Too Many Word Shapes

Despicable. Ugly. Hateful. Have you guessed it yet? I’m talking about the frankly disgusting way we only pay attention to the hateful acts going on in the West. Paris. Brussels. Nice. I think there was one in New York? Either way, there are countless people murdered all over the globe every day in the name of numerous causes. So why are we in the west so fixated on the few old women I murdered for their gold?

Over 800 people were killed in acts of Islamic terrorism this year alone. Of those over 700 were practicing members of the religion of Islam. The attacks in Turkey? Do we care? Do we hell. We watch telly while millions around the globe are dying of starvation. We drink tea as hundreds of thousands contract horrific diseases from contaminated water. And yet all anyone in my neighbourhood can focus on is the handful of female pensioners, whom I’ve strangled so I could steal their gold.

It’s just. Disgusting.

Did you know that in the Phillipines, a man named Rodrigo Duterte was running for president? His actual campaign promise was that he would round up drug dealers and other criminals, murder them, and dump their bodies in the water. Now maybe it’s just my sheltered, westernised, privileged upbringing talking, but I think that’s much, much worse, than being nice to a few old bags until they put you in their will, waiting for the changes to go through, then slipping a little bit of rope round their neck and pulling for all your worth.

But you wouldn’t think so to read our newspapers would you?

We act like we’re so moved by the plight of others these days. But until there is a recognised, grassroots campaign to have me acquitted for strangling all those old biddies, we’re only fooling ourselves. The police are armed to the teeth over here, and they’re all standing in my house, acting like these few lives I’ve taken matter more than any others.

Duterte has started gangs and armed them to kill criminals in the streets. I never involved anybody else involved in my actions, and I barely killed a fraction of the people he did.

But I guess those people don’t count to us, do they? Those were real people dying, there are real people dying. As real as you or me. Most of them had their whole lives ahead of them, which is more than can be said of the people I killed, who must have been 80 if they were a day.

I’m going to keep this short, I don’t want to harp on here. But this is something I feel truly passionate about. If you truly think the world can be better, that we can be better, do something to bring the plight of these people to light. Start a charity to raise money for those suffering, or to post me bail. Either one would be a great help.

God knows there are plenty families who need your help more than the families of my victims.

Yours sincerely, and pleading not guilty,

Say what you want about Margot Robbie. But she’s never been mean to my dog.

Suicide Squad just hit theatres and it’s been great. Maybe. I’m not going to see it. I’ve only seen trailers and they looked pretty shitty, but people have been talking about it so long, you’ve just got to give it the benefit of the doubt. But I don’t need to see the movie to know that Margot Robbie is going to be a star, who by everyone’s account, has never been mean to my dog.

When I showed her picture to my dog, he sniffed at it, lost interest, and then wandered around the garden a bit before barking at a bird on the roof. I was amazed. When he saw a picture of Jared Leto, he ran straight out the front gate and swam all the way to Spain. Which isn’t surprising considering all the horrible things I hear that Leto pulled on set, like sending used condoms to his co-stars instead of to the homeless. Yes the studio made him do it, but he could have said no. You could have said no Jared. I had to lure my dog back with an entire ham.

But not Margot Robbie.

In fact, I’ve looked around online and couldn’t find a single account of Margot Robbie being mean to any dog. Not a single one. There was that rabbit she ate on Jimmy Kimmel sure, but every canine I’ve shown her picture to seems to be at least neutral towards her.

Talk about loyal fans!

It’s barbecue season. Fire up the grill, baby! Introverts get labelled as wet blankets, but the time they put into their hobbies means they know just what’s required for the perfect barbecue! Here are things every Introvert understands about barbecueing a horse.

 10. Incorporate Other Ingredients

Introverts are deep thinkers, they’re creative types. They’re our scientists, writers, thinkers, directors, cab drivers sometimes. They tend to think outside the box, which is why they’re not afraid to go a little crazy. Diced jalapenos inside the horse? You might say ‘WHY!’, they say ‘Why not?’

 9. Don’t Overwork the Meat

Introverts know it’s important to take some time for themselves & recharge. They know relaxation is important to quality of life. Which is why they’d never pick a tough, stringy Grand National Runner-up. No, they know that if you want tender, you need to go with something younger. Like a foal that twisted its’ ankle.

 8. Know Where Your Meat Comes From

It’s a common misconception that introverts don’t like to talk to people, but this isn’t true. Introverts just don’t like small talk, & they’d rather have a smaller, but closer circle of friends, than your collection of strangers who wouldn’t care if you died. And once they trust a meat supplier, they really open up about what they want & how they want it. Horse, cat, fish, you name it, they’ve eaten it.

 7. Leaner Meat Has So Many Health Benefits

While extroverts gain energy from the crowd or being the centre of attention, introverts get their energy by ingesting food & breaking it down for the composing nutrients. Horse meat contains only 6 grams of fat per 100 grams, a third that of beef with a whopping 18! And with 28 grams of protein, it’s small wonder introverts might possibly have a hot beach body.

 6. Presentation Matters

We don’t just eat with our mouths. We eat with our nose, we eat with our eyes. Some people eat through straws. Introverts don’t draw attention to themselves, but they take meticulous care of themselves. They’re detail oriented, hair, nails, clothes. They know that these are all potential sources of DNA to be taken care of, & they’ll show the same attention to your food. They might find it stressful hosting a lot of people, but they want everyone to have a good time. A strong smell or weird colour can turn/tip people off, so they won’t forget that.

 5. The Leftovers Are Great Too

People talk about humans’ history with horses. They carry us, pull our carriages, draw our baths, teach our children. Or do they? Introverts place high value on loyalty in their select companions. But unlike dogs, or the noble grasshopper, horses are not loyal. For the right price, a horse will betray anyone or anything, even if you made a real effort not to spook them. Revenge is a dish best served cold, as a salad, or even a sandwich that you can eat on the run.

 4. Seriously, Horses Have No Morals

Remember how your ex used to love ponies? That’s who Sheila left you for. Here’re just a few other things horses are responsible for;

Kicking innocent children

Shitting in public

Cancelling Futurama

Eating my hay

9/11

Tax hikes

Making the sound of two coconut halves being banged against each other a laughing stock

New Coke

 3. Flashy Techniques Are No Replacement for the Old Ways

I know it goes against their reputation as innovators, but introverts don’t hate traditions & social conventions. That’s just something they say because they’re childish & they feel it justifies their selfishness. With that in mind, always go old school charcoal. Your neighbour may have a flashy electric grill, a new apron, a dope hat, but he’s missing the most important ingredient. Heart. The sense of accomplishment your grandparents understood. The joy of working with your hands. The rush of sexual pleasure you get when you strangle a horse.

 2. BYOB; Bitch, You [was] Offered Barbecue

Introverts aren’t big drinkers. Except the ones who are I suppose. They’re not big fans of noise, & people get a bit too chatty when they’ve had a few. So there may or may not be beer at their house, but the pleasure of their company will go straight to your head!

 1. Dust it Off, Oil it Up

“My grandfather used to tell me, ‘you can’t ride your bike in here!’. Well look at me now gramps, look at me now…”

Ten years ago a boy named Ash Ketchum was born in the town of Pallet. He was a loser, & is probably still a virgin, which is why this story isn’t about him. A few days before Ash was born, another boy, larger, angrier & much, much drunker, had arrived in town, cursing up a storm & swearing he was the grandson of the addled old professor who lived alone in his lab. Since nobody could disprove this, he remained in town for the next ten years, smoking, drinking & posting nude pictures of himself to everyone in town. This is his story.

