Up selling suicide

 

Richard had entered the gun store to purchase his ticket out of this God forsaken world. He examined all the pistols on the wall, but didn’t know what he wanted.

‘Can I help you sir?’ asked the Shop keep.

‘I just want a pistol… just a cheap one,’ muttered Richard.

The Shop Keep raised his eye brows.

‘Oh I see… thinking of ending it all.’

‘Erm…’

‘No problem… so what kind of barrel do to you want?’

‘What?’

‘Yeah it depends on what you want: length, material, flavour…’

‘Wait when did guns come with flavour?’

‘Well you should enjoy your last shot right? So different barrels have different lengths to stop gagging and to fit into your mouth. The softness of the metal for your teeth, so you’re as comfortable as possible. Then different metals taste different.’

‘Why have you thought so much into this?’

‘All good business men have to think of products and add-ons.’

Richard was taken aback by the bluntness of the Shop keep.

‘So what if I don’t want metal to be the last taste in my mouth?’ he asked.

‘We have flavoured lotions and sprays for your gun barrel: strawberry, banana, pineapple and cherry,’ explained the Shop Keep.

‘And people actually buy this stuff?’

‘They buy it, but we don’t get much customer feedback… so it must be good. Plus I spread it on my toast once in a while.’

‘I’m starting to feel that if you can’t put a barrel in your mouth, maybe you shouldn’t kill yourself.’

‘Oh a bit homophobic, eh? Well we have the vagina attachment. Simply slide it into the barrel, spray a flavour on and press you lips onto it. You can eat pussy as you die. Well you’ll taste a lot of blood if you’re semi-conscious for a few seconds… so it isn’t that unrealistic if you’ve been a brave kind of lover.’

‘No way in fuck am I dying with a vagina gun okay… seriously how is this legal?’

‘Suicide is legal, and this doesn’t count as assisted suicide in the same way I can’t be prosecuted for homicide if you buy a gun and shoot someone.’

‘Maybe I should just hang myself.’

‘ You say that, the rope salesman going to give you similar things… velvet rope, fuzzy step ladder, rice paper suicide note and adult diapers.’

‘Adult diapers?’

‘Yeah you shit yourself when you die. Just gonna tell you that now, no dignity whatever way you go.’

Richard decided to leave the store and carry on with his life. Nothing he was ever going to face in his life would be worse than being stood in that conversation for a second longer.

Coming out

There was nerves back stage before the show was to start. It wasn’t too late to turn back now and call the whole thing off. No… he couldn’t, not now. He wanted to let the world know the truth. He was announced on stage by the host and he entered to a roar of cheers. He was Sebastian La Flo the hottest actor on the scene. He was famed for his homosexual roles and playing historic gay icons on TV and cinema. He was welcomed by Mary, the most popular TV talk host right now. He was sat down on the cream sofa and welcomed. They talked about the latest film he was in as the first openly gay doctor in the US. Then it wound down to the big announcement:

‘So you have something you wish to talk about outside your latest film,’ said Mary.

‘Yes,’ said Sebastian. ‘It’s been a long difficult decision, but I think the time has come to let the news go public. There has been a lot of speculation in the news and I’d rather get it all out in the open.’

With a deep breath he uttered the words: ‘I’m straight.’

The crowd cheered and applauded.

‘So how long have you known you were straight?’ asked Mary.

‘Well when I was a boy I didn’t have much interest in girls. Actually I thought they were yucky and throw rocks at them with the other boys. When I got to high school I started having attractions to women and I think I knew then I was straight.’

‘So how did your family react?’

‘My mother always knew I was straight… she’d take me to fashion shows and I would talk to the models. I showed no interest in musicals, dancing, Beyoncé… I just wanted to shoot toy guns and watch football. It took a while for my dad to accept it, but he’s very supportive now.’

‘How do you feel it will affect your career?’

‘Honestly I’m not sure if the world is ready for a straight equality hero yet… but I hope my fans will support me.’

‘Have they?’

‘It’s been mixed. Some names been thrown around, ‘ breeder’, ‘ Boring’ and ‘Christmas bauble.’

‘What is a Christmas bauble?’

‘Someone who is colourful on the outside while dull and hollow on the inside.’

‘That is really harsh.’

‘Yeah, but I just move on with it. I’m even founding the first Hetro-white support group.‘

‘So do you have a partner?’

‘Yeah I have a long term girlfriend… Jessica… and I want to move forward with her beside me. She has supported me throughout my career and I want to support her in her choices. So hopefully we’ll be having a family in the next few years and it can be in the public eye. I am not ashamed to say I love a woman.’

