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Fuel Wars Vignette - Food

Get out of bed, get out of bed, get out of bed a loudspeaker in echoic tones

broadcast this message for thirty minutes starting at 5:30 in the morning.

The residents finally did as they were told when they realized that there was

no snooze button on the interminable sound.

At 6 AM a new message played. Wait outside, wait outside, wait outside this lasted for 10 minutes and

everyone moved to the front of their buildings and into the cold rain soaked air.

Collect your rations, collect your rations, collect your rations the slow

voice commanded everyone.

They looked around vaguely, and, at the bottom of the street, they saw that

a huge metal cage had been erected and in it stood two guards in front of several

hundred boxes. Slowly and still confused they walked towards the cage where the

guards, without word, handed each person a brown cardboard box and in each box

was 21 small bars. A small printed bit of paper in each box contained the following

note:

Dear Citizen,

Your food is now provided by the state. To reduce obesity and prevent starvation

you have been given this box of 21 flavored kelp bars. You will eat one each for

breakfast, lunch and dinner. They have been scientifically designed to fill you up

and ensure that you do not feel hungry for five hours.

Do NOT over eat; there will be no more until next week. Failure to comply will

result in you being locked in the community cage until the next rations arrive.

Signed Your Government

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There were grumbles of dissent, but since the slow eroding of liberties at the

start of the Fuel Wars, the passion for a fight had been lost. A few people looked

around for the Community Cage and assumed it was the one storing the boxes.

They were wrong.

Two hours later, a bulldozer arrived and knocked down a vacant building and

removed the rubble. Then sappers arrived and began constructing a large metal

looking cage on the vacant lot. In the cage they strung 50 hammocks and in a

separate caged area they plumbed in toilets and rudimentary showers. This was all

done within ten hours.

Five days later and the first people started filling the cage, they were

reluctant at first, but not having eaten for three days they realized that at leastthey would be fed. Just one bar a day was given to those inside the cage. It was

bland, tasteless kelp, but it was nutritionally perfect and engineered to ensure that,

whilst they wouldnt feel full, that hunger was kept at the other side of door.

Life inside the cage was dull and uncomfortable, the only time it wasnt

exposed to the elements was when it was heavily raining and kelp sheeting was

dropped down the sides.

Two days later, the rain gave way to sun, the next weekly consignment of

kelp bars was delivered and the greedy were free to collect their next food ration.

The End

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Fuel Wars The Beginning

And the last flame has gone out. The announcer spoke the words that the world

had been waiting for.

Smith turned off the television and stared blankly at the screen. That was it

then. It was quieter than he imagined. It was the final death rattle of an industry

that had changed the world for over 200 years.

And then the sirens sounded. He casually switched on the television again to

see the same announcer wearing a flak jacket and military helmet over her tailored

suit and coiffeured hair, looking as though she was reporting from a distant

warzone and not a very very safe studio.

We are at war, she announced solemnly. The fuel wars have begun.

Smith turned off the television again, stood up, walked to the fridge, took out a cold

beer can and in one fluid motion opened it, drained it and crushed it, before

reaching for another.

Slowly, he walked to his window, put on a pair of black rimmed sunglass and

pulled open the blackout blinds that had been keeping the intense midday sun out

of his apartment. From the 85 th floor of his tower block he could see for miles.

Thats why the Company had given it to him. It was why the Company had built the

edifice and bought the freehold to the surrounding two kilometers of city. TheCompany gave its employees all the floors from the 40 th to the 86 th , and executives

like Smith were given the highest, above him was a conference room. From his

circular penthouse, he had a 365 degree view to way beyond the city limits, and out

into the desert. Right now he could see the bright orange flames and black smoke

of explosions at the Company oil fields. He spoke softly.

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Dial. A telephones dial toned filled the air. Jones, he said, and the

artificial sound of a phone being dialed replaced the dial tone.

Jones here, came a voice through the ether.

Jones, its Smith. You watching the fireworks?

Uhhuh.

Whats the situation on the ground?

All staff evacuated last night, surface level fuel depots empty and fuel stored

two k's below. No collateral damage.

Excellent. Do we know who started this?

Missile sigs suggest a government.

Do we know which one?

Yup Jones replied as though he was chewing a corn stalk. Fucking hayseeds thought Smith.

Call Davis and initiate retaliation. Hang up. and the room fell silent again.