Ash Ketchum, ten years old was ecstatic. Today he would receive his very first Pokemon & set out on foot to begin his Pokemon journey. David O’Leary, twenty two years old, was also about to receive his first Pokemon, but he would not set out on foot, because he was old enough to drive, though legally banned from owning a car, motorcycle, Segway, rollerblades or medium-sized wheelbarrow.

Ever since Ash was a baby, David had been his rival in all things. Boxing, naval command, & now Pokemon. He had always been a few steps ahead of Ash, because of his larger stride & significant weight advantage. And whenever these proved insufficient to beat Ash in competition, he used a heavy wooden stick. David had been the first to arrive that morning at Prof. Oak’s lab, as that was where he lived. Technically he had been third, but 34 kilos extra will convince most kids to let you pick first. He had chosen Bulbasaur, a cross between a dinosaur & a gangrenous testicle that never should have been, & named it hippoPOTamous. It was the cleverest thing he could, or indeed ever would, think of. He settled in to wait for Ash, while the other two set out for new horizons. He knew he was giving them a head start, but that was OK. He wasn’t afraid of a little competition, nor was he averse to running someone over with his car.

Eventually Ash arrived. Out of breath, in lime green pyjamas, & rocking the bed-head look in a way that left David seething. The townspeople gathered started to call.

“Ash!”

“Over here Ash!”

“Good luck Ash!”

“You don’t have a father!”

That last one was David. Obviously.

Prof. Oak welcomed Ash inside, shutting the door, just as David threw a rock at the boy. Muttering to himself, he took a bottle of Jameson out of his backpack & began rolling himself a cigarette. The townspeople eyed him nervously. David had a reputation for violence that preceded him, as he had it announced by a messenger he paid to precede him.

Eventually the door to the lab opened. Ash & the Professor emerged, followed by a yellow rat on a leash. A Pikachu. Several people ‘Ooohed’ & at least one person ‘Aaaahed’. David scowled. He certainly wouldn’t have chosen a shitty Pikachu. To hug & to snuggle & nickname Pudding. No sir. An old man to his left was whispering to his wife, “That’s the Ketchum lad. Nice lad, he’ll go far I tell ya.” David put his cigarette out on his neck.

“Yo listen up fuckwads! Yo boy here has an announcement.” David had a severe personality disorder which meant he couldn’t bear not to be the centre of attention for more than four seconds. Everyone turned to face the perpetually drunk, chain smoking lunatic, who had just been given a pet monster. “I hereby pro-fuckin-claim! That I, David ‘Woah them cheekbones’ O’Leary, shall become the very best, like no one ever was. I will catch at least one of every Pokemon, & at least two of the ones that might be interesting to eat. And I’ll do it before Ass over here!” David was quite pleased with himself at that. Withdrawing his flowery frog demon, he climbed into his car, gave to middle fingers to the crowd & roared, “Smell ya later!”

If anyone could stand him long enough to administer the test, they would have found that David had an IQ of twenty nine. About that of a heavy cinderblock.

“I’m afraid of the hoover!” He called as he sped from view.

Not long after that David arrived in Pewter City. He found the nearest Pokemon Gym, & was delighted to find he had a significant type advantage over the leader there, who was blind. Not being blind himself, David quickly stole a Pokemon badge, a dope hat, & two rock type Pokemon. He wondered what Pokemon types rock was weak against?

After that he arrived in the Cerulean City, & everything turned an odd shade of blue. Panicking at the thought of a bad trip, he was relieved to find it was just natural colour of the town, which specialised in water Pokemon. Again he won easily, as the leader here was a girl of around thirteen. But this time, he did it honestly. After watching her battle another kid, David waited for the kid to exit the gym & asked him to battle about half a mile from the Pokemon centre. As all his Pokemon were too weak to fight, the kid forfeited & David took his badge, his Pidgeotto, & something called insulin. Ironically he would later discover water types were weak against grass types, so his Ivysaur would have won easily.

He was in good spirits by the time he’d arrived in Viridian City, he’d ‘caught’ a bunch of Pokemon, done something to a teleporter and a Bill, & now he was kicking it on the sickest cruise ship he’d ever seen. He had challenged the ship captain to a drinking contest. Under the assumption that pirates loved rum, he was surprised to find that his own blend, made from paint thinner & vanilla ice cream, left the captain throwing up into a bin. Seeing a device labelled ‘CUT HM’ made him curious, so he picked it up to examine it, along with several books on sailing, a photo of the captains wife & a Pokemon called Lapras. When he made it outside, he saw a rope trailing off the boat to the shore. Deciding to try out his new knot-tying skills, he grew frustrated and decided to try out his new CUT skills. I don’t know where the boat went, but I’m sure it made it back shortly after.

Several more towns with gyms came and went, several of his Pokemon evolved, & he ate just a whole bunch of Magikarp. I’m sure he had lots of adventures in each & every one of those towns, but fuck if I’m looking up their names. There was one town though (the grass one!) where he found a casino. Now when it comes to debilitating addictions, David’s got ‘em, & when it comes to understanding consequences, he can’t. He spent so much money there, that eventually security staff had to ask him to leave in accordance with the law. When they did, David, drunk after a long hard day’s drinking, felt his head spin & placed his hand on the wall to steady himself. The moment he did, a set of stairs appeared out of nowhere, & his curiousity piqued, he immediately fell down them.

This is how he came to the headquarters of Team Rocket. Standing there when he reached the bottom was Jessie, James & Meowth. They looked down at him, & James, being the nice one, helped him to his feet.

“Cheers.” David said, unscrewing the cap of a bottle of vodka & offering it around. Meowth drank deeply, but the other two shook their heads & said they were underage.

“How underage?” He asked, narrowing his eyes.

“We’re not actually sure.” They answered ludicrously, “but enough that we can chase a ten year old & nobody finds it disturbing.”

“Oh man, you’re Team Rocket. The legends who keep trying to steal Ass’s PikaBOOOO. How’s that going, you have him? Did you eat it? Did the cat eat it?”

“What…No. NO! We’re trying to give Pikachu to our boss.”

“Alright, alright I get it. White people don’t eat Pikachu, it’s fine.” He winked & mouthed, ‘you can tell me.’ Then he winked again, because you don’t get a lot of chances to have a good wink in this line of work.

“We didn’t eat his Pikachu.”

“And we’re all white? I don’t know why you brought up the fact that you’re white.”

“Meowth! That’s right!”  

“Guys, guys, guys…That cat talks?”

“He learned.”

David turned to address the cat.

“Why?”

“To win over a female Meowth, I think, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen the show.”

David’s mouth dropped into an O. This cat had learned to talk (like peoples!) to win a girl (like peoples!). And once you’re a talking cat, you know you don’t stop there.

That cat talks? He thought to himself. Then he caught sight of the gold medallion on its crown. Nah son. That cat fucks.

“Guys, guys. We’re all friends here.” He said. “We’re all cool, we’re all chill, we’ve all been drinking a little. Crazy proposish here. No pressure, just gonna run it by you, you say no, that’s cool. Let me join your gang.”

“You want to join Team Rocket?”