The audience roared with claps.

‘Thank you so much Sebastian,’ said Mary. ‘We’re going to take a short break. When we get back we meet Victoria a woman who was born… a woman.’

Does charity ever pay?

Since leaving University I’ve been in and out of work. I struggled to get a permanent job role, so I end up as a white collar mercenary. The issue is that I will probably be doing this for the next three years of my life until I’ve gained enough experience to be trusted for a full time position. Before my first job I did a large amount of voluntary work to help my CV and feel a bit useful. I did one year at an RSCPA charity shop, seven months at my local council and a bit data entry for a charity. I loved it and got a load of stories to tell from my days there.

Many people are now asking why people on job seekers and long term unemployment don’t do more voluntary work if nothing else up to ‘earn’ their pay. I loved doing my work, but I found that there were many traps in doing this work when it comes to applying for jobs. So here is my list of issues that arise when you have voluntary experience.

Getting (relevant) experience is very hard

 

I did a philosophy degree and I wanted to get a quick admin role before doing a Masters in either Philosophy or teachers. I couldn’t find one so I thought working in a super market chain would be easy. Shame that I had no experience and degree was more of a deterrent to the cause. My first role was working in a charity shop was just to show I could work a till and be a normal human being. The issue with working in a charity shop… stock. Most shops deal with orders and stock lists, something that just doesn’t apply to a charity shop. The work load is a tenth of what it should be as is the personality. I had no experience with irate customers. Let’s face it the guy who call you a ‘twat’ for no giving you a refund on a shirt in a charity shop can frankly piss off, but in place like Primark you take in on the chin. The point is to employers it’s the equivalent of someone who on neighbourhood watch wanting to walk into a police role. ‘Yeah it’s sort of like that… but no.’

 

You have no risk (so you get no reward and therefore no authority)

 

At my council job I was free to show up when I liked, take off holidays when I wanted and if I was sick just to forget about coming in. All my tasks were non-priority, milling exercises that didn’t really impact on the day to day activities. It took a month before I was given something reasonable and that was more out of necessity than convenience. The responsibilities you get are a moot point and nothing you say or do is going to change that. The truth is you can’t even access more courses or go for training because it takes funds away from permanent staff members. They won’t invest in you if they don’t plan on keeping you. You are just a ghost in the machine, existing yet immaterial to the team. This is not realistic to any work environment. You live without consequences, but the consequence of that is no stranger will trust you. If that was the case maybe the kid that’s played Call of Duty should go out on patrol in Iraq or we can leave agriculture in charge of the Farmville community. Unless your neck on the line, no one going to trust you. In a face off against someone with six months experience and year and half of voluntary… yeah screw of Mr Volunteer. Your golden halo does not get converted into cash.

 

You are not equal to the people who are paid to be there

 

At times you are a blessing to the employed staff. You can go on errands, help during busy hours, provide support or spare pair of hands or just be a wall to bounce off ideas. They become more your friends than your colleagues. That is a problem in itself. You see as you become friends you become more vocal about your frustrations about working without reward and being able to do a job that someone else just messed up. There was a girl who was hired to the communication department, though she couldn’t use email. I could have done that post, but they gave it someone less qualified. I discussed the matter with my manager, but nothing came of it. So when a work issue arose and ideas were suggested, even if my idea was better or I could have been more effective acting on it, the support had to go toward a staff member. You do not get a vote and you can’t be on the ballot. The best way to see is it is to imagine if you worked with a multi-millionaire in an office. They screw about when they’re bored and point out issues, but he’s completely secure because if he is asked to leave he’s lost nothing.  As a volunteer you chose to be there, but most people hate their job and do it because they have to. You remind them of that fact every day you’re there.

 

The job centre resents you for it

 

The British unemployment office remains one of the greatest enigmas of our life time. An entire building full of useless aphetic people who are trying to find other people jobs (while openly looking for a new job and telling you about it. Seriously the majority of recruiters hate their jobs and are trying to get the hell out of there. It is easier for them to think you’re just a lazy slob and dismiss you. So when you do voluntary work and show you’re capable of working it sort of points out they’re failing at their jobs. They have all these eager hardworking people that they can’t do shit with. They panic as they struggle to do the thing they should be doing like finding you a job, finding you an interview or being helpful in any given fucking way. If you don’t believe me, the government keeps ‘threating’ to make all people on job seeker benefits to do community work. It’s just to cover the arses of the ineffective system. When it’s compulsory it doesn’t sound like an achievement or someone showing initiative.  Most people already do it to break up the boredom, so it only pissed off everyone as it makes unemployment criminalised. In fact if you do too much they criticise you for not putting the same time and effort into job hunting. They can even pull you out a volunteer job you’re enjoying to do work experience somewhere as a form of slave labour (See Poundlandgate.)  In short tell them you’re doing it, but in the same way as your learning a language (it a lot more work than they think it is.)