Smith closed the blind, and with his beer, returned to his seat in front of the

television and switched it on.

We have been attacked, came the voice of the now quivering presenter

from somewhere beneath a desk as the scenery behind her shook violently.

Dial. Jones. Jones, Smith. Good job. Hang up.

Ive never could stand that bitch. He said to an empty room as he sippedhis gently warming beer.

The End

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The Trouble with the Joneses - A Harry Patterson short

Oi that hurt. Stop it you crazy cow.

That one was an orange onyx ashtray and it bounced off my shoulder before

leaving a hole in the grass. Any higher and Id have been lying spark out on the

garden I was standing on.

It all started a week before when I got called into my editors office after a

few weeks of reporting on Christmas nativity scenes.

Harry, Joe Jawbreaker Jones, has been nicked, go and cover his trial and

the impact on the community. Take Max with you for the photos when the trial

ends.

Yes boss.

Id only been in the job a year, and this was my first real assignment. Id

covered court cases before as a trainee when I went and watched cases about

minor stuff like shop lifting and drunks being wheeled out in front of a magistrate,

but Mad Joe was serious. He and his family had been terrorizing the area for the

last 20 years and hed got away with it every time. He was a nutter. The caselasted a week and it was a foregone conclusion, he was going down and when the

judge returned to pass sentence he was given five years. His family, sitting next to

me, shouted and booed when the pronouncement was given and when I started to

ask questions I was given a thinly veiled threat from one of the younger members

of the family.

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Piss off unless you want your pretty little fingers broken, was how he phrased it.

My fingers are neither pretty nor little. These gnarled things had worked hard on

my late fathers farm and good genes had made them the size of dinner plates, but

I took his point and left it for a day or so to go and talk to some of his victims. They

were scared, the family had long arms and they were keen that their protection

racket wouldnt stop funding their middle class lifestyle just because Pa had gone

away for few years. A few off the record conversations with no names and no

pack drill hadnt given me enough for a paragraph, never mind the four columns

that my editor expected for the Friday edition. I needed to do something drastic.

Max, I need some decent snaps so I can build a story, lets do some

detective work.Max, was the same age as me and just getting started. Luckily he was as

keen as I was stupid and he was up for any plan I had.

Alright arry whats the plan?

The plan, was to follow the little thug that had threatened me and find out

what he was up to. He was easy enough to find, the family drank in shithole of a

pub where they were given free drinks in exchange for not burning the place down.

Walking through the stained glass wooden doors we approached the bar and the

place fell into the kind of deathly silence that would have allowed a gnats fart to beheard. All eyes fell upon us like the spotlights on an escaping prisoner and I leaned

on the bar and ordered a couple of beers from the barman, who looked at one of

the family, before being given the go ahead.

What do you want, pal? I told you to get lost unless you want your hands

broken.

I just want a drink is that so wrong?

Drink it and leave, its on the house.

I expected as much and Max and I necked our pints before peeling my jacket

sleeve from the sticky beer drenched bar and heading out into the frigid February

air and into our car that parked up the road.

Three hours later and we were still there, feeling like castrated metal apes.

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Jesus its cold, I complained for twentieth time, as I breathed on my

hands.

Oh shut up arry, its fuckin winter. You know its gonna last for another few

months. Anyway I reckon hell be out soon, he must have something to do today.

Maxs intuition was spot on and next time we looked up, this bloke and a

couple of mates were leaving the pub. They climbed into a nearby Cosworth and

had disappeared round the corner before my Montego had even got warm.

Just as we turned the corner, in the same direction that theyd gone, and

cursing myself for not keeping the engine running we saw the same red RS being

stopped by a Panda and the boot was open with a police officer holding, in his

gloved hand, a sawn-off shotgun.

Thats one for the good guys. Max, get a picture of that will you, I think Ihave my story, but first lets go and tell the poor mans mother.

A five minute drive and we were outside Mas house and I knocked on the

door.

I know you. You were outside the court when my Frankie was sent down.

Barry told you to get lost.

Yeah, I just saw him having a conversation with the policeman holding a

shotgun. It seems like you may be losing a son as well. Now do you have anything

to say for the Herald?She slammed the door in my face and the next thing I know pots, pans and a

lot of abuse are being thrown at me from an upstairs window.

The photographs were great; especially the ones of me cowering behind my

car after the ashtray nearly dislocated my shoulder and her other children speeding

down the road to rescue Ma and coming over with baseball bats to damage my

hands and Maxs camera. And we sped off for the good of our health.