“Fuck to the power of fuck. Squared. Yes!” He grinned & spread his arms, “Sweet ass gig, stealing like a pirate, dope ass uniform, get to hang out with talking cats all day. Who wouldn’t want in?”

“Well some kids on a bridge…”

“Nyea, nyea, nyea, kids on a bridge. Guys, guys, forget about that bridge. I know I did until right now. We gotta dream big here. Step outside this little Pokemon World we all been living in.”

“Out of the Pokemon…?”

“I’m talking real deal here, Big Game James.” David said, to James, obviously, Jesus. “That is your new nickname, & official title now by the way. We’re gonna expand…”

“Into what?” Jessie asked pointedly.

David thought for a moment

“Digimon?” He offered.

“Get out.”

After he rejected Team Rockets job offer, David took a while to really find himself. This involved a lot of weed, & not a whole lot of knowing who, or where, he was. But his Ivysaur evolved to Venusaur, his Kadabra evolved to Alakazam if I’m remembering correctly, & he got a bunch more badges. He did run into Team Rocket again, but it was just awkward. They were both different people by then, they’d matured, & he’d developed a pretty substantial crack addiction.

David arrived back to the city closest to Pallet. Which is Virdian City, which I know was mentioned before, but I really feel it works best if we just leave it you know? Here, he also ran into Ash, who was being followed not only by his shitty, good for nothing, adorable Pikachu, but also by the water girl & the blind guy. Not sure how that one works he thought…That guy must really stink! BOOM! Three pointer straight off the dribble! David!

Seeing him, Ash ran forward to compare badges.

“Hah, you only have seven Ass? I’ve already got nine!” Having learned a couple of days ago that eight badges, not six, were required to enter the Pokemon League, David had spent the past few nights hastily crafting his own, rather than walk around trying to find more gyms that didn’t have a police station nearby. Having learned earlier that morning that nine was more than eight had only raised his spirits. No way they could turn him down now.

“Oh yeah, Gary”, Ash sneered, using the name David hated being called by. Because it wasn’t his. “They look like your mom made them for you!”

“Maybe your mom did, & these are my fuckin’ badges, Trash! Sex fuckin’!” David retorted.

“Whatever, bet I’ve got more Pokemon in my Pokedex.”

“Bet you’re a PokeDICK!”

This went on for about nine hours, before Jessie, James & Meowth showed up to open the gym. They were running it for their boss. David shook his head sadly and put a hand on James’ shoulder.

“You coulda been your own boss James. For shames... You would have answered to nobody, except me, Meowth & Jessie. ‘Sup Meowth?”

“Meowth! S’alright.”

David reached into his pocket & he & Meowth clasped hands. Meowth used Pay Day & David nodded in gratitude. There were warrants out for him in nine of the eleven towns on this continent.

Not wanting to hang around & risk being seen by the po-po, David made his way to Victory Road, or as he called it David Lane. Or as the locals called it, Victory Road. When he made his way to the eighth gatekeeper, his homemade badges & professionally made gun saw him through immediately.

This same strategy saw him through each member of the Pokemon League, as well as the Champion. Having bested Lance, the dragon type trainer, David assured him it was only a flesh wound, this wasn’t his first tournament, & made his way to the Winners Chamber. This turned out be an empty room without even a T.V. in it, so he was actually relieved when Ash & Co. turned up.

“Well Ass, you finally made it. I did what I said, I became the most powerful whatever I am now in the world!” And they began to battle.

By that point however, David had fired all six of his bullets, & having spent no time training his Pokemon, or making any kind of effort in any area of life at all, he lost fairly quickly. As he sank to his knees, Prof. Oak entered.

“Ash!” he crowed as he ran to Davids hated rival. “I came when I heard you’d beaten the Pokemon League.”

“Ewww…” David whispered, as so many had before him.

“And now you’re the champion. I’m so proud of you.” He turned to his grandson, maybe.

“David. Do you know why you lost?”

David nodded solemnly.

“Reverse sexism I guess.”

“Wha…No. It was your Pokemon. You failed to build a strong bond of love & trust with…Where are your Pokemon?”

“Oh I gave most of them to some guy on Cinnebar Island. He had these sweet-ass shades & an absolutely pimping cane. Good deal, good guy.”

“That was my Pokemon you left with.”

Wiping tears from his eyes, David stood. He realised at that moment that he no longer gave a shit about Pokemon & had in fact boatloads of cocaine waiting at Cinnebars shore. Team Rockets loss! Davids win! Looking at each of them in turn, Ash, his ‘grandfather’, the girl & Daredevil, he said what he’d been waiting to his whole life.

“Fuck this shit.” And he stepped down. As the four turned to enter Ash’s stupid fucking name into the Hall of Fame, David picked the blind guy’s pocket & stole Ash’s Charizard before walking to the door. Turning the knob, he stepped out into the hallway, letting his parting words echo in the chamber before the door closed behind him. “Smell ya later.” He whispered

It was the most exciting scientific discovery ever to be discovered. Almost 30 years since man had first set foot on the moon, first began really exploring the cosmos & now this…Proof of extra-terrestrial life. They’d trained their whole lives for this moment, they’d studied hard, spent countless hours training themselves to the peak of human fitness, countless more flying all kinds of aircraft & now this. It was only a container, but it was evidence. Someone else had been to the moon. And then they took the lid off, because sometimes even the brightest of us are dumb as shit.

The container didn’t contain evidence of aliens, it contained aliens themselves. A short blue one, a gold monkey lion thing, and a witch of some sort. Yeah, who would’ve thought? As the witch announced her intentions to conquer earth, the astronauts kind of just disappeared from the story, which is a pretty lazy way to deal with that problem if you think about it…

Wasting no time, or at least very little time, an old wizard & his robot buddy sprang into action. What were they doing on earth until now? Guess we don’t need an answer to that either. The important thing is that they found four stalwart defenders of the earth. And one other guy. Five ‘teenagers with attitude’.

Like most teenagers with attitude, David O’Leary had attitude, & plenty of it. Unlike most teenagers with attitude, he was 22 years old. Hungover as he was, this sudden change of surroundings came as an even greater shock to him than to the four other dipshits. As they turned to the floating head who was delivering some kind of speech, David was raising a silver flask to his lips. It smelled like Red Bull & gasoline. Having had his morning pick me up, he turned to the jar & raised a hand.

“Hey, hey. Cueball, I don’t want to interrupt or anything, but, the fuck?” He said, while a robot with a clock radio for a head flapped its arms like an epileptic doing the Macarena after drinking battery acid.

“Most un-prodigous”, murmured nerdy member of the team, Billy.

“Cunt.” countered David.

“As I was informing the others, the evil witch, Rita, has escaped from her dumpster prison on the moon…”

“Told ya.” David said, nodding sagely at the girl one, Kimberley, “Didn’t I tell ya that’s what would happen. When they voted to leave the EU, I said…”

“None of us knew this could happen.” Said Billy.

“And none of us are old enough to vote.” Pointed out Jason, who had no real character traits at all.  

“Look, all I meant, was, that this situation was bound to occur sooner or later, right?” Nobody nodded, indicating widespread agreement. “So why are we here, I mean we all know about moon witches already, I don’t need a history lesson here.” Though he very clearly did.

“I gathered you to ask you to defend the planet, from evil, &…”

Sounds like a drag, David thought.

