I have recently subscribed to Private Eye magazine in order to indulge in more witty prose and quirky coverage to the events shaping the world. I enjoy reading news, particularly politics, and can be seen constantly scouring the pages of the periodicals in the library (and petrol stations) or skimming down the columns of news websites. However, to balance out the intake of harrowing international events, social injustices and imminent environmental catastrophe I needed something that would bring a smile to my face or even make me laugh. So I decided on buying into Hislop’s baby and await its delivery.
In other news, I still haven’t been paid for my transcribing work I did a last month. I’m pretty peeved about this and have sent an angry email demanding payment. They haven’t said they are refusing to pay me, in fact they haven’t said anything at all. It’s all gone quiet but every time I think about the job the tears of boredom literally start pouring from my eyes.
Here is some more prose I wrote the other night.
In other news, I still haven’t been paid for my transcribing work I did a last month. I’m pretty peeved about this and have sent an angry email demanding payment. They haven’t said they are refusing to pay me, in fact they haven’t said anything at all. It’s all gone quiet but every time I think about the job the tears of boredom literally start pouring from my eyes.
Here is some more prose I wrote the other night.
*****************************
Clarence started to walk towards the door when she turned round looking at the forlorn person in front of her.
“I saw you talking to that girl.”
He really didn’t know how to answer, it wasn’t a question but obliged him to give her an answer. The seriousness of her tone indicated that any attempt to give a one word response would not throw her off the scent. But did he want to spend about half an hour explaining to her what had happened between them. He would like to hear another opinion and she being someone he doesn’t see every day could give an objective view on who was to blame. It was the word blame that made him jerk his body, like a dawning in a new ideology of thinking, he wasn’t there yet but he knew that looking to see who was to blame was the wrong way to solve this problem and get to the root of his true feelings.
“We used to be together.” he says.
The five word sentence wasn’t something Clarence was expecting, she was waiting for him to finish the sentence and then to unravel his story to her, explaining every bit. But instead he just stands silently until he jerks his body all of a sudden. She feels sorry for him.
“Ah don’t worry about it I’m alright.”
Sensing he doesn’t want to talk about it she walks over to him picks up her magazine and turns round to walk out back.
“Thanks Clarence, I’m just not ready to talk about it yet. But I’m grateful you are asking about me.” He says to her as she’s standing by the stock room door way.
The door slides open again. Yannish turns around sensing something about the person entering isn’t right. The man has entered the building but is literally two steps inside from the doors, his back towards the counter. It looks like he’s looking at the magazines on the top shelf but by the speed of movement from his head darting around as if pretending to do so, Yannish thinks it’s unlikely. He’s also very close to them, virtually standing on the newspapers at the bottom, almost hugging that side of the shop. Yannish, slightly cautious about the prospective customer returns behind the counter and tries to catch a glimpse of the man’s face. The man is wearing a dark navy baseball cap titled downwards to illuminate a shadow to hide his face, his brown hair protrudes from the gaps in the cap but signify nothing other than being short. He‘s wearing a beige coat that’s crinkled and seems a little worn, like it’s a favoured piece of clothing. He’s wearing dark trousers with black shoes which seem a little dusty. But it’s the face that Yannish wants to see the most but it eludes him. He considers walking over to the man and ask him a redundant question like, how may I help you? But decides not too, even though this man carries with him an element of menace, it may only be because of the clothes he’s wearing.
Clarence sees the man enter but thinks nothing of him other than someone looking to buy pornography but is too ashamed to do it directly so instead hovers over by the magazines until the moment quickly grasp it seems right. She’s heads out back to take her break.
Almost instantly as Clarence walks out back the man moves in four swift steps from the periodicals. He heads down towards the left hand corner of the area by the freezers, he dips down almost out of sight. Yannish tries to get sight of him, stretching his neck trying to see past the cereal boxes but can’t seem to find a way. He wiggles his head to get a better angle but is still obscured. Relaxing he feels a little foolish knowing this is exactly the stance and mannerisms of a stereotypical nosy neighbour. But he still wants to know where the man is. He debates weather to leave the counter and leave the till exposed or stay where he is and call out to him. But calling out to him would only let the man know that he’s being watched. No, he wants to catch this guy stealing in the act. Quietly getting up from his chair he carefully starts to walk over to the left hand corner of the shop. Getting to the last row he looks down it and sees the man hunched in a ball like way but still on his feet. He’s rummaging ferociously in the inside of his jacket, the outlines of his hands protruding through the material like as if an animal was loose in their trying to escape.
“Are you alright?” Says Yannish.
The man didn’t even acknowledge his existence, he just kept swaying from side to side with his hand dug into his jacket. His head still turned away looking towards the floor.
“Can I help you?”
