money he didn't even know my name. Yet I'd been there four years - that's more than three years longer than Paul.

"er, morning, erm " his greeting trailed off into mumbling, and he waved to us both before heading back for his office.

Git.

That just about said it all.

Paul smiled. "See ya later, buddy." And off he went, probably to prepare that presentation. He'd been there nine months, and could absolultely do no wrong. I bet that if he went in to give his presentation, told them he hadn't bothered to do it, climbed onto the central table, ripped his trousers down, squatted and defacated before them, they'd give him a standing ovation. They'd have seen people like me in the two hours beforehand giving technically sound data in an erudite manner, after weeks of research and fine-tuning, but when it came to Paul's defacation, they'd be saying things like 'That was so refreshing!' 'Well done, Paul, I was flagging after those other long-winded presentations. Needed something to pick me up. The feacal stench, and cheeky display you just did - with perfect timing may I add - has really done the job!'

Bastards.

I started the 'Golden-nuts' nickname. Not to his face, but among the others. Everyone had recognised his favour, and the name caught on immediately.

Oh, how it burned. Golden-nuts received everything on a plate, and yet I could not see what he did differently to anyone else.

God damn Golden-nuts.

Around mid-morning, I had to leave - I was due in Birmingham within a few hours to re-negotiate a year-long contract with 'Treble&Bass' - a chain of music shops. The deal was worth half a mill, it'd cover quarter of my yearly target in one easy hit. I nipped to the loo before leaving the office.

Golden-nuts was in there. Out of curiosity, I stood next to him and as I pulled my white asp free, I leaned forward slightly, glancing sideways.

And you know what? There actually was a golden glow emanating from his Calvin Kleins.

"You've got gold nuts," I said.

Golden-nuts smiled, nodded, and got on with his piss.

"You really have…" I leaned forward more. "They're actually are made of gold!?"

He nodded, as if it were perfectly normal. But god, they were more than gold, they shone, bright. In a darkened bedroom, a naked Paul Burrows must have looked like a steam-train coming through a tunnel.

He zipped up, went to the sink and washed his hands for the perfect fifteen seconds that you're supposed to, then stuck them under the blow-drier. The noise precluded further conversation. Not that any came to mind. Shocked, I finished my own piss, flashed my hands under the tap for less then two seconds, and caught up with him in time to catch a cheery nod, and off he went.

Jesus. They say: 'many a true word spoken in jest'. I wondered if his success could be attributed directly to the golden nuts. Could the precious jewels in his pants actually be the sole reason for all the blatant grace and favor?

The following morning, I had pretty much secured the half-mill contract, so I started out in the office again to finalise the paperwork. Paul came over on his way through, but before a single word passed his lips, Keith came out again.

"That presentation went very well, Mr Burrows, well done, the company profile has risen significantly. Are you free for lunch?"

What? Not just 'Paul' now, but 'Mr Burrows'! As if the director worked for Golden-nuts and not the other way around! And how can one presentation raise the company profile? Hang on, half a mill contract at my fingertips here!

That was it. I'd had enough. I would take those golden-balls of his and consequences be damned.

I stood up. "Look, Paul mate, I'm really sorry, but -" I lunged for him. At first, he didn't know what I was up to, and he laughed and batted at me. But I grabbed him from behind, pulled his belt loose, undid his trousers, and then threw him to the floor. He flicked onto his back with wide eyes and mouth agape.

Now it might be worth mentioning, at this point, we worked in an open plan office. Fully thrity-odd people witnessed this, just by a slight turn of the head, or - for many of them - just a sidegance.

I knocked his flailing hands out of the way, grabbed those golden spheres in my right fist and yanked hard. Paul howled. He screamed so loud people winced. I yanked at them and his whole body jerked toward me with each pull, but I roared, jolting him harder, and harder. I heard some women scream, and someone wretched before vomiting. All the men charged forward.

Keith shouted at the top of his voice. "You freakin' maniac! You're fffff -"

The nuts came off in my hand! I held them aloft for all to see. "I have them! I have the golden nuts! Yessss, you sons o' bitches!" In my hand, the bright bulbous sack seemed to dissolve and a trail of gold flashed down my arm. I felt a heaviness in my scrotum followed by a light, airy relief.

Keith's 'f' went on for a while during which his expression changed from rage to acceptance. "-ffffffine work Chris." He nudged the half-conscious Paul with a foot. "I never liked that guy, he came to dinner with us once, and I didn't like the way he looked at my wife. That's good work, ripping his nuts off. I like it. Shows balls."

I couldn't believe it. "Er, no probs, anytime."

The women in the office - including the one that had thrown up - smiled at me, batting their eyelashes, even that fat heffer Janice.

When the ambulance crew came for Paul, they commended me on such a fine operation. And when the police came to investigate, they asked me if I'd be interested in their current vacancy for a Chief Superintendant.

Just before lunch, my phone rang. "Hi, Chris, you'll never guess what?" It was my dad. He'd been an ambulance-chaser for a law firm for fifteen years. "They offered me senior partner this afternoon. Senior partner! Get that!"

"Well done, dad. Hey, look, I've got to go, I've got a big job on. Speak later, yeah?"

Well, fuck me. Was that due to my new set of nuts? Or was that due to fifteen years hard work?

Keith bustled over. "Now that Paul's on sick leave, we're going to need someone to cover his work. Of course, with the question-mark over Paul's long-term commitment to the company, this could turn into something more definite." He winked and jerked his head for me to follow him.

I sauntered into his office and took a seat, unsure exactly where Paul's balls would ultimately lead.

Keith sat in his padded leather chair. "What does your father do for a living, Chris?"

"He's a…" It took a flash of memory for me to realize. "Oh, yeah, he's a Senior Partner for a city law firm."

"Really?" Keith opened his large antique globe and pulled out a crystal decanter filled with dark amber liquid. He then took out two sparkling glasses. "You're from good stock then. I don't know why we didn't recognize it before. Your face, profile, dedication. We'll have you on projects before the end of the week." He poured the brandies and I took one.

"Cheers!"