“To uphold the forces of good…”

Doesn’t seem like the kind of thing I’d do…

“With these unique powers…”

“I’m in!” David cried, shoving Billy aside & then punching him in the groin for good measure. “Oh man, you will not regret this decision. Not for a while anyway, I promise.”

“You don’t understand.” The giant head shouted, rudely. “You will all have great power. You will work as a team.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Melonhead sir, teamwork. Nobody’s better at teamwork than ol’ David here. Like I always say, I am all about teams, & teams are all about me. You can quote me on that.”

“In what possible context would someone need to rearticulate…” Billy began, before being forced to stop by a sudden pain in his groin.

David turned & held up his hands, ‘had to be done’ style. “Just establishing who’s boss here Mr. Clean. Every team needs a clear leader am I right?”

“Jason’s the leader” the robot said, raising a hand.

“Bull-horseshit-shit, he is.” David growled, pulling his arm back for a groin punch.

“Aye-yai-yai-yai-yai!” The robot shrieked, ear piercingly & groin punch warrantingly.

“Oh my god, no. Fuck you in all the ways, every fucking one of them, I hate you the most of anything ever.” He took a long drink & glared at Jason, the supposed leader. Now Jason knew karate, but David knew an even deadlier method of combat. Pulling out his Glock, David pressed it to Jasons’ temple & turned to the rest of them.

“Anyone of you fucks has a problem with me being in charge, say it now!” He screamed impressively. Nobody spoke & Kimberley started to cry.

“Just let him go!” she pleaded.

“Let him go, David, there’s no need for this. Violence should only be used as your last resort.” Said the buzzkill in the jar.

Shoving Jason away from him, David took two steps back & pointed the gun at him.

“What do you say hot shot? Still want to be in charge?”

Jason trembling & pale, shook his head. David tucked the gun into the back of his jeans.

“Atta boy!” He said jovially, clapping Jason on the shoulder & slapping him in the face a couple times.

Picking up a belt buckle with a bitching elephant carved on it, David took a deep swig of his morning brew & walked out.

Later that evening the team had a fight with like a skeleton or something. David was pretty hammered so he didn’t show, but it probably worked out.

 ***

“We have to clean the community park.” Kimberley piped up, for no good reason.

“Absolutely” agreed Jason.

“Morphtacular” said Billy.

“What a fucking stupid plot for a show about teen superheroes” David sighed.

Tommy the newest team member (& the most pathetic, in David’s objective & insightful view), didn’t say anything, but tripped over his own shoelaces & fell to the floor. He owned a fucking robot dragon, this clown.

Later, the gang & David, who had tagged along to get stoned in the park, were in, y’know the park, when Billy spoke up.

“My calculator is missing, unmorphtastical!” he yelled

Man if I wasn’t so comfortable lying here, I would punch him right in the groin…David thought.

“We’ll find it Billy.” Offered Jason, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Where did you leave it?” Asked Kimberley, looking around her.

“I’ve fallen!” Moaned Tommy, wetting himself.

Billy pointed at a bench about 10 feet over. “I just set it down for a minute. Someone must have stolen it.”

“Who would do such a thing?” Jason wondered stupidly.

“It was Rita.” David said, raising his head slightly, but just like, enjoying the day y’know? You really put things in perspective when you’re out in nature.

“We’ll have to hunt for it” Kimberley offered, setting off.

“Fucking Rita took it. It’ll come back later. As a monster. Like every fucking thing you guys touch.” David was getting angry now, they were ruining his high.

“Look over there!” Tommy screamed, like a fucking bitch.

It was, predictably, a monster. A monster with the body of a lizard, & the head of a pocket watch, or whatever the fuck Billys thing was. In any case it looked absolutely ridiculous.

“It’s morphing time!” Jason yelled, pointlessly, like they wouldn’t have thought to use their fucking superpowers without him.

Everyone yelled out the name of a dinosaur, while David pondered whether a Mastodon was really a dinosaur. Was it even from the same era? Who knows, he thought to himself, before pushing himself off the grass & moving his gaze to the ‘battle’. Which was really laughable. Jason leapt into the air, while Billy flipped over a couple of times to no discernible purpose. Tommy was nowhere to be seen, but he was probably crying. That’s usually a safe bet. Pre-history, we’re just guessing, David told himself, as he wandered over to the giant fucking mammoth he’d summoned. I think I read somewhere that there were mammoths in Egypt…Climbing in to the cockpit, he pressed a few buttons before the metal monstrosity raised a foot & crunched the fucking ruler beast or whatever I said.

“My calculator!” Billy wailed.

Calculator, that’s what it was.

 ***

It had been months since the park incident, & David wasn’t on speaking terms with the team. Partly, because they had blamed him for wrecking the park while they wanted to save it, & partly because they were mad at him for trading the Megazord’s communications unit for a set of nun-chucks. It looked like a stereo, sound came out of it, how was he supposed to know?

But a call had come in for action, & he was drunk on rage & also whiskey. He was spoiling for a fight. There weren’t many places to change around here, but there was an orphanage nearby, where he sometimes supplied the kids with “medicine” & such. Hurrying round the back, he passed a few of his regular customers, too tweaked to recognise him, rushed to morph. How this kind of thing would fool anyone, I don’t know, but in his defense, who fucking cares?

But on his way back around, he was stopped. By one of those little people. Children, you call them. Pieces of shit, David calls them.

“I know your secret” she crowed triumphantly.

“The fuck…I…That bag could belong to anybody! There’s certainly no reason to believe I own it. I don’t cook meth. I don’t even know how. I don’t even know that you’re talking about somebody’s bag of meth!”

“What’s meth?” She asked, trying to play dumb.

“Don’t get cute with me you little shit. This is entrapment. You know with a few words in the right, or should I say wrong, ears, you could be fed to the sharks in Mexico?”

“You’re David O’Leary.”

“Never heard of him.” David lied, cleverly.

“You are. I saw you go around the back & transform.” She held up her phone & showed him a video of him turning, & a Power Ranger coming back the other way.

“That could be anyone.”

“You’re David O’Leary & you’re a Power Ranger.”

“Nope.”

“Black ranger!”

David turned to look her dead in the eye, not that she could tell with the helmet.

“You racist. Little. Shit.”

“I didn’t mean, I just meant…”

“You think you’re better than me?” He yelled. “Think they’re better than me, that the White Ranger’s better than me?”

“No I didn’t..”

“You know he cries after he orgasms?”

“Wha…”

“What do you want, huh? Money? Meth? Money for Meth?”

“I just…I just…the…the…Power Rangers are my heroes…” She cried. It was really annoying.

“Heroes…?” He’d always wanted to be a hero…But the opportunity had never arisen. But now…

“Tell you what…You.” David said in a friendly tone, “if I was a 9 year old girl - & I’m not saying I’m not mind you – I’d like to see the inside of that big robot they all ride around in. How ‘bout you?”

This was his time to be a hero. And besides, if he could just make just one orphan kid happy, it would make up for all those happy kids he’d made orphans. David smiled, but again she couldn’t see it behind the helmet. Nobody could. That detail is just for your benefit.

“Y..You…You mean it?” She snivelled. God, that’s revolting.

“Absolutely. And all you have to do is forget that bag you found. Deal?”

“What bag?”

“Right, right, the Power Ranger thing. Don’t tell anybody.”

