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Jus**t a quick warning, there is a tiny bit of swearing in this, and it is quite bad. You have been warned, so don't complain. Awful, some might say.
Darkness all around, smoke filling the room; today was meant to be a special day, a great day even. Looks like I’ll have to get the knife out. You see, today is that little pocket in the week when I get to go a little bit wild, splash out big time and have a perfect morning. Today is teacake day. No plain bread on Thursdays, oh no, co-op brand buns of happiness, full of little raisins of happiness, and those little orange bits are fairly happy too, although not ecs**tatic as no one knows what they are. But no, today my dreams are quashed. They sit in front of me, not golden-brown and mouth watering like they should be, ins**tead a crispy black coats them. I doubt even the old sink and knife treatment will work, but what’s the wors**t that could happen?
It seems the middles are saved with little effort, the only sacrifice being the sooty black flakes covering my hands, but now comes the ‘big ones’, the crus**ty outer shell. It’s a mess, and the knife seems to have no effect on it at all. Now I have two choices, get out the bread knife and simply cut the crispy black layer clean off, or pile butter on it to hide the tas**te at the expense of my beautiful plas**tic plates I s**tole from that child’s birthday party. I think I’ll go for the economy-friendly choice and grab for the knife.
Now to tell Adam. Adam’s my flatmate, he doesn’t savour teacake day quite as much as me, but he certainly respects it for the event that it is. Better grab the tissues jus**t in case, he’s certainly burs**t into tears for a lot less, like when that old lady punched him in the face for trying to help her cross the road. Although to be fair he was bleeding heavily, and his girlfriend had dumped him earlier that day so maybe that old lady jus**t punched his emotions out of him.
Each s**tep feels like mans firs**t s**tep on the moon. I’m sweating, I’m actually sweating. This isn’t good, it makes me look like a pervert. He won’t mind, he sometimes misses teacake day anyway. He might even offer them to me if he’s in a good mood.
“Oh, is it teacake day today Rich? Thank god, I’ve been feeling like sh*t these pas**t few days, something to cheer me up eh?”
Oh crap, he’s gonna kill me. Or maybe jus**t cry at me. Why today? Why not on toas**ted baguette day? He doesn’t care for toas**ted baguette day.
“Em… Adam… ‘Ad’ my old mate… there’s something I’ve got to tell yo…”
If only I had a camera to capture the look on his face now, I could make a fortune by showing it to people and telling them he’s a charity case, for beaten wives or s**tarving children or something.
“Bu… but… te…” He tried to form some sort of sentence but jus**t came out as a jumbled pile of crap.
It’s hard to tell whether he’s about to cry or bludgeon me to death with my plas**tic plates.
“Hey, it’s not all bad, you can butter the bottoms if you want, I can always s**teal some more plas**tic plates, it’s alright.”
“No, it’s not alright, I was really looking forward to your b***ard teacake day, and you’ve nobbed it up again. Have a look at them, not even peanut butter could save them from tas**ting like week-old fag ash, and peanut butter solves everything.”
“I’m sorry, it was a moment of madness, I took much time looking for the milk. I don’t even like milk in my tea, it was for you! I’m sorry…”
“Sorry isn’t good enough this time Rich, why couldn’t it have been on toas**ted baguette day? I only put up with toas**ted baguette day because it means I get to beat you at Connect-4 afterwards.”
“We can play Connect-4 now, jus**t please, don’t mash me into a pulp with my paper plates…”
---------------------------------------------
I’m sure Adam will calm down by this evening. I thought it was a bit harsh him taking my teacake and using various parts of it as Connect-4 pieces. It very hard getting butter out of all the little cracks, and there’s no way I’ll be able to eat them.
Well I’m at work now, so I doubt he can get to me here. The library. Books and books about things no one’s ever going to care about, people jus**t come in hear to annoy me and ask for obscure books, or Fly Fishing by J R Hartley. I sometimes wish I could jus**t run around b*****k naked pretending I’ve got tourettes so no one ever bothers me again, but I can’t say my employers would appreciate that.