 

It’s not all doom and gloom though

 

So am I saying volunteer work is for chums? No, it’s personally rewarding and just gets you away from day time TV shit or being an internet troll. It gave me something to say in interviews and made the gamble a recruitment agency would use my CV a bit better. What I’m saying is don’t be surprised if you feel like it’s going nowhere when you hand in CV’s. What needs to change is the employer’s attitude to people who do volunteer work and make laws that give people who work hard the fair opportunity as someone with similar yet paid experience. I would say a 2:3 ration would be fine (2 years paid=3 years volunteer) We have laws based on disability, race and even rehabilitating criminals, so why not give the good Samaritan a push up?

I am ready for the step?

 

I’m coming up to 25 soon and I’m single. I’ve been dipping into the horrors of online dating for about a year now. Needless to say there have been some interesting adventures: from traveling to Liverpool to meet a very eccentric girl to having to drink three hours of my life away on a girl who just wasn’t what she claimed to be. Now time getting on and there’s an option that I keep rejecting.

In general my type is average weight, height 5 foot or taller and generally anyone who is open minded and not thick as shit. One thing that I do make an acceptation for is women who already have kids from another relationship. So far I pretty much ignore women who have kids. My reasoning (right or wrong) are the following:

Some my friends would look down on me for it. To them I would be a sucker who was raising someone else’s kid while the real father burns his money on a good time. Worse I would probably have to deal with this guy on a weekly-monthly basis. If there relationship is poor then I would end up being sucked into a drama I really have no right to be part of.  Hell imagine being in a situation where he (evil ex) is in the right and my girlfriend is in the wrong… I have to pick sides and my nature is to support the rational one. I would basically become an emotional punching bag for shit I don’t want to be involved in.

Then how would the kids feel about it. I’m not replacing dad, but I’m sure they’ll feel like it. I can’t be bothered trying to win a battle because unless the father a serious head case, I am never going to be respected. While I have a lot of experience working with kids, if they don’t share the same interest with me then I don’t know what the hell to do. Just buy their respect? I can’t afford that.

Then there’s my personal need to have kids, my kids with my blood and genetics. I don’t know how I can honestly say now that I wouldn’t favour my kid against a child that’s not mine. That not fair on the children and it sure as hell would cause a rift with my partner and me.

Finally let’s say things don’t work out. I’ve bonded with the kids, they’ve bonded with me, but then I have to leave their lives forever. How much heart ache is that going to cause for everyone. Splitting up is bad enough as it is, but now there’s side causalities? It just seems to be a huge gamble to play that effect people who have no choice in the matter.

I don’t know if it’s a lack of maturity or life experience on my part. I’m not saying men shouldn’t date or marry women who have children from previous relationships. I just don’t know if there’s a point in my life when I’ll have to accept it as an option rather than being alone. I am too young to consider that as an option or should I have a change in mind set?  Maybe when you fall in love it doesn’t matter and it all slips into place. The trouble is love seems to be meant for other people.

The Return of Glassman

 

When Glassman returned to his flat, the lights were flickering. Sat on his chair was a stranger wearing a suit; he had a long moustache and in his hand held a brandy glass.

‘Hello Glassman,’ he said sipping his drink.

‘No,’ said Glassman pointing to the door he had just walked through.

‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

‘Don’t care, fuck off before this gets bloody.’

‘Now, now, we can’t be so rude.’

‘I fucking can, now you got three seconds before my windows turn into saw blades and slice you into pieces!’

The stranger continued to sip his drink.

‘Where did you get the brandy from? I don’t have brandy?’ asked Glassman.

‘My own personal supply,’ said the Stranger.

‘Who carries brandy around with them… wait I don’t care. Right screw it, say goodbye to your drink.’

Glassman flicked his wrist and the brandy glass shattered into pieces. The stranger got out from his seat and found another glass. He then unscrewed his finger tip and a stream of brandy poured from it.

‘Okay that’s something new,’ said Glassman.

‘I’ll brief Glassman, some of your old team mates have been captured… presumed dead,’ explained the Stranger.

‘Not my problem.’

‘There is no one who can stop him but…’

‘Not… my…problem…ass…hole…’

‘Don’t you care who ‘him’ is?’

‘No, I only care that there’s some brandy drinking squatter who refused to piss off!’

The glass shattered again. The Stranger then found a mug and refilled his drink.