Barry was locked up for a six months and I was given a death threat, which,

after the windows on my car were broken, I took seriously enough to hand in my

notice and see what Hong Kong could offer to a probationary hack.

The End

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Happy Birthday

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dearrrrrrrrrr

Johhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnn, happy birthday to you. A round of applause and John

stared unblinkingly upon a bank of computer screens, CCTV cameras, cables and

tubes with multi-colored liquids flowing through them; the rest of his body was

encased in a shiny black sarcophagus that would bend and flex each of his 640

muscles.

The camera panned away and Johns family filed out of the small room that

was adorned with streamers, balloons, banners and the paper string and plastic

remnants of party poppers.In Johns mind he was having a great time, he could see his family and talk

to them whilst enjoying the taste of the best cake he could remember. As it was his

14 th he was even allowed a small glass of sweet sparkling wine and it made him

sleepy. After a while his mother and father left and he returned to school life.

Ah that was nice, said his mother, do you think hes happy? That was the

same question she asked every year at this time.

Of course he is, hes got the best life money can buy. That was his fathers

response to the same question.

The Academy was the place to send your children. Au pairs and nannies were

considered old fashioned and even boarding schools had become pass for those

who could afford something better.

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Four years later it was graduation, one hundred pairs of parents gathered in the

banqueting hall of one of the finest restaurants in the country and as the clock

struck 1pm, 25 limousines began to drop the young adults at the front entrance

where they were herded into the reception room. Once they were all there, an

electronic fanfare was piped through a sound system and the dining rooms doors

swung open.

The parents were aghast as their offspring nonchalantly, but confidently,

walked through the doors. To a man they were all fit, slim, toned and tanned

beneath perfectly tailored suits. Some of the mothers and fathers, not in the first

flush of youth, gasped as they saw these healthy young men, who if they werent

destined to become leaders of men would grace the covers of fashion magazines,

enter the room and casually survey the area looking for their progenitors .But behind them came John, the exception to the rule. Its not that he looked

much different. He was tanned, his muscles were taught and he was quite

handsome. But there was something in his gait that just shouldnt be there. His

shoulders slumped forward, his chin drooped and as he walked he looked at the

floor only occasionally raising his eyes to get his bearings.

John, John! gushed his parents.

He raised his eyes and briefly smiled before walking off to the edge of the room and

finding a seat. I guess it is a bit overwhelming, said his Mother.

Ill be damned if hell do that, muttered his father before irritatingly

wandering off to find the headmaster.

Hello, John. Is something wrong? his mother had gone to find him.

Hello Mother. He spoke quietly and without emotion.

At the tender age of five, he was enrolled at The Academy a private school

for the richest of parents that believed in the Victorian principles of child raising:

that children should be seen but not heard. His progress could be watched by his

parents through TV screens and realtime graphs showing his body weight, IQ, blood

sugar count and everything in between. Children at The Academy were the

healthiest in the world, their nutrition was constantly tweaked to ensure they had

the best. Lessons were delivered through personal online tutors that, through the

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use of constant brain scans, monitored brain activity for signs of interest and

adapted the lesson plan accordingly.

In his mind John was pursuing an active life of interacting with his friends,

going to school and being forced to do homework and run for three miles around a

freezing cold field in the name of building character. That was the theory and so far

no one had contradicted it.

How was school dear?

Lonely, very lonely.

Didnt you play with friends?

Some of the time I played with friends but at the end of the day I just stood

and stared out at row upon row of blinking lights for hour upon hour until my eyes

closed and I returned to my friends. I couldnt move a muscle during all of thattime.

There there dear it cant have been that bad.

You left me alone for thirteen years. He looked deeply into her eyes.

Thirteen years of pain and misery. Thirteen years of sleepless nights. I must leave

now. Good bye mother. I used to ask myself why, but now I dont care. Have you

any idea how lonely it is for a boy to be locked up without seeing his parents?

But you saw us love.

In my minds eye, but I never felt your love. But they told me

They told you what? That we wouldnt know the difference? That we

wouldnt miss out on anything? He almost spat at her with the venom.

Yes, yes, thats what they said.

They lied or they dont know. Either way it doesnt matter, now goodbye

mother.

And with that he stood up and walked away.

They didnt see him again until 20 years later when he arrived at the

reception of his fathers office building.