Oh no, some old person’s approaching, clutching onto some old dus**ty book for their life. Right, I’m jus**t gonna tell him to p*ss off, it’s my lunch break in 5 minutes. Without fail I always get someone trying to was**te my time moments before my lunch break, then no one else for the res**t of the day.
“E… excuse me, is there any way I could buy this please…?”
“I’m sorry sir, this a library, you can’t buy the books here.”
“Well… how long could I borrow it for...?”
Jus**t tell him to go away, tell him you’ll be right back in one moment to check something, he’ll go away after half an hour has passed, surely.
“You can borrow it for a week at a time, but you’ll have to come in every week with it if you wish to keep it any longer.”
“We… well I’ll take it out for a week then, thank you son”
“Okay, what’s your name?”
“I think… it’s Robert Harding…”
“O… okay, see you next week.”
Oh crap, I’ll have to see him next week. As if going round through the same circle every day isn’t bad enough, now I’ll have him coming here every week to bother me. Maybe I jus**t won’t come in on Thursday’s any more. Maybe I’ll go to that res**taurant that always gives me food poisoning every Wednesday.
I remember a great man once saying “we’re all trapped in a life of mundanity.” Actually, it was on Paper Mario las**t night, but if there’s one person you can trus**t, it’s Mario. No complicated relationships, no taxes or bills to pay, jus**t a plumber, beating up turtles and saving princesses.
I think that’s a sentiment we can all live by.
Darkness all around, smoke filling the room; today was meant to be a special day, a great day even. Looks like I’ll have to get the knife out. You see, today is that little pocket in the week when I get to go a little bit wild, splash out big time and have a perfect morning. Today is teacake day. No plain bread on Thursdays, oh no, co-op brand buns of happiness, full of little raisins of happiness, and those little orange bits are fairly happy too, although not ecs**tatic as no one knows what they are. But no, today my dreams are quashed. They sit in front of me, not golden-brown and mouth watering like they should be, ins**tead a crispy black coats them. I doubt even the old sink and knife treatment will work, but what’s the wors**t that could happen?
It seems the middles are saved with little effort, the only sacrifice being the sooty black flakes covering my hands, but now comes the ‘big ones’, the crus**ty outer shell. It’s a mess, and the knife seems to have no effect on it at all. Now I have two choices, get out the bread knife and simply cut the crispy black layer clean off, or pile butter on it to hide the tas**te at the expense of my beautiful plas**tic plates I s**tole from that child’s birthday party. I think I’ll go for the economy-friendly choice and grab for the knife.
Now to tell Adam. Adam’s my flatmate, he doesn’t savour teacake day quite as much as me, but he certainly respects it for the event that it is. Better grab the tissues jus**t in case, he’s certainly burs**t into tears for a lot less, like when that old lady punched him in the face for trying to help her cross the road. Although to be fair he was bleeding heavily, and his girlfriend had dumped him earlier that day so maybe that old lady jus**t punched his emotions out of him.
Each s**tep feels like mans firs**t s**tep on the moon. I’m sweating, I’m actually sweating. This isn’t good, it makes me look like a pervert. He won’t mind, he sometimes misses teacake day anyway. He might even offer them to me if he’s in a good mood.
“Oh, is it teacake day today Rich? Thank god, I’ve been feeling like sh*t these pas**t few days, something to cheer me up eh?”
Oh crap, he’s gonna kill me. Or maybe jus**t cry at me. Why today? Why not on toas**ted baguette day? He doesn’t care for toas**ted baguette day.
“Em… Adam… ‘Ad’ my old mate… there’s something I’ve got to tell yo…”
If only I had a camera to capture the look on his face now, I could make a fortune by showing it to people and telling them he’s a charity case, for beaten wives or s**tarving children or something.
“Bu… but… te…” He tried to form some sort of sentence but jus**t came out as a jumbled pile of crap.
It’s hard to tell whether he’s about to cry or bludgeon me to death with my plas**tic plates.
“Hey, it’s not all bad, you can butter the bottoms if you want, I can always s**teal some more plas**tic plates, it’s alright.”
“No, it’s not alright, I was really looking forward to your b***ard teacake day, and you’ve nobbed it up again. Have a look at them, not even peanut butter could save them from tas**ting like week-old fag ash, and peanut butter solves everything.”
