Men’s heaven? A mirror floor office.
My budget was tighter than a goldfish’s anal sphincter, and there was no way I could make it stretch any farther. I’d slashed my expenses to the barest minimum. It was ridiculous! And no matter how I looked at it, I still wouldn’t be able to afford the flat. There were two options to make the rent they were asking for, and I hated both. After considering the pros and cons, I made a very difficult decision.
‘Nice girl without bad habits looking for flatmate. Phone 409 828 2690 during social hours only.’
I sighed like I was about to walk the plank. I didn’t want to do this, but needs must as the devil drives. I approached the bulletin board and stabbed the leaflet into place with a hairpin I’d found somewhere. I couldn’t even afford a thumbtack. That’s how skint I was.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Seriously, you wouldn’t have needed to take an x-ray.
It was the guy from this morning. The café guy. The one who allegedly worked at the magazine with me. He was stood there with a shy smile, and a posture that reeked of unnecessary subservience. Naturally, I still couldn’t recall his name. Had he given me his name? I couldn’t even remember that.
Fuck this. I was going to be rude. “Hey, jack, are you following me?”
He immediately adopted a defensive pose. “Oh my god! No!” he squeaked. “I have to come this way to get back to the office!”
“You’re some kind of weird sex pervert, aren’t you? Admit it!”
“NO no no no no! I’m not! I promise!”
He was waving his arms like a cartoon character. Even sweating bullets like one. It was almost comical, but I was bored.
“I don’t have time for this bullshit.”
I turned away, and left him gawping there at the bulletin board. It was time to get back to the office. From the corner of my eye, I noticed him typing on his phone. It looked for all the world like he was silently mouthing words as he did so. Who was this guy?!
Never mind that, Calix. Just keep walking and don’t look back.
Moments later when I had turned the corner, my phone rang. An unfamiliar number popped up on the screen. I sighed and accepted the call.
i’d had loads to drink and got up on stage
ready to wipe their asses with my whole life’s page
so i said “blah blah” this and all “blah blah“ that
“are you ready to be in stitches? double drat!”
“i’m the queen of the office! the boss don’t scare me!
the fucking tapeworm in her guts, not her pubic flea!
she’d better step off, man! learn her goddam place!
i’d love to see that smile slapped off her face!”
but she smiled and dropped some coins into my beer mug
“if career suicide’s what you crave then your grave’s dug”
well, i know whatever happens must happen for the best
my home’s a gutter now, and i got that shit off my chest!