It will happen like this. Christmas will come as it does every year and it will play out exactly like or something like or nothing at all like it did the year before or the year before that. Preparations, arrangements, lists will be made. Who will drive who, who will go where, who will get what. Bags and bags and bags of stuff will be bought and wrapped because we are all good consumers and if we're not then we should be thank you very much god save the queen etc. Everyone will buy their dead turkeys in good time, big fat dead turkeys who had a good life I'm sure, look it's smiling, lovely healthy free range turkey had a good life probably did loads of cool turkey stuff gobble gobble gobble. Friends and neighbours will be invited in, hey Mrs Jones come and have a look at my christmas turkey I've called him boris not becker but johnson ha ha isn't that funny naming the turkey after boris johnson oh god it's actually happening anyway they will both stand in front of the freezer and you and mrs jones will be invited to poke the dead bald frozen turkey and then as mrs jones is leaving I'll be invited in and you've got your tape measure and weighing scales out ready to impress me and you're proud of it oh so so so proud of it and we'll both be stood there staring at it and my eyes will be blank. You're expecting me to say something like oh wow how many is boris going to feed but I will say nothing just stand there blankly weak-limbed and agog. Then you'll ask what I've called mine and I'll say I haven't bought it I'm thinking of having a nutroast this year and your eyes will malfunction like your brain's just bluescreened itself what what what what what goodnessmewhatwillyoudo? Nutroast is madness just madness it's too late now far too late all the turkeys are gone all the turkeys are gone!!! And you will tell your friends and they will tell their friends and I'll become the talk of the town. And whole families will look at me funny as I pass them on the street. The father will whisper to the mother, the mother to the daughter, the daughter to the son and the son to their little dog who will bark it to all the spirits that only dogs can see. But who cares about that I want to go meat-free this year, yes meat-free is a good option, I've decided I'm definitely going meat-free and having a nutroast this year. He's mad, he's mad, he's mad, they'll say through the walls. Then on Christmas Eve my unblowable front door will blow open and the biggest turkey I've ever seen will fly in and in a spin of feathers unpluck itself and walk straight into my oven. How about that, I say. Howawowabout that.
Samsa was now a human. He’d recently become a human after his architect decided to put a human heart in him and give him feelings. The five litres of blood that now pumped around his body warmed him up. It made for incredible nose bleeds, spasms, cramps and bruising, to name o nly a small fraction of the symptoms, but his architect assured him that it would all be worth it and that he'd feel normal very soon. He didn't know what normal was, but he knew it wasn't puking and shitting and bleeding all over the place for the first two months and then just feeling terrible for several weeks after that. Human life is agony, he thought, but he trusted the process. One day, a little over twelve weeks after the operation, he woke up from his first good night's sleep and was able to open the curtains without the light splitting his skull in two. Samsa had known Shabeezi before she became a human woman. All they had done was fight. Samsa especially liked doing flying
Comments
Post a Comment