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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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Its been a little while since i wrote anything so a short story.
It began like any other day.
I woke alone without the alarm, there was no light coming from the crack between the curtains, there never was at this time of year the environment outside amiably agreeing with my frosty mood.
I couldn’t see the clock and didn’t care about the time it was to be another of those lockdown days, nowt to get up for, nowt to do but exist, my imagination gone the way of my hope with a one-way ticket on an express train to “Ah fuck it lets leave and get out of here”.
It was cold and I didn’t want to get out of bed so I turned over and drove my bloody great hard on into the mattress. I didn’t want to deal with it, there was no thought of sex or any eroticism, just a sensation telling me I needed to pee.
I waited for a minute or two and closed my eyes wishing sleep to come back and banish the prospect of another day, my bladder won.
Into the bathroom and wait “C’mon calm down get flaccid.” It’s difficult enough to pee with a hard on and you can’t aim and I couldn’t be arsed getting on my knees and cleaning behind the toilet then, later or ever so I tapped my foot whilst I waited. Finally I felt myself relax and emptied my bladder, gave him a shake and felt a wet drop land on my thigh as I walked back to the bedroom. Fuck it, I ignored it.
I felt more than saw my tracksuit bottoms, no knickers I won’t be getting any visitors, same t shirt as yesterday it doesn’t matter about the bean stain and downstairs whilst being careful not to trip over the cat.
Tripping over the cat is double jeopardy and to be avoided at all costs. The first thing is she is liable to claw your leg as you are flying towards the bottom of the stairs headlong into the wall and once they get stuck in she doesn’t like to let go. The second part of the double jeopardy is she will have the arsehole all day.
When the cat gets the arsehole she shows this by clawing the carpet, three piece suite, dining room chairs and walls, she refuses to eat but keeps asking for food and will not use the cat flap. Added to this she is Bi Polar so she will come into the chair where I am sat, rub her cheeks against my hand then bite it before jumping down and showing me her arse. This can last for an hour, a morning or whole day. I once shut her out of the room but she then used her cat litter and sprayed the hallway with wooden pellets.
I managed to make it to the kitchen without incident, made a cup of tea, lit a fag and went into the lounge.
I picked my “Dad cardigan” up from the back of the sofa and put it on because I wasn’t going to put the heating on and switched on to BBC Breakfast.
I don’t know why I watch it. One day they tell me I’m a racist, the next praise me for been a useful member of a wonderfully diverse multi-cultural society. Another day they might make me feel guilty because I’ve admittedly being lucky at times but also worked hard, have a nice house and can afford to feed myself and the next they might tell me I’m greedy and selfish and should contribute more to those who are less fortunate.
“Oh good its Sally with the Sport”
“Food Banks, Sporting Events brought Covid to the UK, Arsenal lost, at last some good news”
I decide to go though the channels coming accross How’s it made on Blaze.
"Oh, I’ve seen this one. The Plastic is moulded into the shape of a disc. Yes. Then it’s sent to a man standing at an industrial drill. He is wearing a hard hat, ear protectors, fluorescent clothing, gloves, a welders mask and safety boots to drill a half inch hole through a piece of 2mm thick plastic. I suppose if there’s ever an explosion he will be ok. The disc is now going onto its next stage where a ribbon is going to be inserted into the hole by a lady who is sitting at a table and wearing a horrible rust coloured jumper, Well if the explosion comes I wonder if she will survive?. What’s on the other side?”
A whole hour, one more cup of tea and two more fags later I’m still there. 300 channels to choose from and I’ve been through them all. Back to BBC Breakfast.
"Oh look its Wee Jimmy Cranky, it must be a story about Crackerjack, oh no its Nicola Sturgeon. English, Independence, Covid and…". I never find out as I muster the will to finally press the off button.
“Alexa” I shout commandingly from the lounge to the dining room. “Play greatest Hits Radio”.
“I’m sorry I don’t understand. Are you asking about falacio?”
“Greatest Hits Radio”
Eventually I admit defeat, stand up and walk to the dining room, the moment i enter she says “Greatest Hits Radio from Global”
“Smug Bitch” I think.
“Covid is serious…..”
“Oh For fucks sake” I decide to go for a shower and as I pass the hallway window I Iook outside and see a single Daffodil has begun to grow and all of a sudden I feel a little less lethargic, a little less dour and a little more as though spring is arriving and life is going to get better. I think i might go shopping later.
I hope this brought a smile to your lips. Have a great week and remember its only going to get better.
Dave X
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