Hello Father. He still spoke with the soft dry intonation hed had all those

years ago.

Hello John, how have you been?

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You have heard I assume?

It had been in the news John Sutherland had developed the cure for locked-

in syndrome. There would be no more patients afflicted by this paralysis.

Were very proud of you. You see, that school was the best education that

money could buy and now look what youve achieved.

It is true that without that school I wouldnt have wanted to cure that

problem. But I wanted to discover what caused it as well.

And you did?

I did.

Excellent, excellent. Well now if thats all Im extremely busy.

Shall we have lunch Father? I have invited Mother.

Yes yes alright. His tone was hurried.They took a taxi to a small apartment in the center of town and entered

through an anonymous door, taking a goods lift to the seventh floor. They entered

a room which had a dining table and three chairs in it and two sarcophagis. His

mother was already there.

What is this John? asked his mother.

We never had dinner together, so I thought wed have one last family meal.

And those things? his father nodded towards the caskets and just then both

parents slapped the side of their necks with the palms of their hands. You havebugs in here John?

Just those two. Now please eat.

They ate and they talked and John explained what his life was like at school

and what hed been doing for the last 20 years. Presently his parents fell asleep and

he moved them into the coffins where they would pretend they were living their

normal lives until the evening when the darkness engulfed them and they would be

awake for 12 hours staring out into the never ending darkness.

The End

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resulted in some of our credit card customers being overcharged. Several

complained and threatened to change banks.

As his supervisor I took most of the responsibility and was hauled across the

coals. I was stressed not only because my team had screwed up but because I

could have prevented the mistake by doing my job. Instead, I killed time at work

browsing online for books just out of sheer boredom.

Being bollocked makes me feel inadequate, just the way I was as a 14 year

old at school. Hunter my maths teacher would shout what is x if b plus the

square root of b2-4ac divided by 2a? and Id stand there and quiver.

II...

I what Hunter?

I dont know, sir You dont know? Werent you listening? and then, without waiting for an

answer hed turn to someone else and in a withering tone say Johnson tell Hunter

what the answer is.

Of course my carpeting wasnt anything like that, 30 years on. It was all a bit

more civilized. But my ingrained reaction was the same, and my bowels churned.

I angrily left for lunch in a rush from the barren walls, fluorescent lighting,

stale air and most of all the noise, the constant chit chat and shrill squeal of the

temp agency girl flirting with the young men. Any other day Id envy them and let itwash over me. Today, I felt they sensed my anger and were carrying on this way

deliberately to bait me.

The crisp February air and sunshine were a welcome change from the murk

of the office. I still felt unhinged, my head filled with a dense fog. It was like a

serious head cold that causes stupid errors of judgment or retarded performance of

even the simplest tasks such as getting on the right bus or checking that the road

is clear.

I walked down the street, got on the tube, caught the train and went home,

calling in sick from the train. It may have looked a bit suspicious, but I was more

afraid of what might have happened had I stayed in the office.

Arriving at the station, I walked the 15 minutes home. Nobody would be

there, my wife was at work and my daughter was at school.

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Shit. It was half term. Id forgotten all about it. I leave for work before my

daughter gets up and return home after her normally. Im a bit out of touch with

her schedule.

Hi Dad, she said as I walked through the door

Hi Jessah struth, its half term, isnt it?

Er yeah? What you doing home?,

Oh, Im sick.

Bunking off more like, she smiled

Yeah, something like that.

The mist had cleared a little. I liked seeing Jess. I missed her when I didnt

see her and as we grew older we were seeing less and less of each other.

Say seeing as were both at home, do you want to go to a movie and grab apizza for dinner?

Sorry Dad, Im meeting Dianne and Susan in town in an hour or so

Ok, have fun, Ill go to Sainsburys and treat myself.

I went up stairs to change into jeans, t-shirt and jumper, pulled on some

shoes, pulled the car keys off the rack and went to the car.

The drive was uneventful. But, because it was half term, the place was full of

mums and their kids. It was like hell on earth and I was about to enter the seventh

circle of it.Hell is other people, according to Sartre. Id say hell is a supermarket or

shopping center during a school holiday.

The vegetable aisle thronged with human cattle. The elderly pulling along

bags ready for an extra bottle of booze or a pack of biscuits; the chronically

unemployed shy and feckless in their pajamas and slippers; mums of all types who

needed to get something for the nights tea as the half term upset their normal

routine; and a few who fitted no category, people who should be working but

werent. Maybe theyd finished for the day, were throwing a sickie or taking the

afternoon off just as I was.

