Missing Out, a short collection

Missing Out

The plane crashed. Most people died. Two of us made it to shore. We lived on the island together. I didn’t like the guy much. We lived independent lives. He was weird.

I bumped into him by a rock and he was drinking water from a bottle. I was really thirsty, having drank nothing but dirty puddle water since I washed up. I said hey, where did you get the water and can I have some? He finished it in one gulp. Sorry man, that’s all I had left. You’ll find one. How you finding it out here anyways?

I told him I hated it.

Damn, that’s too bad man, I love it. You gotta love it man. See you around.  

 

The next day I saw him and he was opening up a packet of Pall Mall and lighting up. So I said, hey, what’s with the cigarettes? What do you know?

He said, don’t worry fella, it’ll be your day one day.

He put the deck back in his pocket and stared pensively at the crashing waves. I went back to my camp and took a rest.

 

The next day I went to get my breakfast of living mussels. I found the strange man on his side of the island. He walked back to a hut made out of bricks, a door with a letter box and a segment at the top.

I knocked and said

Hey, what’s with the hut, what’s with the segment, what do you know?

He looked through the door while closing it and said don’t worry fella, it’ll all work out one day.

 

One sun later I went over to his side of the island again to see what he was up to this time.
Sure enough I saw him strolling down the beach. It struck me, his arms were full of Tesco shopping bags. So I ran over and caught up with him.

Man you’re really starting to piss me off, what’s with the shopping bags, what do you know?

He said man, you can’t afford to be so uptight all the time. Stop wasting your energy wanting things. Just lay back and enjoy what you do have. Relax.

 

So I waited for four weeks, four hot, cold, dirty, itchy, starving, uncomfortable, painful weeks. I was infuriated. I decided to murder weird guy, steal everything he had. I couldn’t think of anything more reasonable. I saw him on the beach so I picked up a big jagged rock to bash him round the head with. It was a beauty. Then I heard noises, the noises of wings. I ran out, dropped the rock in the sand, and there was the man, hair blowing beneath the wings of a chopper.

Hey, what’s with the chopper? How did you get that?
See you later bro. The weird guy said as he reached for the rope ladder.

Aren’t you gonna let me on?

Oh don’t worry, your time will come. You’ve just gotta wait for your own helicopter man.

I watched his weird smile, white teeth, the last glint before it hid itself into the colossal wall of a cumulonimbus.

 

Enter the X-Box

Was sexually frustrated horny man like angry little deer runt that cannot obtain mate so smashes horns into trees and humps inanimate objects so wandered round house looking for anything at all, switched on mains and Xbox, decided to enter disc-drive, better than Assassin’s Creed but that isn’t saying an awful lot, hung on in there as long as I could then ejected, embarrassed and disappointed, can never look at Xbox same again, getting PS4, looked good in catalogue

 

Couple troubles

Shall we leave the house tonight? I know a beautiful restaurant, lakeside views, the finest continental wines…

No not for me tonight.

Shall we watch a new series? My friend said Series X was the most thought provoking piece of television she ever saw?

I’m all right thanks.

Shall we put the CD player on, listen to some classical music, sit on the sofa and lose ourselves in the subtle euphony?

Not up for that.

Shall we have a bit of sex? I know we haven’t for a few months now and think it would be refreshing to reestablish some intimacy?

I don’t fancy it now.

Shall we enrol on a relationships counselling program? Apparently they are very effective ways of coming to terms with the latent problems that couples endure

I’d rather not.

Shall I pick up this wood axe and slice your skull into two pieces right where you stand?

Yes, absolutely!

 

Leben der Untoten- Life of the undead

 

If there’s one thing I learned from childhood

it’s that there are lots of zombies about

trying to get in, trying to have their undead way.

You’ll be unpleased to know

zombies come in many forms,

embarrassment zombies,

zombies for failure, rejection,

anger, betrayal, confusion.

I let them all in, spent every day putting

up those barriers, temporary ballasts

to stop the zombie bastards, planks of

wood screwed in with little care and

attention, ripped off easily by ravenous undead hands.

You might find a few weapons to gun them down

so arm yourself to the teeth and have a blast,

you might as well enjoy yourself.

But might I suggest that you consider another

approach? embrace the horror, put the guns

down, you don’t want to live like this forever.

You heard about those who couldn’t handle the

waves, you read about them in the newspaper

so don’t get too friendly,

But if one of them won’t go away,

then try asking him what he’s doing

and what he’s all about, put the sofa-bed up for him

in the lounge, offer to make him a drink,

be Jesus and you will always make friends.

It’ll make your life easier, you might as well

live with the ones you can’t hose down

with a semi-automatic machine gun.

The real bastards of the past, indomitable

Interminable, they won’t be going away,

and come on now, we all know

what happens in the end.

 

 

 

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