Out of nowhere a quair fellow shouted at the tiptop of his lungs ‘…tomorrow the sky is going to fall, mark my words…’. The man in the hat, bent over a rabbit’s hole, said ‘…not again, you promised the last time was the last time…’. In the end the sky didn’t fall, and that was that. That afternoon, after morning vespers, the harridan’s sister’s table collapsed like a house of cards, bric-a-brac and doodads tumble every which where, the church deacon bellowing in laughter, a wee waif of a boy, his trousers to his knees, pissing up a storm. ‘…from here everything looks as it should…’ offered the deacon, ‘…so stop your blubbering and clean up that fucking mess…’. From where he was seated, between the ciborium saucer and the altar, the world looked as it should, port-side up and barreling with plumbed wine and biscuits. ‘…a girly like you should be grateful for what she has, measly and piddled as it is…’ he shouted, his face redder than spilt wine. Out of somewhere a quair fellow shouted at the bottom of his lungs ‘…watch out for that quair fellow, he’s a rare cunt he is…’. The harridan’s sister hightailed it down the church steps, and that was that.
Two weeks before the next day Dejesus received a postcard from his great uncle Theodore who lived in Ripe East Sussex and worked as a fixer for the Guernsey Cable Company. Before working for the Guernsey Cable Company, his great uncle Theodore worked for the Aktiengesellschaft Cable Company in Austria, and before that for the Nick Dye Cable Company in Stoke Mandeville Buckinghamshire. The postcard read, Dearest nephew, I am writing you this short missive from my post at the Guernsey Cable Company while I am momentarily on break, albeit a short miniscule break, as they frown upon long languishing breaks, sad bastards, anything beyond 10 minutes is considered middling, and as such too long, so you might well understand the brevity of this short missive. One fellow, a mister V. W. Beams, however, seems to be permitted longer breaks, in the neighborhood of 11 or 12 minutes, why, I am unsure, but I suspect he is a favorite of the shift-boss, or simply a very smart man. Mister Beams, who prefers to be addressed as V. W., thereby shortening the time it takes to address him, as the company demands the utmost attention from its peons, V. W. being one of many peons to which I speak, so you might well imagine the undue pressure I currently find myself under, sad as that may be. I fear I am quickly running out of writing space, so I will get to the gist of this short, albeit middling missive. Might I ask of you to inquire about a position with the Kipling Cable Company as a fixer first class, which I am to understand is situated not far, a stone’s throw, I believe, from where you currently call home? Dejesus read the postcard, curious as to the postmark on the topmost corner, then pitched it in with the other trash behind the Greek Deli.
Two weeks before the next day Dejesus received a postcard from his great uncle Theodore who lived in Ripe East Sussex and worked as a fixer for the Guernsey Cable Company. Before working for the Guernsey Cable Company, his great uncle Theodore worked for the Aktiengesellschaft Cable Company in Austria, and before that for the Nick Dye Cable Company in Stoke Mandeville Buckinghamshire. The postcard read, Dearest nephew, I am writing you this short missive from my post at the Guernsey Cable Company while I am momentarily on break, albeit a short miniscule break, as they frown upon long languishing breaks, sad bastards, anything beyond 10 minutes is considered middling, and as such too long, so you might well understand the brevity of this short missive. One fellow, a mister V. W. Beams, however, seems to be permitted longer breaks, in the neighborhood of 11 or 12 minutes, why, I am unsure, but I suspect he is a favorite of the shift-boss, or simply a very smart man. Mister Beams, who prefers to be addressed as V. W., thereby shortening the time it takes to address him, as the company demands the utmost attention from its peons, V. W. being one of many peons to which I speak, so you might well imagine the undue pressure I currently find myself under, sad as that may be. I fear I am quickly running out of writing space, so I will get to the gist of this short, albeit middling missive. Might I ask of you to inquire about a position with the Kipling Cable Company as a fixer first class, which I am to understand is situated not far, a stone’s throw, I believe, from where you currently call home? Dejesus read the postcard, curious as to the postmark on the topmost corner, then pitched it in with the other trash behind the Greek Deli.
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