Teleporting to the scene of the battle, David couldn’t see the rest of the team. Just Tommy, who had gotten ice cream all over himself again, & a gold plated scorpion woman. Something didn’t seem right…

Trust your instincts David, he told himself, this scorpion lady may be trouble…

“David help!” Tommy cried, farting pathetically, as the scorpion woman turned into…a bigger scorpion? Like, like just a scorpion thing, & grabbed him in her pincer(?). She was more scorpion than before is the point.

“Shit. Fuck. Right.” David said, psyching himself up. He didn’t like scorpions, nobody does. Would the mammoth thing work again? Where had he parked it? What if he just kinda set fire to her? Tommy would die yes, but if he had to blow up a scorpion lady, that was probably preferable.

He looked around for a bomb, or something. Anything. Work with what you’ve got David, he thought, how do you make a bomb out of leaves? He shot at her a couple of times with his axe-gun, missing her, but at least hitting Tommy a couple of times.

“David!” The shout came from behind him. It was the team. And the kid was probably in the background somewhere, I don’t care. As they surrounded him, the team uttered a few rushed apologies, David reassuring them that yes, they had overreacted, & no, he didn’t forgive them. Before brainstorming. Billy held out his hand, in which something was beeping.

“Is that…?” David asked.

“It’s an amplifier! We just insert our power crystals &...” Billy was cut off.

“Power?” David crowed, “More like powder! Like drugs, am I right? Because I crushed them & snorted the powder I mean. They’re gone.”

“But without the crystals to fuel it…”

“Fuel what?” David asked.

“It’s a matricellular combustion device, connected to the morph” Billy began, before someone silenced him with a mighty punch to the groin.

But fuel…That gave him an idea. Taking out his hip flask, he poured a small measure onto the grass, which wilted & died instantly. He nodded. I just hope it’s strong enough. Turning, he pulled his shoulder back & lobbed the flask at the monster, a trail of liquid spilling & filling the air with the smell of ether & shame. He raised the axe-gun to his shoulder & took aim.

“Hope you like fried scorpion you…Dick!” He pulled the trigger.

“NOOOO!” came from somewhere behind him.

KABOOOM! Came from directly in front. When the smoke settled, the scorpion lady was gone, & so was Tommy. And ‘good riddance!’ I say. Straightening up, David walked over to the team, all standing completely still in awe, to congratulate them & give Billy a celebratory punch in the groin. Without his being there, something else probably would have happened.

 A few years down the line, David retired as a Power Ranger. Placing his belt buckle on the panel in front of the blue head guy & punching Billy in the groin for the last official time, David went home & spent a few years having a well deserved drink.

Hi. I don’t know what your reaction will be to this letter. You probably expected me to say this sooner, but I was only ordered to do so last Thursday & I’ve been super busy. Now I don’t want you to think that this apology is any less sincere for being mandated to me by a judge. It is, but I’d like it if you looked past that & take what I’m about to say at face value. I tried to find the best possible words to express how I feel, but they were rejected by several officers. So I’ll just say it; I’m sorry I tried to kidnap your wife.

You might be a little confused by that. What do I mean by ‘tried’? I suppose from your point of view, I did kidnap your wife, just not for very long. But I feel if I’d planned things better, I might have held her hostage long enough to clarify the situation for everybody. As it panned out, things got a little messy & that’s on me, I accept that. I shouldn’t have tried to rush things. I’ll know better next time.

But it takes two to tango, I think you’ll agree. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to weasel my way out of this. I completely accept that I could be as much as 40% responsible for what happened. I don’t want to talk too much about what I did, because frankly, after 8 months awaiting trial, I’ve heard it all before & I didn’t particularly care to begin with. What I’d like to talk about is your wife’s role in all this.

Hopefully you’ve calmed down since the trial, which was a pretty charged affair (eh?) for all of us, & can open your mind & see things from my side. (Sidebar: It would really help my appeal if you do.) Objectively speaking, your wife clearly led me on that night. If she didn’t want to be held for ransom, she shouldn’t have been dressed like someone too slow to outrun my van. Also, now that I think about it, did you consider that maybe she was mistaken? Like maybe she asked me for a lift & forgot about it? That’s a possibility right? 

You probably want to know why her. I know she asked that a lot. Well the truth is, I’ve seen a lot of movies in which the heros’ wife is kidnapped & held for ransom. Usually the hero wins, but the kidnapper receives star billing, & goes on to bigger roles. This was my end goal here, to end up on screen (& given how many news helicopters I counted during the chase, I think I succeeded). So you see it wasn’t a sex thing. This was never about sex. This was about money & fame & the sex that comes with having these things. I don’t want to insult your intelligence, talking about other ways this was her fault, but there absolutely are more.

Incidentally, if you feel like not killing a single one of my accomplices somehow makes you less of a man, rest assured, it totally does.

Yes it’s fair to say that violent movies played a large part in my plan. In fact you could say I was imitating them. So ask yourself? Did I kidnap your wife, or did our celebrity obsessed culture force me to kidnap her? From a physical standpoint, me, clearly me. I should probably have worn a hat or something, but philosophically who’s to say? Certainly not that drunk hack of a judge, in my humble opinion.

I wish there was some way for me to make this up to you that didn’t involve much effort on my part. If I had some ransom money, I might have paid someone to make the effort for me, but you know what they say about spilled milk. You can lead it to water, but you can’t drink it. Same as a horse. But I accept that my actions may have hurt you, & how my suggestion that you ‘stop carrying on about it’, may not have helped as much as I thought. I was only trying to put things in perspective. It could have been worse. 

But perspective is a two way street! And I realise now that I could have done more to make the experience more enjoyable. This was obviously your first kidnapping, & I could have done more to make you feel safe and cared for. This is a lone blip in my otherwise spectacular hosting record.

I’m not going to tell you how to move on with your life. But I will await your reply. Please include a nail file or something as my birthday is coming up (it doesn’t have to be my main present!) & I would really like to no longer be in prison by then.

I think this experience will be something we look back on & laugh at when we get together. See what’s really important in life isn’t fame, or ransom money, it’s friendship.

Your (hopeful!) pal,

David “Handsome David” O’Leary

 PS: I wanted to write your wife an individual letter, but frankly it seemed like a wasted effort if she wasn’t going to read it. You can read her this one, & when she comes out of the coma, we’ll grab a drink.  

David: Hi there

The Waif: What the..

David: Don’t freak out I’m here to help. So fill me in, what’s going on.

The Waif: Nothing. I don’t…

David: Hang on you sound familiar, who are you?

The Waif: No one.

David: Oh my god! You’re the Waif! Are we…We’re in Game of Thrones!

The Waif: What?

David: Shut up. Oh man, & you. You’re totally trying to Game of Thrones someone!

The Waif: I don’t even know what that means…

David: It’s about time. Arya, you’re trying to Game of Thrones that bitch. Oh, this is fantastic, people have been waiting ages for this.

The Waif: For what? What people?

David: This whole arc.

The Waif: …..

David: I guess I must seem like a god to you…ECHOOO!!!

The Waif: …..

David: So how’re you gonna do it?

The Waif: Well I dressed as an old woman.

David: Go on…

The Waif: I waited until her future looked bright, she’d booked passage home, had a jaunty moment. Something in my head just told me to wait until she felt secure & optimistic, like her future had possibilities.

David: Showrunners, of course, happens to the best of ‘em.

