Forgetfulness

I hate being forgetful, it really vexes me when I forget something relatively important. I feel a little embarrassed of my actions and then that feeling is quickly followed with one of being pissed off as to why I forgot in the first place.

Today at work I had just sat down with my coffee and was just checking my mails when my mobile buzzed in my pocket. “Hello Sir, I would just like to inform you that you have forgotten your dental appointment with Dr Ambrose at 9am. Can you be here in 15 minutes? He can just about fit you in.” Said the receptionist, or words to that effect. So I take a huge gulp of coffee and let it burn my throat as it goes down and dash over to my boss, tell her I’ve got dentist and won’t be back for half an hour and make my way down to the dental clinic.

I get there all hot and bothered, no one is impressed with me getting there super fast, especially not reception. I sit down in the waiting area and stare at all the other people who just look like they’re preparing for their auditions as manic depressives for the remake of One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. At least Dr Ambrose is more joyful, in fact he always is, as he calls my name after a twenty minute wait. I always wonder why he can be so happy when he has to stick his hand in people’s mouths exposing himself to the threat of being nibbled at by an uncooperative patient. I conclude that he’s happy because he gets sadistic revenge by injecting people with needles the size of my hand, letting the local atheistic pump slowly. I’ve been his victim 4 times now and don’t fancy going there a fifth time. Luckily for me, I escape this as I’ve been brushing my teeth regularly so I get a pat on the shoulder instead for not getting any fillings.

On the way back I see Salmon (you may remember him from a previous entry). Turns out he’s quit that Internet game, World of Warcraft. I didn’t know whether to hug him or tell him I’m glad he’s re-plugged himself back to the real world. I ask him where he’s going and to my horror but not my surprise he’s going to the computer game shop to buy another online game called Guild Wars. Soon after this, I wish him luck on his quest with knights and head off to work thinking, shit I’m going to have to stay back late tonight.

I’ve written a bit more progressive prose to keep my mind on an active vibe.

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Two young women in their twenties are laughing and talking on the other side of the door. One has brown hair and is dressed in a red top with dark blue jeans, she’s talking rapidly and seems to be giggling at every other sentence she speaks, her head bouncing back and forth like Zebedee from the Magic Roundabout. She’s talking to a blond haired girl with a bobbed haircut who keeps playing with the strap on her black top by twirling it and then letting it go. She’s seems completely entranced at what the brown haired girl is saying, nodding her head every time there is a pause for a breath and laughs when a sentence finishes on an enthusiastic note. Even though, Yannish can’t hear what they are talking about he can tell just by his observation that the blond girl is faking her interest in the topic of conversation. In fact, it isn’t even a conversation, how can it be? The brown haired girl is just talking at the other girl while she politely responds accordingly at every cue given to her, nudging her along the conversation like a school teacher does to help the pupil get the answer in the end.

The area is brightly lit with huge halogen lights pouring down making them look like they are in a theatre performing on stage. They are on stage, Yannish’s stage in Yannish’s theatre. The room itself was full of clothes hanging on shelves at every level and in no apparent order, these must be the returns. On the left is the kitchen area with a sink, a table, three chairs and a microwave with the door swung open revealing various remnants of readymade meals splattered all over the inside and hanging from it’s ceiling. The right shows shelves upon shelves of shoe boxes, all neatly stacked up at the bottom but as the eye follows upwards the boxes become more ragged in appearance, until you get near the top and it becomes obvious someone just throws the boxes up in the air and if it manages to land on the shelf it is considered neatly stacked away. Just beyond the rows of shelves, Yannish spots a green light, it’s a familiar light that illuminates the word ‘Fire…’. He peers forward looking for the “…Exit” to confirm exactly what it is. Even though he knows what it is, it surely can’t be “Fire Hazard” or “Fire, Fire”. He gets the anxious feeling you get when you’re late and waiting for a train and you look at the Departures screen to see what time your train is and then you look 30 seconds later to see if it’s coming earlier. And then 1 minute later, even though you know the screen hasn’t changed you still look up and check. He can’t resist, he needs this confirmation so moves forward towards the crack opening the door a bit more so that the front part his hair flops out over on to the other side. He arcs his neck so that his eyes can see the “Exit” which settles any doubts he has. He quickly moves back into his space with a gleeful look spreading across his face. He knows now, his escape route. All that is left is to estimate how many people are in the building and how is he going to handle the two women on the other side of the door. They had now split from their conversation and moved to other ends of the room with one over by the kitchen looking into the cupboard. She pulls out a green mug and loosely places it on the table. The mug lands at an awkward angle and sways to the left, raising the right and then rocks back onto the right leaning so far forward it tips over the ledge heading towards the floor. The brown haired girl notices and dives forward cupping the mug with her hands as she crashes to the floor. She raises her head with a look of pleasure and looks around the room to see if anyone else had seen her catch. Her expression drops slightly as no one else had seen it, except of course for Yannish who dips his eyes to the ground just in case they catch hers.

Eventually, after a few seconds, he looks up to see the other woman on the right of the room, she isn’t in complete view because of the grey metal shelving interweaving with one another. Through the shelves and joints he makes out her head and a right arm and hand which is writing something down on a clip-board. “This could be a problem,” Yannish tells himself as he recoils his head from the door. He carefully shuts it and slides down the back of its wooden frame to fester in his own thoughts. If he had made his move just minutes earlier, he could have charged through that door made his way through the middle of the two women and be in between them and fire escape exit. He’d have both of them in his clear sight and be able to watch their every movement, twinge and expression. Behind them was only the wall so they’d have no where to turn making the situation all the more claustrophobic for them. He could have got them to barricade the door he came through earlier by pushing one of the shelves over the entrance. Then it would be just those three and he could get what he wanted and be out before they could sound any kind of alarm. But that was minutes ago. “Should I wait for a change, or just accept what I’ve been dealt with?” Thinks Yannish, whilst tapping the gun just above his temple to help ease the pressure that seems be concentrating there. Waiting for a change, was a gamble. If the women decided to stand close to each other and near the utility cupboard that would be an ideal occurrence for him and he could revert back to the way he had just imagined he’d do it. This of course was a definite possibility. However, by waiting might mean someone else from outside might enter the room. Ruining the plan, but also the dynamics of the group, the three of them, meaning the situation would need to be re-thought. This makes Yannish irate, his way was flawless, if only the two women would come closer again. Now if another or others enter the room, there will be more people to handle, more minds thinking how to undo him. Could he be undone? Yannish gets angry, angry enough to pull the trigger a little less guiltily?