The World Cup Office had reached the stage of an operation where nobody was entirely sure who had originally unpacked everything. The big box of flags sat in the middle of the floor. It had seemed much larger when empty. Now it was surrounded by a small mountain range of fabric representing thirty-two nations, six disputed folding techniques, three accidental knots and one mysterious banner that nobody recognised but which Granite insisted had definitely been important at some point.
Gadget climbed onto the box with a clipboard tucked beneath one paw. “Right,” she announced. “We are packing everything away in an orderly manner.”
Three seconds later, order ceased to exist. Gazetteer vanished beneath a landslide of South American flags. Glyph was attempting to arrange the entire collection alphabetically according to country, continent and colour simultaneously. Glimmer had become entangled in Denmark. Gossamer appeared to have wrapped herself inside Brazil for reasons known only to herself. Granite was sitting firmly on Germany.
“Flags do not escape,” said Gadget.
“That sounds like something somebody would say immediately before a flag escaped,” Granite replied.
Across the room, Gubbins had acquired a length of string and was attempting to tie bundles together. Unfortunately, she had started somewhere in the middle. The resulting structure now connected Argentina, Japan, Morocco, Scotland, a chair and part of the refreshments table. Nobody wanted to investigate too closely.
Realising that events were slipping away from her, Gadget climbed into the box itself and began directing operations from within. “Pass me Scotland.” A flag arrived.
“Pass me Brazil.” Another flag arrived.
“Pass me England.” Three arrived.
Gadget stared at them. “Why are there three England flags?”
Nobody answered. The gerbils exchanged nervous glances. At length, Gazetteer raised a paw. “I may have printed extras.”
“Why?”
“In case England won.”
“They haven’t even played their first game.”
“I like to be prepared.”
One by one, the flags finally began disappearing into the box. As the piles shrank, parts of the office slowly reappeared. Tables emerged. Chairs emerged. A notebook that had been missing since Tuesday emerged. A surprisingly large number of gerbils emerged.
Eventually only a single flag remained. Gadget picked it up. Nobody recognised it.
The gerbils gathered around for inspection.
“Does anyone know what country this is?” asked Gadget.
Thirty-two gerbils studied it carefully.
“No.”
“Did we use it?”
“No.”
“Should we keep it?”
“Absolutely.”
The unknown flag was placed carefully on top of everything else. Gadget lowered the lid. The box now looked tidy, organised and professional. The gerbils sat back to admire their work.
A muffled voice came from inside. “Could somebody let me out?” Then Gossamer’s voice added, slightly more urgently, “It’s quite dark in here.”
The gerbils looked at the box. Then at one another. Then back at the box.
The World Cup preparations, everyone agreed, were proceeding extremely well.
https://myrtlelion.substack.com/p/packing-up-the-flags