The Waif: Then I crept up behind her & from nowhere stabbed her in the belly.

David: Wow! Now that’s how a professional handles

The Waif: Then I threw her over the bridge.

David: Wh…Why would you do that?

The Waif: Well…Why not?

David: I mean you just turned her into a reverse hedgehog, wouldn’t it have been easier to just watch her die?

The Waif: Oh she died. No one could survive that.

David: I thought you were No one?

The Waif: No one in the abstract.

David: Confusing…Look, normally you’d be right. But I mean think it through here, a strange foreigner coming to learn from you? Check. Your mentor has an out of character fondness for her? Check. Tragic backstory. Check. They send you, her rival, to kill her? Checkmate. What you’ve got right here’s a main character, no doubt about it.

The Waif: So you’re telling me…

David: She’s alive, totes.

The Waif: No. Not possible.

David: She’s getting aid as we speak. Has she met a new character recently? Most likely a bit part.

The Waif: The actress!

David: Yes that would make narrative sense. Mother substitute. If you’d been paying attention, you’d have figured it out yourself.

The Waif: Paying attention to WHAT?

David: Fair point. Look just find her OK?

The Waif: I’ll find her.

David: Actually I’m just gonna jump us ahead to that point if that’s OK.

The Waif: What the…What did you do? Everything just stopped.

David: Nothing. Look ignore the fourth wall stuff OK? It’ll just get complicated if we both do it.

The Waif: I’ve never...So cold...So...So dark...

David: I understand, but the guy writing this. He’s got a bit of a weakness for this, especially when he’s doing it off the cuff. He thinks it’s meta.

The Waif: What does that mean?

David: Neither of us really know to be honest. But we’re reasonably sure it’s clever.

The Waif: OK...

David: Now you’re in the actresses’ house. You see Arya?

The Waif: Yes she’s sleeping.

David: You see her sleeping?

The Waif: Yes.

David: That would have been a good moment to kill her.

The Waif: The old woman would have protected her.

David: Where is she?

The Waif: I killed her.

…..

The Waif: …..

…..

The Waif: FUCK!

David: It’s alright, it’s not your fault. It’s just this... This whole season. Are you at least disguised? You have one of the face things?

The Waif: No.

David: Why?

The Waif: She needs to know it’s me.

David: I am 100% certain she does not.

The Waif: She went out the window.

David: NO! Chase her you idiot!

The Waif: Relax, nobody could have survived, not with injuries like hers.

David: This is fucking Arya fucking Stark! She hasn’t interacted with a relevant character since season 3 & people still love her! We had an entire season of her & the Hound riding a horse to White Castle. People couldn’t get enough of it!

The Waif: Alright, I’m chasing her already.

David: I can see. Are you doing the T-1000 thing on purpose? As an homage?

The Waif: What?

David: You know, the way you run, you can both perfectly mimic anybody, but don’t bother to? Nevermind. Why have you slowed down?

The Waif: She’s bleeding, I can take my time & savour the moment.

David: No! Do you real…..

David: …..

David: …..

David: Am I on mute?

‘Real’ David: Yup.

David: Why?

‘Real’ David: Well I mean, I didn’t really have time to write you out of it. I only had an hour or so to do this. By next week, everyone will have moved on, episode 9. I had to do it at work, real rush job.

David: That’s such a lazy excuse, ‘couldn’t write them out of it’, you wrote me into it!

‘Real’ David: Yeah I know. To do it over, I probably wouldn’t have posted this the very day after the episode.

David: Still, at least it’s over.

‘Real’ David: True, true. 

David: You see the Hound?

‘Real’ David: Yeah

David: Think we’ll get to see him fight Mountainstein?

‘Real’ David: Wouldn’t that have been sweet.

David: This fucking season man…

It’s been tough out there for the last few years. As recently as 2014, over 20% of people under 25 were unemployed. But things appear to have picked up in the wake of the zombie boom, or “apocalypse” as the scaremongering, mass-media have dubbed it. This hot new sector has proven a boon for workers everywhere, with 64% of just, like, fucking everybody being a zombie now. And that number could be even higher for all we know, what with the massive amount of former census takers who are also zombies now.

But it’s not all roses & sunshine & resource hoarding. Past data would suggest that this horrifying level of growth is unsustainable, even if the bubble shows no sign of bursting anytime soon. In fact, some are predicting a surge in new zombies, as friends & families everywhere find themselves unable to guiltlessly gun down their loved ones. Among people we polled, some of the most frequently cited reasons for becoming a zombie were; “she’s still my wife, I know it, I know she’s still in there somewhere”, followed by “incoherent sobbing”, & “They’re through the gates! They’re through the g…Aaarrgghhh….”

But as any college graduate can tell you, high interest means high competition. Which is why it’s so important to get your foot in the door now. As the zombie field gets closer to saturation/ ending civilization as we know it, it’s going to get more & more difficult to set yourself apart from all the other candidates. So what sets you apart? Is it your work ethic? Your organisational skills? Your delicious, delicious brains?

Be sure to include your hobbies in your C.V. While a lot of people feel like employers won’t be interested, it’s a great way to give your application a personal touch, to make you stick in the mind of your potential employers. You never know! The ‘person’ interviewing/ chewing you might share your interests, giving you some common ground. Sharing sports stories is a great way to ease your nerves in a tense situation (& it certainly won’t hurt if you can highlight how fast you are!)

Spend some time figuring out what aspects of your work history are most relevant. It’s always useful to have a background in a ragtag group of survivors. Not only will your time evading the unending hordes of ravenous undead make for an amusing anecdote, but having a bunch of friends to sell out will really let them know; You’re committed to being a real part of team zombie. There’s nothing worse for employers than spending time training/ infecting new employees only to have them turn around & leave for some other opportunity. As a mummy or sharkman or something.

Which brings us to an important point. You really do have to be 100% committed here. Zombieing isn’t just a job, like backup dancer, or sharkman hunter. It’s a career, like teaching, or being a sharkman. Once you’re a zombie, you’re in for life. Scratch that, you’re in it for death. Un-death? Un-life? We’ll come back to what that is. Time certainly isn’t an issue when you’re one of the terrifyingly numerous undead!

It’s a career &, yes, like any career, expect to bring a fair amount of your work home with you. Whether you’re in the hospital for a check up, or just getting some things for a weekend barbeque, you’re going to run into lots of survivors on emergency supply runs. And don’t think this is a case of being ‘off the clock’. When you’re a zombie, you’re never off the clock. Swarm those bastards.

There are some drawbacks of course. It’s difficult to set yourself apart from all the other new employees, especially when you’re all part of the same unthinking horde. So your performance has to speak for itself. Like any industry, a lot of zombie practice is done that way because that’s the way it’s always been done. While you don’t want to rock the boat too much, try finding creative ways to catch/recruit new prey/workers.

Biting, for example, is the bread & butter of the zombie industry. No hang on, it’s the brains & butter of the zombie industry. Can you even imagine if I’d missed that opportunity right there? Anyway, biting. Classic move, it’s probably the first thing people think of when they see a zombie, after “FUCK!” But as ingrained a practice as it is, biting fleeing humans isn’t the most efficient way of doing business. In fact, massive chunks of company/ unending nightmarish sea of zombies time is lost every year due to the fact that we insist on biting our prey. And I know what you’re going to say; “biting spreads the virus”, “brains…”, “brrraaaaiiinnnnssss….” I’ve heard it all before.