‘The man in question is him,’ said the Stranger sipping his drink.

‘Him?’ asked Glassman.

‘Him.’

‘The rock band?’

‘No… Dr Acid your arch rival.’

Glassman shrugged his shoulders.

‘Dr Acid vs Glassman, the greatest clash if history,’ said the Stranger. ‘The man who could burn through all but glass, against the man who cuts all, but that which dissolves.’

‘Is that really the best description… like why not slash vs splash?’

‘You seriously don’t remember him?’

‘No, seriously I just don’t care. Look the last time I met an old arch enemy there was legal issues and a fucking mess of paperwork, vet bills, threats from PETA. I haven’t got time to chase this guy up.’

The stranger continued to sip his brandy.

‘Go home!’ shouted Glassman.

‘They need you Glassman, the world needs you,’ said the Stranger.

‘I don’t need anyone. I got a bar job and this flat… and other stuff so I’m doing okay.’

‘Just okay?’

‘Shut up!’

Glassman levitated the glass shards and formed a crossbow in his hand. He then shot a glass bolt into the Stranger. The Stranger smirked with the bolt in his chest.

‘Sorry my dear boy, but my body is actually a hard light hologram,’ he explained as he pulled out the blot.

‘So where’s the brandy going if it’s not hitting your stomach?’

‘Through my mouth, down my throat and into the chair I’m sat on,’ he said as he took another sip.

‘Stop pouring brandy all over my flat you dick hole! Jesus Christ can I go anywhere without some crazy person trying to fight me or waiting me to be a superhero. I went to buy milk yesterday and some guy dressed as a pink rabbit was swinging a bag of carrots around and throwing eggs at people. The Rabid Rabbit. I pushed him through the freezer section of the shop and placed four crates of booze on it until the police arrived. If I walk out my apartment now, I bet another wanker is going to harass the shit out of me. Even when I sleep, fucking Dream Walker ask to borrow money. Have you ever had a dream where a guy you know pesters you for money for eight hours? I have… I FUCKING HAVE!’

The Stranger looked at the pink faced superhero.

‘New deal, help us recover your old team mates and we make the King Ba-Boom lawsuit disappear. Deal?’ asked the Stranger.

‘Fine… just get out my flat before it gets any more ruined,’ mumbled Glassman.

‘Splendid, now for your team mate…’

‘No, I work solo.’

‘He’s already on his way.’

The floor began to shake and rumble and the floor cracked.

‘Oh for fuck sake no… not working with him.’

A drill pierced through the floor to real the squatted pot belly of The Burrower.

‘I’m back!’ shouted the Burrower.

‘He’s a villain, he doesn’t have any super powers, he’s grossly unfit for combat and he’s diabetic. Why the fuck would you hire him?’

‘We are an equal opportunities employer. He’s got the directions and all the paperwork to get you to Dr Acid location. Good luck Glassman and God speed.’

The Stranger then snapped his fingers and the side of the flat was demolished by a single blast. A rope ladder was thrown down from a helicopter and the Stranger flew off into the distance.

‘Why does no one ever use the fucking door?!’ screamed Glassman.

The fault in the plot

 

After reading a ‘Fault in our Stars’ there was a wide flooding of donations to help bring teenage cancer suffers to Amsterdam to live out their dreams of young love and fulfill their desires for culture and art. Two by two they stood with oxygen tanks, IV’s and wheelchairs. It was bitter sweet for their parents and the donors. They were sending children off to enjoy the last holiday of their lives. After a week away the teenagers came back rather different. They were more relaxed and smiled. Those that had struggled to keep food down were far hungrier and ate their meals with great success. Even the shy and quiet group members were now confident and vocal. It seemed to be a miracle for all those involved. The teenagers would meet up on a weekly bases and a new support came into existence. It was all too good to be true.

Let us consider the following: a group of hormonal teenagers on the brink of death, are dropped into the sex capital of Europe with open access to marijuana and drugs. How the fuck are they not coming back stoned and shagged out their brains. Where is the scene in that book where the pair eat a plate of hash brownies, turn the oxygen tank into a bong and take it in turns getting lap dances in the red light district? It so realistic until you realise that gaping black hole in the story.

Another joke you may of heard

 

A Muslim and a Jew are sat in a coffee shop as the old joke goes. They sit chatting about their lives and their plans for the next week. What on the telly and what the latest gossip. Their conversation was interrupted by a man with dynamite strapped to his chest. The noise is so loud and the light blinds their eyes that the pair can barely make the last words of the attacker: ORANGE!