The swaying continues profusely. Yannish starts to approach the man who finally manages to pull out what’s inside his jacket. Thinking it is a weapon, Yannish cowers back slowly but soon realises what it is.
The man in one motion pulls out a clown mask with red curly hair hanging on off the sides. He slaps it on his face and uses his free hand to wrench the elastic band round the back of his head. Yannish looks at him not sure what to think, he looks at the white coloured mask with a red tip nose and can’t help but find it comical. The man now standing straight in front of him looking at him puts his hand back into his jacket pocket and swiftly pulls out a gun. Even before seeing what type of gun it is Yannish’s eyes widen and the comical feeling evaporates as he knows exactly what’s going on and what’s going to happen.
“I saw you talking to that girl.”
He really didn’t know how to answer, it wasn’t a question but obliged him to give her an answer. The seriousness of her tone indicated that any attempt to give a one word response would not throw her off the scent. But did he want to spend about half an hour explaining to her what had happened between them. He would like to hear another opinion and she being someone he doesn’t see every day could give an objective view on who was to blame. It was the word blame that made him jerk his body, like a dawning in a new ideology of thinking, he wasn’t there yet but he knew that looking to see who was to blame was the wrong way to solve this problem and get to the root of his true feelings.
“We used to be together.” he says.
The five word sentence wasn’t something Clarence was expecting, she was waiting for him to finish the sentence and then to unravel his story to her, explaining every bit. But instead he just stands silently until he jerks his body all of a sudden. She feels sorry for him.
“Ah don’t worry about it I’m alright.”
Sensing he doesn’t want to talk about it she walks over to him picks up her magazine and turns round to walk out back.
“Thanks Clarence, I’m just not ready to talk about it yet. But I’m grateful you are asking about me.” He says to her as she’s standing by the stock room door way.
The door slides open again. Yannish turns around sensing something about the person entering isn’t right. The man has entered the building but is literally two steps inside from the doors, his back towards the counter. It looks like he’s looking at the magazines on the top shelf but by the speed of movement from his head darting around as if pretending to do so, Yannish thinks it’s unlikely. He’s also very close to them, virtually standing on the newspapers at the bottom, almost hugging that side of the shop. Yannish, slightly cautious about the prospective customer returns behind the counter and tries to catch a glimpse of the man’s face. The man is wearing a dark navy baseball cap titled downwards to illuminate a shadow to hide his face, his brown hair protrudes from the gaps in the cap but signify nothing other than being short. He‘s wearing a beige coat that’s crinkled and seems a little worn, like it’s a favoured piece of clothing. He’s wearing dark trousers with black shoes which seem a little dusty. But it’s the face that Yannish wants to see the most but it eludes him. He considers walking over to the man and ask him a redundant question like, how may I help you? But decides not too, even though this man carries with him an element of menace, it may only be because of the clothes he’s wearing.
Clarence sees the man enter but thinks nothing of him other than someone looking to buy pornography but is too ashamed to do it directly so instead hovers over by the magazines until the moment quickly grasp it seems right. She’s heads out back to take her break.
Almost instantly as Clarence walks out back the man moves in four swift steps from the periodicals. He heads down towards the left hand corner of the area by the freezers, he dips down almost out of sight. Yannish tries to get sight of him, stretching his neck trying to see past the cereal boxes but can’t seem to find a way. He wiggles his head to get a better angle but is still obscured. Relaxing he feels a little foolish knowing this is exactly the stance and mannerisms of a stereotypical nosy neighbour. But he still wants to know where the man is. He debates weather to leave the counter and leave the till exposed or stay where he is and call out to him. But calling out to him would only let the man know that he’s being watched. No, he wants to catch this guy stealing in the act. Quietly getting up from his chair he carefully starts to walk over to the left hand corner of the shop. Getting to the last row he looks down it and sees the man hunched in a ball like way but still on his feet. He’s rummaging ferociously in the inside of his jacket, the outlines of his hands protruding through the material like as if an animal was loose in their trying to escape.
“Are you alright?” Says Yannish.
The man didn’t even acknowledge his existence, he just kept swaying from side to side with his hand dug into his jacket. His head still turned away looking towards the floor.
“Can I help you?”
The swaying continues profusely. Yannish starts to approach the man who finally manages to pull out what’s inside his jacket. Thinking it is a weapon, Yannish cowers back slowly but soon realises what it is.
The man in one motion pulls out a clown mask with red curly hair hanging on off the sides. He slaps it on his face and uses his free hand to wrench the elastic band round the back of his head. Yannish looks at him not sure what to think, he looks at the white coloured mask with a red tip nose and can’t help but find it comical. The man now standing straight in front of him looking at him puts his hand back into his jacket pocket and swiftly pulls out a gun. Even before seeing what type of gun it is Yannish’s eyes widen and the comical feeling evaporates as he knows exactly what’s going on and what’s going to happen.
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