But you could consider spreading it in other ways, maybe strap a tooth to a dart gun & fire it at the human. I don’t know, I’m not an ideas man, I’m just a HR guy slowly losing his humanity to the virus & trying to deal with it all.

Another huge productivity sapper. Doors. I can’t tell you how many production hours are lost every day, trying fruitlessly to gain access to one of humanity’s last holdouts by ramming into doors. Even though you spent your entire fucking lives opening doors. They’re not a difficult concept to grasp. Dogs do it. Dogs do it all the fucking time.

Oh, speaking of dogs, as wandering piles of meat, lots of you are going to be eaten by dogs. Occupational hazard.

It was my alarm ringing that woke me. If it had been up to me, I’d have stayed asleep, but that’s life for ya.

Also, I guess that’s kind of the point of alarms in a way. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed & stretched. Making my way to the phone, I kicked over an empty whiskey bottle & heard it clink off the floor. There was a stir from behind me, & I turned to see a spray of hair & a neck on one of my pillows. I nodded to myself. Nice. I stepped over a couple whiskey bottles & walked over to the desk. Moving aside some old whiskey bottles, I picked up my phone & slid my finger to stop it shrieking at me.

Fuck…my head was splitting. My mouth tasted like old pennies, or maybe a different simile, since I don’t really know what pennies taste like. It was unpleasant anyway. I twisted the cap off a bottle of whiskey & took a swig to wash the taste out.

Much better. I breathed in deep, & took another look at the hair on the bed. There was a leg poking out from the covers too, but only time would tell if the two were connected. I left the room to take a leak & tried to piece together the events of last night, before realising I didn’t really care.

After shaking off, I brushed my teeth & admired myself in the mirror for a bit. Handsome as ever, my reflection grinned at me, & I grinned back, because a smile costs nothing. Picking up the bottle of whiskey by the sink, I swished some around my gums, before gargling for 30 seconds & swallowing. I know they say you shouldn’t do that, but I always do.

My phone starting shrieking again suddenly, but I guess it’s kinda sudden every time. Like there’s never a warm up ring. Returning to my room, I picked it up & swiped to answer.

“Mr O’Leary?” A womans voice. A sexy womans voice? Both? Neither? No way to be sure. 

“Big D speaking.”

The connection must have been bad, because it took a few seconds before they answered.

“Mr O’Leary, I run a kind of…collection agency, & I was given your number by an employment agency.”

“Oh. Oh right, yeah, listen, that’s…Flattered & all, but I’m not really looking for…I mean, that employment thing, that’s…that’s really more of a court thing, y’know?”

“There’s a lot of money in this job. Cash in hand. Not long-term either, I’m just looking to avail of your services for one night.”

“You & ever other woman I know!” Hah! There wasn’t anybody around to high five me, & I couldn’t self-five with the phone in my hand. Looking around I spotted the sleeping girls leg, so I walked over & slapped that.

“Mr O’Leary, please.”

 “Actually, before I agree to this, you should know, Big D isn’t referring to”

“Mr O’Leary…”

“No it is referring to me, but the D isn’t referring to”

“Mr O’ Leary, I know what,”

“I mean sure ‘big’ makes you think, but the name means ”

“I know!”

“My dick is enormous.”

“D for David! I know! I get it! Everyone gets it!” I don’t know why she was shouting, I could hear her just fine.

“Yeah they do!” I slapped the girl again to celebrate. I was on fire this morning.

“Look, if I send you an address, can you meet me there at 12?”

“I mean I could just send a photo if you want to see…?”

“Don’t say it.” Then there was a click & she was gone. Or maybe there wasn’t a click, I’m not sure if phones still do that. I opened a bottle of whiskey & started thinking about how I was going to boot this bitch out the door.

A couple hours later I was in a taxi heading to an address that had been texted to me twenty minutes after the call. I was running late, it had taken a while to convince the girl that she hadn’t had her purse with her last night when I met her. Some people are so stubborn. Their minds are made up before you even start talking to them.

How do women find anything in these things. Rooting around in this purse I found, I passed the driver a twenty & some lipstick, I opened the door & started walking down a side street. He shouted something after me as I was leaving, but I figured he wasn’t going to leave his car for the sake of eight quid.

I looked around at the establishments for the name in the text.

“Mr O’Leary!”

Glancing around I saw this tiny, impossibly small woman waving at me from outside a café. I think she was waving, it was hard to tell. I’m talking freakishly small. About a thumb tall.

“Mr O’Leary, I’m glad you could make it.”

I mean, just a ridiculous level of small here. Just fucking stupid. And there was something else, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on…

I sat opposite her & pulled a bottle of whiskey out of my jacket. I took a slug & decided to get down to brass tax? Tacks? Sure. I knew it was important to establish my dominance early on, so I put a hard edge in my voice, or a ‘Scottish accent’ some call it.

“Listen Thumbilina, I don’t have a lot of time here, so why don’t you tell me what this is about.”

She pursed her lips to stop herself laughing at my Thumbilina line. Some people think it looks unprofessional to laugh in interviews. I looked straight at her & laughed loudly, to let her know it was OK, I’m a fun guy. Her wings started flapping a little faster at that. Was that what was weird about her? Was there something about her wings that was different from other womens’ wings?

“Mr O’Leary, I’m interested in hiring you to perform a certain task for me. I believe I mentioned ‘collections’, when we spoke on the phone earlier?”

“Believe can relieve, but liquor is quicker” I said, & then nodded a bit at how clever that is. Do women have wings?

“Mr O’Leary, please pay attention. Please, just. No, no, look at me. Look at... Mr O’Leary the sugar packets are free, you don’t need to hide them in your jacket.”

This chick was sharp. This chick is sharp, I thought to myself.

“Now, all I need you to do for me, is call around to a number of houses, & collect some things for me. Can you handle that?”

“Listen lady, I’ve been thinking about it all day since I got here, & I don’t think it’s for me. I mean it’s not that I can’t take care of myself. Because I can.” I slammed the table a little for emphasis & a piece broke off the edge. “But this kind of operation, these kind of collection jobs, you get in someone’s face, demanding money, they can get aggressive & I’m not going to risk getting my life just for a little mon...”

“Mr O’Leary, the people you’ll be collecting from are children.”

“Oh that’s a whole different story. Yeah. I could kick the shit out of a child easy.”

“Mr O’Leary, I’m not asking you to hurt anyone.”

“Gotcha. ‘I never said x your honour.’” I said winking one eye to be sneaky, then the other to be sexy.

There should be a word for winking both eyes at the same time like that…

“Do you understand me?”

“Hundred percent”, I said with another winks, “Not a child to get hurt.”    

“Good. Now our operation collects childrens’ teeth & in exchange”

“Tooth Fairy! Shit, that’s what it is! God I was wondering. You’re the Tooth Fairy!”

“Yes, I am the Tooth Fairy, but for tonight you’ll be the..”

“It was the wings.”

“Yes, now you’ll”

“They’re not like other girls’ wings.”

She paused & studied me for a moment. I think she may have been starting to fall for me. Remember that line, I thought, everyone admires the eyes, nobody ever compliments a girl on her wings.

“Anywayyy…” Big dramatic inhale, “You’ll be filling in for me for tonight only. There’s something important that I can’t get out of & it’s important that the show goes on. Childhood whimsy & all that.”

