An entirely un - GF related story.

[neon_git]

Well, it's about 2:45 in the morning, and the guy in the room next to me is playinhg excessivley loud music.

 

Since I couldn't sleep I thought I'd do something productive. This is the result.

 

And yes, I do owe a lot to Christopher Morris.

 

 

 

 

I was on my way to sneak quietly into a gutter and die.

 

I'd hoped I wouldn't meet anyone I knew, although secretly, I'd hoped that I would.

 

My superficial hopes were dashed when I walked into someone from behind. I hadn't been looking where I was going because i was pretending to look in shop windows as I walked; but really I had been looking at my own pathetic reflection, listing all the things I hated about my appearance.

 

The back I had walked into belonged to a man I had gone to school with. He had gone on to become very successful, whilst i had spent my time since then becoming increasingly scared by the shapes made by clouds. His name eluded me, but apparently the situation was not reversed, because when he turned around, he greeted me using mine.

 

“Hey Paul, it's Stephen. We went to school together, how are you?”

 

I didn't really know the answer to his question. I would have asked him if he could help me out by telling me the answer, but i don't like getting other people to do my dirty work for me.

 

“Fine.” I mumbled.

 

There was a short silence, but it was long enough to become uncomfortable. I think that I was supposed to say something, but I didn't know what so I kept quiet. Social interaction had always remained a mystery to me; but then so had taps, so i didn't think it was anything worth worrying about.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

I could already see the clarity of resentment forming in his eyes. I started blinking so that I'd only have to see it half as much.

 

“I'm scouting out gutters.” I replied.

 

Stephen laughed nervously and then looked confused.

 

“Was that he joke?” he asked.

 

Again, I wasn't sure about the answer. Upon reflection, I don't think that there was a joke, but at the time, I'd concluded that I must have made a joke, I just hadn't heard it.

 

The strobing affect of constantly blinking my eyes was giving me a headache and I was worried about giving myself an epileptic fit. I decided that the best way to avoid Stephen's contemptuous gaze was to stare at the ground. It was made of red bricks. It reminded me of a painting I once saw in an art gallery that I had been wondering around, whilst I had been trying to keep warm. I mentioned this to Stephen, and soon after he told me he had an urgent appointment of a nondescript nature. I was relieved because talking to people makes me nauseous and I had to find somewhere to be sick.

 

Stephen walked away hurriedly, but after a couple of steps he stopped and turned around again. He looked terribly sad suddenly.

“Look, can I give you a lift somewhere?” he said.

 

“Could you take me to the park please?” I answered.

 

I had been out for 4 nights in a row and I still hadn't found any quiet gutters worth dying in. I'd oped to go to the park because it was getting dark and I thought that I may be able to find some youths interested in kicking me to death.

 

Having wrung out my stomach, I went in search of the youths. They were easy enough to find, but they didn't seem very responsive to my proposal. They said that they could kick me to death, but only if I bribed them with cigarettes and alcohol. Otherwise they would just kick the **** out of me.

 

I didn't have any cigarettes or alcohol.

 

I must have fallen asleep a shortly afterwards, because when I woke up it was pitch black and the people were gone. I felt like a boxer who'd been paralyzed; but due to contractual reasons still had to fight, and had just done 9 rounds with Tyson.

 

I walked home berating myself for not dying in a gutter like I was supposed to.

 

“Maybe tomorrow.” I told myself.

 

But I didn't believe me, I always said that.

[neon_git]

ok, so it's been about a week, and *nobody* has posted any comments about the story.

 

i guess if you haven't got anything nice to say, you just say nothing at all ...

 

*sobs in the corner*

[Necroman]

It is a stupid story.That is all.

But...that better not be about what I was talkin' 'bout 'cause I know how to make voodoo dols without the ingredients...

I used to feel that way, about a year ago. Now instead of wasting my time, I'm wasteing others'.

[Sallim]

For some minutes I didnt realized that this was just a story ^_^

 

Its quite nice.

 

I missed the thread like many threads here.... sorry

[VampireNaomi]

Oh, I forgot! I actually saw this thread here, but didn't have time to read the story back then. I wa supposed to come back later, but somehow it was all wiped from my mind. Sorry.

 

This was a very strong story. I think I lost some of the meaning since I don't know what "gutter" means and I don't have a English-Finnish dictionary at hand right now.

 

But that is not the story's fault, so I'll just ask how you managed to find such a powerful subject and handle it so well?

[neon_git]

that better not be about what I was talkin' 'bout 'cause I know how to make voodoo dols without the ingredients...

 

um ... you do that.

 

 

 

 

Thanks Sallim for your kind words, all is forgiven.

 

 

 

 

 

And now the hard one:

 

I'll just ask how you managed to find such a powerful subject and handle it so well?

 

well, i've always found that the best way to deal with serious issues is to try and make a comedy piece out of it. One of my heros is Christopher Morris - you can download some of his radio work from here - he (mostly) always makes a serious point with his comedy, and shows the absurdity of modern life. basically i just copied his style and wrote a story about how we are made to feel worthless by the popular media(celebrity magazines etc) and how things like that would affect those least able to deal with it.

 

i'd also like to say, if you don't understand some of it don't worry - some of the sentances are deliberately hard to follow (sorry).