8
80's all the way
Guest
Last week the doorbell rang, I stumbled out of my grizzly cot like a drip from a leak in your roof and hobbled down the stairs of my empty squalled den, still slightly numb from the night before. My dissent towards the door felt like a half hour hike. I counted each step till I got to a low double figure and I was finally at ground level. I reached for the door, opened and the Political *** kisser was revealed, without even a “good afternoon” he stuttered into gear and claimed I should vote for his little gang of bored old biddies in suits, claimed there way was the best, “The usual” if you know what I mean. The usual indeed, this pretentious scrubber of a geezer in black was jabbering the jargon at 200 miles an hour to me, a 17 year old. The only un-usual aspect of the scenario, for him anyway, was I, dressed in only a vomit stained pair of boxers and a head of extremely tangled, gravity defying hair that hid my upper face.
After showering me in wasted propaganda paperwork and flyers dressed in the dreariest fonts that would bring a graphic designer such as myself to gouging his own eyes out with salad spoons, the terrible bastard left me to my solitude, leaving a snail trail of his own self worth. He was the pinnacle of everything I hate. He was the polar opposite of myself. He was a filthy old business man with a fake grin on his mouth and a fake voice to match.
They say opposites attract and I suppose it’s true. I cannot help but to ponder what joy a business minded mortal obtains from such a dull work line when money is the only attraction and the only motivation of the job is to succeed whilst others perish. I suppose he looks at my kind and wonders what on earth we are doing searching for peace and self integrity with no set pay role and contentment with the standard. I suppose it’s like a car crash. You know it’s not a pretty sight but curiosity always wins.
Today I saw the very same man in the very same suit on the very same route of houses that he preaches the word of capitalism to.
I switched off all the lights and sat in my chair that faces the door that he would soon approach in good time, slurping an espresso in the mean time, gripping its warmth in my hand. I hear foot steps approach and then appeared the silhouette of the awful ******, in front of the glass windows within the door 5 meters away from where I sat. The bell rang and I stayed put, grinning. I saw the shape ahead straighten up and inflate followed by the sound of a cough to clear its throat, prepared for the old 200 miles an hour jargon speech. I remained seated, I saved him the satisfaction of witnessing my sort, I don’t like being something of a curiosity to that machine, I refuse to please it! The shape deflated and posted a flyer through the letterbox. The suite went on his stride and I picked up the flyer, what an insult it is to decorate a piece of paper in ‘comic sans’ typeface.
I went into the street and approached the sod from behind, taped him on the shoulder and placed the flyer in his breast pocket along with his others and told him litter was a crime.
What do you think?
After showering me in wasted propaganda paperwork and flyers dressed in the dreariest fonts that would bring a graphic designer such as myself to gouging his own eyes out with salad spoons, the terrible bastard left me to my solitude, leaving a snail trail of his own self worth. He was the pinnacle of everything I hate. He was the polar opposite of myself. He was a filthy old business man with a fake grin on his mouth and a fake voice to match.
They say opposites attract and I suppose it’s true. I cannot help but to ponder what joy a business minded mortal obtains from such a dull work line when money is the only attraction and the only motivation of the job is to succeed whilst others perish. I suppose he looks at my kind and wonders what on earth we are doing searching for peace and self integrity with no set pay role and contentment with the standard. I suppose it’s like a car crash. You know it’s not a pretty sight but curiosity always wins.
Today I saw the very same man in the very same suit on the very same route of houses that he preaches the word of capitalism to.
I switched off all the lights and sat in my chair that faces the door that he would soon approach in good time, slurping an espresso in the mean time, gripping its warmth in my hand. I hear foot steps approach and then appeared the silhouette of the awful ******, in front of the glass windows within the door 5 meters away from where I sat. The bell rang and I stayed put, grinning. I saw the shape ahead straighten up and inflate followed by the sound of a cough to clear its throat, prepared for the old 200 miles an hour jargon speech. I remained seated, I saved him the satisfaction of witnessing my sort, I don’t like being something of a curiosity to that machine, I refuse to please it! The shape deflated and posted a flyer through the letterbox. The suite went on his stride and I picked up the flyer, what an insult it is to decorate a piece of paper in ‘comic sans’ typeface.
I went into the street and approached the sod from behind, taped him on the shoulder and placed the flyer in his breast pocket along with his others and told him litter was a crime.
What do you think?