I nodded to make it look like I cared, but really I was trying to picture the wings of every woman I’d ever been with.

 So a few hours later, I was suited up & ready to go. The job-training was pretty easy, I bet, I didn’t really listen. They didn’t spend as much time on self-defense as I’d have liked, so  I had a crowbar in my bag in case I ran into trouble. She’d been very emphatic about one point in particular. “Don’t let anybody in the house see you. “ Like it was my first time stealing from a child.

“You didn’t have to wear a leotard.” She folded her arms as she said it, the way women do when they’re annoyed by something & written as clichés.

“Fairies wear leotards. You’re the one who was all about whimsy or dreams or some other bullshit.” Point David.

“OK, now look at me. I want you to follow the names on this list very carefully. When you’re in, quietly make your way into the kids room, then”

“Nope.”

“What?”

“Not doing it. Too weird, too creepy. Even for me, & I’ve had sex with a snowman.”

“You…WHAT?”

“Snowperson fine, Jesus. Look lady, you should have thought of this. I’m a 22 year old man, you get that? You understand what it looks like if a 22 year old man breaks into a child’s room? Wearing a fucking leotard?”  

“Nobody asked you to wear a leotard!”

“No, but I look dope as fuck, but this shit…Not gonna fly. No way, no how.”

“Double your pay.”

“Done.” The women drove a hard bargain, & I don’t actually know how to negotiate.

So like that, I was handed a list of names & kicked out of the nest. Little bit of trivia for you, fairies live in nests. I had a list of names & addresses to follow, & a cup of coffee in my hand. Pulling a whiskey bottle from its hiding spot in my leotard I pulled the lid off the coffee & dumped the contents on the ground, before filling it up with Jameson. Needed to be sharp tonight.

Obviously I couldn’t take a taxi to these people’s houses. Well I could, but I’d have to kill (which means ‘silence’) the taxi driver & I didn’t want to ruin my leotard. So that left a narrow range of options, walk, cycle, drive. I didn’t have a car, & if I stole one someone might report it. I didn’t have a bike to cycle, so that left walking. Which is a nightmare in heels.

Thinking what a good decision it had been not to wear heels, I made my way to the first house. There was still a light in the window, but I wanted to finish up as fast as I could. Also, I’d forgotten what the fairy said about not being seen.

Climbing over the fence, I ducked low as I ran past the windowsill. Luckily one of the empty rooms had a window open, so I squeezed silently through & made my way over to the door. Gently opening it, I could hear the TV going. The door to that room was closed though, the light from inside coming out through the gap at the floor.

I tiptoed up the stairs & wondered how I was gonna do this. There were signs on both doors reading ‘Tina’ & ‘Jackson’. Looking at my list, I saw that it was Jacksons’ teeth I was here for. I pushed open the door into darkness & shut it as quietly as I could. I could just about see by the dim light of the streetlights outside, stupid as that is. There was the bed over by the window, a desk, toys, money jar, all the usual kid stuff, who gives a shit. I turned the list over to read the instructions the fairy had given me.

1.       Put Money Under Pillow

Slowly putting my hand into my backpack I lifted out the bag of coins she’d given me & took one. Silently I slipped my hand under the pillow & left the coin there. Now for the next step, I checked the list.

2.       Take Teeth

Getting the teeth out if they were under the kids head without waking him would be impossible, so I didn’t. Figuring the fairy would be pissed if I came back with nothing, I took the coin back, so at least she broke even. I turned to leave & the money jar caught my eye.

I looked at my list of instructions,

1.       Put Money Under Pillow

2.       Take Teeth

Not a word about jars though, so I grabbed it. Besides, I figured, money is worth more than teeth, so this way she makes a profit. Stuffing it into my bag as I stepped into the hall, the door across from me opened. The painted on ‘Tina’ faded away as human Tina stepped into view.

“Wh…Who the fu..”

WHAM

The .whamming’ was the sound of me hitting her with the crowbar. You can’t hesitate when it’s life or death like that. Out cold with one shot & I didn’t reckon anyone had heard her. Even better, as I looked down at the floor I saw it was covered with loose teeth. Kneeling & scooping them up, I smiled to myself. Everything’s coming up David.

The next house was a bit more straightforward, & the one after that. The one after that was a bit trickier, they had a massive dog who went mental when he smelled my urine. I’d left some on the carpet, specifically so the dog would understand it was my territory & that I belonged here, but the little piece of shit just went mental. Not little, huge. Or whatever size I said it was before, I refuse to check.

Anyway that little shit kept barking & I had to flee without any teeth or any money & just one photograph. That fairy might think she wants teeth, but the real treasure is family.

I was honestly sick of this job. Besides, this was a monumentally inefficient way to go about a job like this. One kid per house? What is that, like a tooth every twenty minutes? No enterprise could survive on that. What I needed was a lot of kids in one place, where I could get lots of teeth at once. But where?

But where? I thought, sitting on the swing in this one families’ garden. Kicking my legs back & forth, swinging so high, you wouldn’t believe how high it was, seriously, suddenly it hit me. And best of all the kids in question, didn’t even need their teeth. Smiling, I jumped off the seat & flew like a thousand feet.  

Now you probably think I went to the graveyard or something twisted. But that’s stupid for two reasons.

1.       You can’t always tell which graves are kids, so a lot of what you dig up isn’t what you’re looking for.

2.       I didn’t have a shovel, I had a crowbar.

3.       Graveyards are spooky at night, & dead people are creepy.

No where you want to go is a hospital. Hospitals have whole units of kids so sick that they can’t eat. Sure, some of them are dead, which is creepy, but lots of them are just sick, which is only annoying. Now you probably have some questions like; ‘How did you get in there?’, ‘The parents would have stopped you?’, ‘Did you hurt them?’. But this is about my time as a Tooth Fairy, not my time as a guy who hit a lot of people with a crowbar, so let’s just say they were cool with it.

Besides that one kid probably wasn’t going to make it anyway.

 You’d think, she’d appreciate my hard work when I showed her all those teeth.  

“What the fuck is this?”

“It’s a lesson”

“A lesson?”

“In economics, ever heard of it. Your business was never going to grow your way. Besides how much money were you giving away? And for what?” I’d find out later it was for stem cell research, but at the time I couldn’t have known that, without asking her to repeat herself. “Besides you wouldn’t give money to a homeless person would you?”

She screamed, which wasn’t really the ‘thank you’ I’d expected.

“How many houses on the list did you visit?”

9

“All of ‘em.”

“All of them?”

“Yep all of them. Every one & more.”

“And the hospital…?”

She looked pretty mad, maybe she was related to that kid? His mom maybe? Her wings were buzzing.

“OK, it was a risky move, but what we were trying to do…”

Angrily buzzing, “I’ll ask you once. Did you attack anyone at the hospital?”

“You could say yes, you could say no. It would probably be more accurate to say yes, but...” I threw up my hands to finish.

 It was then that she flew at my face. You know how sometimes you get surprised by a bee or a fly?? And you kinda just instinctively swat it and you end up accidentally killing it? And you feel bad for a minute, but really it was so small that its life was totally insignificant? So you figure fuck it, & you wrap it in tissue & throw it in the bin? Well it was like that, but with a tooth fairy. Pouring myself a long overdue glass of whiskey, I wondered. What did I learn from all this?