Frank had lost himself in the maze of streets. He kinda knew where he was as the crow flew, but the way his luck was going his crow was roadkill.
As he walked down the dusty pavements he formulated plan after plan, each one as unrealistic as the last. Finally he happened upon a bank and decided to start from the beginning, If he knew how much he had in his account he would know how far he could run….. while he still had legs.
The result left him chewing over his memory, trying to figure out what the hell he had spent the five thousand on.
The eight hundred he had would get him far enough away to be caught by Eddie, the paper trail would be so obvious. Not even enough money for a decent stroll Frank thought as he folded the notes and placed them in his canvas wallet. He looked around to satisfy himself no one was checking him out and moved off in the direction of home.
He needed time to think. Time to come up with some damn solution that leave him alive and relatively in one piece. He took the dead womans packet of cigarettes from his pocket, took one and lit it. The smoke made him dizzy for a second but the feeling was good…fuck this he thought as he exhaled and drew on the cigarette again, fuck it all, there must be a way out of all this…..
He felt his phone vibrate. He looked a the screen. A message. From Eddie……..FUCK!
Say, for the sake of argument, this planet was a small first floor flat.
We’d paid a deposit when we first moved in and fully intended to keep the damn place spic and span.
However, as we moved in, we dropped a bottle of bleach on the hall carpet, bought a rug, and covered the resulting stain with it. Job done, so we forget the carpets ruined.
A few weeks later we clog the sink with some dodgy old stuff we couldn’t be bothered to bag and take down to the garbage cos it was raining……then decide we can live with a sink that takes forever to drain cos plumbers will only cost a fortune. Months pass, we redecorate, and do a bit of rewiring, not as good as it was, cos we thought we knew better……..
I kinda think you get where I’m going with this……. but the point is valid. We’ve trashed this planet and the reasons why are many, complex and often unfathomable, given we sit around on Sunday afternoons spouting how crap it is we’re fucking up the planet….yet it still continues cos, let’s face it, apathy rules..
So, tomorrow, we have to hand the flat back to the owner, but its got a fucked carpet, crappy plumbing, poor decorating and questionable rewiring…Yer reckon we gonna get our deposit back? Er, nope…………………
We think we own this world and of course we don’t. We are a tolerated life form that ultimately has, thank fuck, a finite life span…..to think elsewise is plain dumb…..Let’s look after this place like it was ours and hand it back better than when we found it………….
The first Frank knew that the little shit of a dog was on his trail was the ticking of the claws on the floor. He could hear it trying to build momentum on the shiny tiling and Frank did not want that dog anywhere near him. He hated dogs at the best of times and this one he had a special pot of loathing for.
Trinket snarled like a spoilt brat gaining on the hapless Frank who was torn between heading for the back door fire escape, or heading into the Gents toilet. He chose the back door figuring he could out pace that little ball of turd once in the back alley way.
As Frank ran down the dingy hallway the smell of the toilets caught his nose and he fleetingly wondered if the toilets were that bad,what the hell was the kitchen like? Trinket began to gain on Frank who had reached the back door and who was pushing the release bar as hard as possible. The thing had jammed and Frank shoved violently, cussing as he did so. As he noticed someone had scratched in the paintwork that,’Marcie did good blowjobs’ the door opened and Frank found himself out in the dawn sunshine. He blinked several times before running as fast as he could down the alley way.
Seconds later Trinket was standing in the doorway of the bar and grill barking fiercely. The creature failed to notice the door slamming back and squealed loudly as its tail was caught between dorr and frame….
Frank was unaware of what had happened as he turned into the main street but was smiling at the thought that that little fuck was obviously in pain…….
Technology, we all extol its virtues, and most of the time it’s fab, but, how much of the tech we use is potential junk?
Resale value of most items is poor. This is largely because manufacturers are so proficient at producing new goods. This drives down any chance of recouping anything like yer money back on goods you choose to sell. I know, I’ve tried.
The secondhand market is a fragile place, people are indoctrinated more and more into thinking ‘new’ is best. Regardless of the amount of folk who rattle on about recycling and saving the planet, a large percentage of the population will be found driving new cars, bicycles, using the latest ipads, fones whatever.
Who can blame them? New stuff is cool…even if half it isn’t as fast to boot up as it’s claimed, doesn’t do what it says in the ads, or leaves you frustrated and pissed at the prat who convinced you you wanted it in the shop.
No matter how much we all want to believe to the contrary, we are all so damn gullible, and we don’t even realise. Many now argue they couldn’t live without their mobile, yet up until about thirty years ago countless generations had wandered around the planet perfectly happy, possibly more so than anyone nowadays.
Tech is useful in so many ways but a lack of a power supply means all you have a large piece of plastic in yer pocket, in yer living room, or in yer car.
So, in reality it’s all junk,,,,,It has to be by definition.
Manufacturers produce equipment that, as far as they are concerned, is already ‘old hat’……..for us to assume otherwise is naive. The general public is now a champing seething ground of frenzied buyers who’ll buy the latest ‘something’ purely on the basis that it is, just that, the latest.
So, as Christmas looms, and the adverts start to appear on tv selling stuff, ask yerself this…..What the fuck am I buying it for? Cos I’m part of the feeding frenzy, or cos I truly need it?…..
Hell I aint a Saint, I buy stoopid stuff, but realise,no matter how much you think you’ve bought the latest bit of kit, you haven’t for next week it’ll be out dated and you’ll wanna buy it…..
Don’t perpetuate the cycle…………………………………tech nowadays is junk within a week.
As Frank rose from his seat he accidentally nudged the table so the cutlery chinked and the table legs scraped loudly on the terracotta tiled floor. The two teenage girls who were sitting next to him stifled giggles and glanced at each other, leaning in to share some secret joke, presumably at Franks expense.
Eddie was watching and that damn dog was still baring those little white bastard teeth. Frank now wished he had eaten his eggs, at least as a condemned man he would have had a last meal.
The door from the kitchen opened and the plump waitress Frank had thought looked mildly like the love child of Marilyn Munroe and John Malkovich entered the dining area carrying a tray of pancakes and maple syrup covered in ice cream. Chewing her now tasteless gum she yelled out,’Who ordered the number fifty seven?’…………
A middle aged couple replied with a muted acknowledgement and the waitress pushed passed Eddie. Trinket snarled at the waitress who berated Eddie about keeping his dog under control.
Frank meanwhile had slipped unnoticed from his table and was quietly heading for the toilets…..almost within door handle reach Eddie had caught sight of Frank and tutted. He set the little dog down and calmly said to it,’Go get him’………………….