I let out a deep sigh as the mental fog descended again. I didnt want to be

around people and expected the supermarket, in the middle of the afternoon in the

middle of the week, to be a quiet haven. I felt as if I were suffocating.

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All I needed was a space at the deli counter for some nice pate, cheese and

biscuits and then the wine aisle. Instead, I was blocked at every turn by a trolley or

a small child and forced to perform little hopscotch-style jumps and shuffles to get

through.

At the deli counter, I was out of breath and turning puce. Gripping the top of

the counter, I deliberately took deep, slow breaths. It took a few minutes before I

began to calm down.

Then some Neanderthal, halfbreed blubber babe in pink fleece pajamas and

pink slippers wailed at a kid called Jedward and bumped, I should say rammed, into

my back. She was walking at full speed and suddenly turned to clip Jedward around

the head. I know his name because she was yelling it in his ear.

But then, to my utter incomprehension she wailed on me and spewed fortha string of expletives about how I was in her way. I took it for over a minute

before I pulled out a night stick and beat her senseless well, dead, actually. She

was senseless before I laid a splinter on her. Her head cracked loudly and the blood

scattered around the scene like droplets of mercury on a science lab desk. Her kid

screamed in terror.

What was his problem? He was free now to change his name and escape the

brutality of his life.

His fat mother, eyes popping out of her skull, jaw hanging loosely, wouldnever speak abusively to anyone again.

I pulled off my jumper and t-shirt, wiped the blood off my face and walked

calmly from the store. Time was frozen, and I walked through it. I didnt hear

anybody scream. Everyone parted as silently as the electric doors through which I

left.

At least thats what I wanted to have done as I slowly stirred from my dream

of what might have happened.

The woman stopped shouting obscenities; I turned to the deli server and

ordered. She poked me again.

Are you gonna say sorry?

Pardon?

You deaf or stupid? Are you gonna apologize?

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For what? You bumped into me, I was just standing here

You want a slap mister?

I was beginning to wish I had the night stick.

Im sorry for bumping into you I said without a hint of sarcasm.

She still picked up on my lack of sincerity. You being funny mister?

No, I mean it I am truly sorry,

Well what you gonna do about it?

The image of her dead body sprawled on the floor returned briefly.

Ive apologized, what more, could you want?

You could compensate me,

I dont think so,

Buy me my shopping or Ill claim sexual harassmentI smiled at the thought of someone molesting this hag. I leaned back to

breathe out of my mouth, to avoid the smell of cigarette smoke on her breath.

What you laughing at?

Nothing, nothing, I said before turning to the deli server, and asking him to

pass me his meat tenderizer .

The End

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A Dole Bludgers Nightmare

Monday 9am Yawned, opened my eyes, looked at the clock. Wrote this and decided it was too

early to get up.

Monday 11am

Woke up again, decided it was now was time to get up. Got out of bed, and ran a

bath, whilst it was running I went down stairs, put the kettle on for my morning

pint of tea, poured some coco pops into a bowl and added the milk and a spoon of

sugar. The kettle boiled and I added the water to the cup and tea bag. The bath

was nearly ready, so I took the cereal and tea upstairs and got in for a nice relaxing

soak. Grabbing a magazine from beside the toilet I read for a while and became

sleepy again.

Monday 1 pm

Ah shit, the coco pops have disintegrated and the magazine has turned to sludge at

the bottom of the bath, and its stuck in my bits. The tea, on the other hand is now

beautifully dark, almost coffee in colour and with enough of that furry taste to make

it seem as though it could recoat an Indian restaurants wallpaper. Getting out I

scrape the remains of an article about the body beautiful off my thigh. I stand on

the bathroom scales and wince as the dial spins round stopping somewhere I wont

mention. But knowing full well that: the sponge cake, six pack of coke, 12 Pizza,

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economy pack of digestive biscuits and a freezer full of ready meals have to be

eaten before I go on a diet. Having dried myself and gotten dressed, I grab a

cigarette and settle down in front of the TV, with 250 channels to choose from, how

come I can never find anything to watch? I settle for a soap. Having missed

breakfast I pick through the remaining pizza and settle down in front of the telly.