In the aftermath, the pair had survived but many were not as lucky. They might be in pain, but at least they had each other.  Sharing the same ward they watched the news and tried to puzzle together what had happened. Why them, what had they done? Then reports come out, something about a response from Blues. Then the Yellows seek spoke out against it, but the Black try to calm everyone down before the Red demand blood.

‘It’s just pointless all this fighting,’ said the Jew. ‘People killing each other over their favourite colour.’

‘I know,’ replied the Muslim, ‘ It’s the collateral damage as well. Just leave everyone else out of it. No should be dying for a belief, let alone someone elses.’

‘Yeah, especially when Pink the best.’

The Muslim went quite.

‘What?’ asked the Jew.

‘Well I like Silver so what you just said…’

‘Wait you like silver?!’

A friendship comes to an end. Hell of a punch line.

We all grow up

An office life is hard to live as it is, but it’s more so when you were once famous. Even worse when it was as a children’s entertainer. No matter how much you work and try to change people’s opinion of you, they always fall back on the stuff you did when you were younger. Every new visitor and member of staff has the same dozen questions.  ‘Weren’t you on the telly?’ ‘Where’s all the gang all now.’ ‘Why are you working her, I thought you’d be loaded.’ It never stops. This was my fate. These days I go by the name Mr Trustweed, but you may know me as ‘Tinky Winky’. While being purple is more accepted than it used to be thanks to Dr Barney T. Dinosaur I would still get stares. My red handbag was swapped for a briefcase and a hat was to cover up my triangle antenna since I was not permitted to express my political views within the office. I had moved away from Tubbyland to an apartment within the city. I see no more rabbits as the ones I brought with me were mauled by dogs within the first few weeks. My diet had ruined my heart and liver, so I am on strict diet of Riveta and low sugar meals. Tubby toast and Tubby custard have nothing but artificial colours and sweeteners. It was a miserable existence. In meetings he would stand in front of his peers and project power points from his tummy. When he looked out the window he saw the sun still laughing, but now it was at him not with him. One night with a bottle in one hand and the phone in the other he considered ringing the others. He still had the numbers on his phone, but never made it to the last digit. Maybe it was better to let the others move on.

Glassman meets Captain Cautious

Glassman was sitting outside of his bar, enjoying a bit of the sunlight before a shadow cast over him. Stood in front of him was a man dressed in red costume, yellow cape and a large C in blue on his chest. His beard was thick and he had a creepy pony tail and pair of sunglasses on.

‘Is it already gay pride, I got to open up the bar late tonight?’ said Glassman.

‘I saw you were out in the sun without the correct protection,’ said the capped hero.

‘Who the hell are you?’

‘I am Captain Cautious! When I was young boy…’

‘Wait..wait…wait. Can we have the abridged version of your origin story.’

‘Well I feel into a slip hazard machine… they make wet floor signs and stuff. It exploded and then I was bitten by a safety inspector who had just finished off at the nuclear power plant/ genetic mutation clinic. It gave the ability to spot danger and the correct way to tackle it. For example.’

Captain Caution rubbed his hands together and materialised a tube of sun cream.

‘Now you’re prevented from skin cancer and sun burn,’ he said.

‘Great now piss off…’ muttered Glassman.

‘No wait I need your help.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m making a new super hero team to battle against the evil…’

‘Pass.’

‘But you haven’t even heard…’

‘Pass.’

‘But we got all sorts of heroes… Captain Giblets, he is totally fearless and expendable.’

‘That doesn’t sound promising… he just sounds like a nice bullet sponge.’

‘Then we have The Nihilistic Vegetarian, he doesn’t believe in reality so he can walk through walls and plays by no one’s rules. A total badass…’

‘But he also believes in animals right so isn’t that a contradiction.’

‘If you point that out he loses all his powers… for like a week.’

Glassman stared at the colourful would be hero.

‘Anything else before I go back inside?’ asked Glassman.

‘We have girl too… Toxcina,’ said Captain Cautious.

‘She’s a villain… she poisoned three orphanages last month.’

‘It’s kind of a deal, she’s hiding in our place until the heat goes down in exchange for being part of the team.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘56 Park Avenue.’

‘So you’re actually hiding a wanted criminal, in your apartment?’

Captain Cautious was flummoxed. Glassman then stole his sunglasses and changed to the lenses into a spike.

‘That looks rather sharp,’ said Captain Cautious, ‘you might hurt someone.’

‘I intend to,’ said Glassman look at the caped crusader. ‘Suggest you run.’

‘Running is a trip hazard waiting to happen.’

‘5…4…3…2…’

With cape fluttering in the air, Captain Cautious was chased down the street by a disgruntled Glassman.