“I’m sorry, it was a moment of madness, I took much time looking for the milk. I don’t even like milk in my tea, it was for you! I’m sorry…”
“Sorry isn’t good enough this time Rich, why couldn’t it have been on toas**ted baguette day? I only put up with toas**ted baguette day because it means I get to beat you at Connect-4 afterwards.”
“We can play Connect-4 now, jus**t please, don’t mash me into a pulp with my paper plates…”
---------------------------------------------
I’m sure Adam will calm down by this evening. I thought it was a bit harsh him taking my teacake and using various parts of it as Connect-4 pieces. It very hard getting butter out of all the little cracks, and there’s no way I’ll be able to eat them.
Well I’m at work now, so I doubt he can get to me here. The library. Books and books about things no one’s ever going to care about, people jus**t come in hear to annoy me and ask for obscure books, or Fly Fishing by J R Hartley. I sometimes wish I could jus**t run around b*****k naked pretending I’ve got tourettes so no one ever bothers me again, but I can’t say my employers would appreciate that.
Oh no, some old person’s approaching, clutching onto some old dus**ty book for their life. Right, I’m jus**t gonna tell him to p*ss off, it’s my lunch break in 5 minutes. Without fail I always get someone trying to was**te my time moments before my lunch break, then no one else for the res**t of the day.
“E… excuse me, is there any way I could buy this please…?”
“I’m sorry sir, this a library, you can’t buy the books here.”
“Well… how long could I borrow it for...?”
Jus**t tell him to go away, tell him you’ll be right back in one moment to check something, he’ll go away after half an hour has passed, surely.
“You can borrow it for a week at a time, but you’ll have to come in every week with it if you wish to keep it any longer.”
“We… well I’ll take it out for a week then, thank you son”
“Okay, what’s your name?”
“I think… it’s Robert Harding…”
“O… okay, see you next week.”
Oh crap, I’ll have to see him next week. As if going round through the same circle every day isn’t bad enough, now I’ll have him coming here every week to bother me. Maybe I jus**t won’t come in on Thursday’s any more. Maybe I’ll go to that res**taurant that always gives me food poisoning every Wednesday.
I remember a great man once saying “we’re all trapped in a life of mundanity.” Actually, it was on Paper Mario las**t night, but if there’s one person you can trus**t, it’s Mario. No complicated relationships, no taxes or bills to pay, jus**t a plumber, beating up turtles and saving princesses.
I think that’s a sentiment we can all live by.
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The thing is, even though this isn't your best work, it's still miles better than some of the other stuff out there on the net...
Erm...
Well I read it, to the end as well, and erm...
:)
Well I read it, to the end as well, and erm...
:)
Made me laugh a couple of times, but it was pretty weak by your standards. The ending and link with a circle also felt a little forced.
Oh well.
Oh well.
*pop*
*heckles*
It's not as bad as I made out, just not as descriptive as you usually are, which I like because I learn words from you. Which I like.
yep.
*heckles*
It's not as bad as I made out, just not as descriptive as you usually are, which I like because I learn words from you. Which I like.
yep.
*weeples*
big meanie
big meanie
Just because of that, I'm not to read your stories. :-P
:D
Now shush, and let this sink.
:D
Now shush, and let this sink.
Yeah, what he said.
Just don't go cutting yourself by way of evidence.
And you, Mr. Kyz, stop trying to nobble extra readers. That's my job.
Seriously, Rick, it's all good down my way.
Just don't go cutting yourself by way of evidence.
And you, Mr. Kyz, stop trying to nobble extra readers. That's my job.
Seriously, Rick, it's all good down my way.
"Warm copies... warm copies solve everything"
or something. blahg
or something. blahg
We all churn out crap stories from time to time.
Go bask in my stories warmth for a while.
it's nice, like warm copier paper.
Go bask in my stories warmth for a while.
it's nice, like warm copier paper.
I said to Mav it was like a crappy episode of Peep Show just before I posted it. Ah well, I tried, I failed, I don't care. ;-D
Hopefully this will be forgotten very soon. :)
Hopefully this will be forgotten very soon. :)
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