Monday 3:30pm

The bloody door rings, and right in the middle of a repeat of Ready Steady Cook.

Answering it, I see a bloke in a suit holding a clip board. Miss Smith? he asks

Uh huh,

Im here to repossess your belongings,

What, you cant do that, I have a letter here that says I can he shows me a letter, it says I owe 11

grand in unpaid parking fines. But heres the thing, I think its really unfair that I

should have to pay 30 quid to park my car outside my house and when I dont pay

it or move it, they keep giving me parking tickets cos I wont move it. I mean,

surely once Ive had one parking ticket I should be able to park for as long as I like.

They sent me letters about it and I talked to them, but all I got was nonsense

about not being able to park there. I cant get a parking permit because the car

isnt registered to where I live, cos its cheaper to get insurance 30 miles away. Butthe council doesnt care, but they should care. Thats what people pay their taxes

for. It aint my fault I cant find a job and pay for parking. Youd have thought that

after not having paid 160 tickets theyd be a bit more understanding, especially

since this has been going for so long.

Sorry mate you cant come in, this aint my house. Im staying with a mate

for bit and all the stuff is his

I have a letter here

I shut the door and wandered back to watch the telly, children's TV would be

starting soon.

You cant ignore this Miss Smith he shouted through the letter box and

dropped a letter through.

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Tuesday 2am

Bed time, a few mates came over for drinks and a movie and a joint or two and left

about 30 minutes ago. Its been a good day, being unemployed may be boring at

times, but I get enough money for fags, Sky TV, booze and food, what with the rent

being paid to my mate, were quids in. But why arent they paying for the car? It

aint my fault. Night, night.

The Dream

What a nightmare, I dreamt I was unemployed and about to lose everything

because the government wouldnt pay my parking fines and tried to blame me. The

cold sweat was pouring off my face. I fumbled around in the dark. Yup Dave is

there, the cats purring at the end of the bed. The alarm clock says 6am, ahhhanother 30 minutes of bed time before we have to get up, get Sylvia ready for

nursery and then head off to work. I snuggle up to Dave and before I know it, the

buzzer is going, I jump into a shower, hear Dave stir and Sylvia runs to me, just as

Im getting dry. Dave jumps into the shower and I get Sylvia her breakfast and

grab some cereal for myself. Its 8am and we all leave the house together, my job

as an estate agent is only a short drive and I like to get there before the shop

opens to get the place sorted. Dave works about an hour away and has a mad drive.

I dont envy him but he enjoys his job.At lunch time, I went and sorted out a few direct debits and spent 20

minutes trying to get through to the council on the phone to pay a parking fine

before it doubled. I gave up on the phone, there are only so many times you can

hear a recorded voice telling you how important you are to them before you want

to reach down the line and pull the tape out. If I'm so important why dont they hire

more staff to pick up the phones. Surely theyve worked out that more people call

them during their lunch times? I know theyre my problem, but theyre an

occupational hazard. I grab a coat and head up to the parking shop. Its a

depressing place, the staff are abrupt and queues take a long time to move. Ahead

of me was an Eastern European, he was arguing with staff about having to pay his

tickets, but they have their rules and dont get paid enough to put up with the

constant attitude they get from people who think theyre owed something for

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nothing. Eventually the man acquiesced and got out a big wad of fifty pound notes,

and counted out about 500 pound. It barely dented the pile.

The afternoon was a mad rush, its a busy time of year, just before the

Budget, buyers and sellers wanting to move before the inevitable Stamp Duty rise.

After all who wants to give even more money to the government if it can be

avoided? So I ran home, picked up Sylvia from the nanny, cooked our dinner of

tortilla wraps with salmon fish sticks and a baked potato, and watched some TV

with her before putting her to bed. Dave came home, just as she was drifting off.

She of course woke up, wanting to see daddy, so I left them too it and put my feet

up with a glass of wine and bit of TV. He finally emerged from her room at nine,

having dozed off with her. We chatted, made tired unenergetic love and went to

sleep; knowing that tomorrow would bring more of the same.

Tuesday - 10am

God I need a pee. I had a really weird dream last night. Dreamt I was a posh bird,

with a job and a husband and a child and I paid my bills. It was scary to think that

some people actually want to pay their bills and work for their money. Suckers,

now its time for breakfast TV and a fag.

The End

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A Slow Boat to England - A Love Story

30 airports, 30 airplanes, 12,000 people, 24,000 feet walking along endless miles of

carpet and flying over thousands of miles of land and sea on their way to who

knows where. The airports I fly too are universally dull, full of bleary eyed drones

who cant wait to get aboard and settle their sacks of bones into lightly sprung

polyester seats for endless hours of lukewarm food, and uninspiring entertainment

before entering into a zombie like stupor for the duration of their flights and during

one of these trips it becomes clear that, as with most things in modern life, we

havent been freed by modernity but trapped by it.

The porter pushes his sack barrow loaded with my three-piece Globetrotter

luggage set up the gangplank to the deck and then up the stairs to my luxurious

cabin. I tip him heftily and survey my surroundings. My room is spacious, on par

with a luxury suit in a 5-star hotel, with all the mod cons youd expect, a satellite

connected 54 flat screen LED TV with surround sound, Egyptian cotton sheets and

duvet cover, a whirlpool bath and more Egyptian cotton in the toweling. I step outonto the balcony and watch the crew gather in the mooring ropes and prepare to

set sail. The surrounding docks are picturesque in a roughly hewn industrial way;

the cranes lift and then carry the containers from ship to shore. Our ship pulls away

from the dock and were on our way. The next 23 days are to be spent travelling

from Hong Kong to Southend, Im already dressed in suit, so i slip my jacket on and

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background and generally preferred to socialize with working men rather than the

faux aristocracy with whom I was forced to spend most of my working life. It was

considered out-of-bounds for paying passengers as it was considered that they

crew needed somewhere that they could escape from us and not have to be so

polite. They looked surprised when I stuck my round round the heavy steel door,

not quite sure whether to tell me to fuck off or just leave me to realize that I had

made a mistake and wander back from whence I'd crawled in from. I asked if I

could come in, the Chief Engineer, who was a broad Scotsman both physically and

in accent, came and had a word. Its not strictly allowed, sir the contempt

dripping from his tongue like saliva from Pavolovs pooch. I stopped him before he

could I say any more and he began to turn away, thinking that I'd understood and

would leave it at that. Id been to university in Edinburgh and spent many of myfree weekends in the highlands and slid back into the heavy brogue Id picked up

there in the countless evenings in bars and told him that it was fine, but I was more

comfortable socializing with the crew and in return all the crew would be tipped

generously. He stopped, slapped the back of my shoulders and said well why

didnt you say so? The deckhands were mostly Filipinos with no ability to speak

English and kept themselves to themselves, the officers were a mixture of Germans,

Scots, English, Italian and Australian, educated men who could all speak their own

language plus several others. Apart from James, my new found cohort, and acouple of deckhands on a break, the bar was empty. Beyond the steel door the bar

was comfortably, if sparsely decorated, there was a row of seats at the back with

four round tables and assorted stools, the bar itself had three stools against it. It

was a fully functioning bar with optics, draught beer, an ice bucket and bar towels.

Whatd ya fancy? asked James as he stood behind the bar. A neat rum was

needed as a pre-dinner tipple. After one or three later, James and I went our

separate ways for dinner, where I met Janice, shed been working all afternoon but

after dinner was ready for relaxing swim, and asked if id join her. By 10 oclock the

others guests had gone back inside and we were left to ourselves. Janice had kept

herself trim, and wore a 2 piece swimsuit without any cares, I on the other hand

had been suffering from middle aged spread since I was in my mid 20s when my

metabolism slowed but my drinking and eating habits increased, I was a little self

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conscious sitting there next to her so wore slacks and a linen shirt. Once we were

alone, she asked me to join her in the pool, I made to go and get my swim shorts

but she simply looked at me silently and undid her bikini top and stepped out of her

bottoms, placing them on the side of the pool. Not being backwards in coming

forward I took the hint and removed my clothes and stepped into the pool. From

there on in fantasies were fulfilled and fluids exchanged and we woke up in my

cabin. It was half an hour to go before breakfast and Janice decided it would be

prudent to get some fresh clothes on. During breakfast we chatted as part of the

group, eager not to draw attention to ourselves by ether ignoring each other or

speaking solely to one another. We didn't see each other again until lunch, I

occupied myself by reading on my balcony and writing in my journal, at midday we

all assembled for pre-lunch drinks.

The next 23 days continued in much the same vein, Janice and I continued

our tryst, spending nights between each other cabins, we gave up keeping it a

secret after about the filth day when we were caught having a late night dip sans

costumes. There were disapproving looks from the newlyweds, who rather

idealistically believed in the sanctity of marriage, but the others didn't react in one

way or another, although there were some subtle nods from the married men. In

between evenings with Janice I spent time in the crew bar and got to know the

officers and crew a bit better and spent a lot of time on the bridge and on the decksas well as reading and generally relaxing.

We pulled into Southampton docks on a cold Wednesday morning, Janice and

I said our goodbyes one last time and I made my way back to my cabin to pack.

We had a final breakfast and said farewell to the crew and as promised I tipped the

crew handsomely.

Back in the real world my car arrives at the hotel and I make a mental note

to look into travel by cargo ship and then I call my wife, Janice.

The End

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Missed Opportunities

The end of the world is nigh, proclaimed the sandwich board slung over Jamess

shoulders. He was used to the verbal abuse and the urine. Fists soaked into him

like the rain that soaked his bones on inclement days. All the time he smiled to

himself. It wasnt just that he believed the end of the world was coming: he knew.

From the LCD display on his board, he knew that in precisely 4 hours, 24 minutes

and 2 seconds the Earth would shatter into an infinite number of molecules.

He and others like him had tried warning us, but they were ignored. For the

39 years, since James had arrived on Earth, hed been telling people the end of the

world was coming. He wanted to give us enough notice. Now it was too late. For the

last time he removed the board and rested it against the plate glass window of a

shop and walked away. Oi, come back, shouted a spotty youth in a dark blue blazer and a name

tag that also announced the name of the store he worked for.

Sorry Robin, James read the young mans badge; its too late.

The End

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Born with Dignity

Ooo isnt it lovely, George? cooed Mildred as they sat on Brighton promenade

watching the seagulls dive and the sea gently lap the pebble shore on a pleasantly

warm day in June.

Yes, love, its absolutely beautiful. We havent had a holiday like this for

He paused and closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and smelled the fragrant salt

air. Oh, I dont remember.

George and Mildred held hands and watched sunset as they slowly drifted offto sleep.

Elsewhere, June was reclining and perspiring on her patio sun lounger,

watching her grandchildren gambol and giggle and their parents, her children,

grilling steaks on the barbeque whilst holding glasses of wine and chatting and

laughing. She watched all this happening from a distance, feeling slightly

disconnected from it all. A light warm rain shower cooled her down and she licked

her lips tasting the small water droplets, she closed her eyes and took in a deep

breath of the smell of ozone and drifted off to sleep.

You alright Jane?

Bloody busses, one bit of rain and the whole system grounds to a halt; then

just as I got outside, a truck goes too fast through a puddle and soaks me to the

bone. Oh well, never mind. What have we got on today?

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Theres an old couple in room 503, a single woman in 210, and in 320 there

was a handsome young man.

I hate it when theyre young. Such a shame. Still I suppose he had his

reasons.

In a rather enlightened bit of policy making, an outgoing government,

realizing that they achieved nothing in their last eight years and had nothing to

lose, decided to legalize euthanasia. It would certainly cost them the election,

maybe keep them from power forever; but having decided to separate the church

from the state, they threw all the religious rhetoric to the wind and launched a pro-

freewill campaign. It was, much to their surprise, incredibly popular and launched

them to power for the next five elections.

Okay, Doc,what happens now? asked the handsome young man. Youll have your approval or rejection in three-to-four weeks, a cooling off

period if you like, and then youll be assigned a liaison officer, who will be your

contact from there on in.

What are my chances?

Thats not for me to say. An independent panel will watch this session

recording. Theyll also read my notes and view the test results. Its for the best. To

be sure.

Joe wheeled himself out of the office and slowly made his way home. How did it go, Joe? asked his parents.

I just have to sit back and wait. He smiled. Nothing new there then, more

bloody sitting.

For three years, ever since hed been involved in a freak accident whilst

practicing for his fourth marathon, Joe had been confined to a wheelchair. His

broken spine and pelvis were damaged so badly that he was lucky to be alive. The

irony, that hed been hit by an out of control motorbike spinning through the air

from behind, did not escape Joe even in the moment of the accident. Nor did he

forget seeing the rider land and crumple at his feet moments before the impact.

Just as Joe was recovering from the shock of seeing the leather clad figure at his

feet, 200 kilos of Ducati Monster smashed into him and sent him spinning along the

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