Just another Status Symbol

mariano-nocetti-716793-unsplashDora hadn’t a clue that her smile was something to be ashamed of. She was in her mother’s car praying it wouldn’t crash as mum was closing some business deals over the phone.

The twelve-year-old was used to watching her being served as some sort of superstar again. It was the orthodontics surgery, and the kids in the waiting room looked as if they were on their way to be slaughtered with no mercy.

“it’s like getting some fashionable jewellery” said mum, in the usual voice she used when lying.

The specialist’s assistant used the words “brave” and “cool” to address Dora as she poked her gums clumsily with some sort of Middle Ages torturing instruments.

Dora thought to herself that all the genuine smiles she had been sharing with other kids, spreading love and connection, was actually a genetic default.

Mum had taken a check book and paid in advance. Dora didn’t get an option.

Like a broken AI that had been causing grief, Dora bared the filth of having four stinky hands – with no gloves- in her tiny mouth at the same time.

 

Not to mention the hygiene conditions. Bracket pieces were pulled out of a box, shoved into her mouth and then back in the box again, over and over again. Of course, her darling mum hadn’t been allowed into the surgery.

 

Dora overheard the orthodontist saying “this procedure will grant your child a lifetime of success opportunities- Dora’s lucky, only the privileged can afford this. The job will be done in eighteen months. Come back every 4 weeks for adjustment. And I will need to remove 4 teeth to make some space, but we’ll talk about that later.”

Once the session was over, mum said “You look so glamorous” and drove Dora around every friend’s home, showing her new teeth the way an old seller would bargain for a horse. She exaggerated the fee she spent threefold to each and every one of them.

One kid looked at Dora with pity and said “My ma would never do that to me.”

Is it right to teach a kid that beauty – if Colgate teeth can be named Beauty- counts more than dental hygiene? Because the bacteria collected during 18 months is enough to kill all the sharks in the London Aquarium.

Not surprisingly mum didn’t keep the adjustment appointments as she was busy “working” and cavities soon began to appear from South to North.

 

When Dora had had enough and was seeing that the result on her smile was “uglier” than it looked at starting point, she resorted to her granny to take her to have them removed. Her mother didn’t even notice the difference: she had completely forgotten about them all.

Dora had also missed a climax moment to get her first kiss.

After the disaster, it took the youngster 8 long years to learn how to smile again without covering her mouth with her right hand.

It seems like we are forgetting- in the human world, difference is so charming.

 

The End.

 

More humour here.

Dream Hard, Dream Real

tot-416967-unsplash-There you are, Candy! I rushed down here like a Bee. Actually managed to sneak out from the meeting by faking a resignation again. So this better be a real Emergency.

-They can’t roll the numbers without you, Amelia, you know you’ll never lose this job.

-Thanks. Arghhh. You’ve kept me flying since we were teenagers. My success is our success. Now! Straight to the point. What’s up? Why the braids and blue lipstick?

-I need a thousand for a lawyer.

-No problem. But I’m slightly curious. Are you in trouble?

Amelia noticed her best friend had tiger-like scratches on her arms.

-To make it short, Candy whispered, five months ago I went to the Natural History Museum.

-Oh, no. You’re pregnant?

All the customers sat at Starbucks turned their heads around.

-It’s worse than that. I needed the toilet but I saw a naughty spider in there. i didn’t want the spider to see me naked, so I went into a corridor and I pushed a “NO ENTRY” door, hoping there would be a staff clean toilet in there.

There was a door that looked like one and so I pushed it. You wouldn’t believe it. It was the archeological workshop! No-one was in. Only bones and fossils and microscopes. It was like travelling back billions of planet earth years.

-I see.

-This small little bone… I mean, it was so cute! I couldn’t resist. I slipped it into my corset. Then I just walked out.

-You got caught?

-I WISH!

-So what happened?

Candy started looking around wearily in case there were any undercovers about.

-I took the bone home and placed it under my pillow just as it said on that Wicca website.

Then I dreamed I worked for this really cool Advertising Company.

-Go on, time’s running up.

-On the next day I cleaned it with that Japanese Energy drink they sell behind the counter. Big mistake. Weird things started to happen.

-So you’re not pregnant?

-No. The bone must have actually been an Egg. A Dinosaur Egg. It’s growing. It’s a she. I named her Polly.

-Heavenly! Shall we take it to the Zoo?

The barista at Starbucks had already lowered the music volume and customers were pretending not to listen to the girl. What a nice vibe there was in there.

-If only it could talk! The thing is, I taught her how to use my tablet, she learned very fast, and then started ordering Hollister pants that don’t even fit her! With MY credit card.

-But is Polly good to you?

-Oh yeah, she loves a tease. But I’m left with this new big lovely burden and I cannot live with or without her. I need to sue the National History Museum for letting pervert spiders in their ladies restrooms.

-Now don’t blame the cleaners! You stole the egg!

-I thought it was just a bone.

-Okay, the bone! Amelia shot a glance at her watch and then grabbed Candy strongly by the fists.

-Tell me Candy, are you taking your zombie pills?

-I can’t! Polly loves them and gobbles the whole box as soon as it’s delivered to me!

At this point fellow coffee-lovers couldn’t hold it any longer and exploded very loudly into laughter. Candy felt embarrassed and desperately lonely again.

As Amelia sighed and reached for the emergency medication sachet she kept in her bag, the gentleman two tables to the right jumped up and cried

-Wait a minute! Don’t take that! You’re perfect as you are, Candy. Here’s a check for you to pay your debts. I run the top Advertising Firm in the US and Britain, and we need someone like you to start the day inspiredly. You just need to give us a casual speech each morning at 8 AM sharp. Burnout is common in the creative industries but I know that an open mind like yours, innocent and imaginative will give us that boost to keep fighting a fierce competition.

I’ll give you 24 hours to think about it, Miss Candy. Meanwhile I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed for a Yes. What do you say?

-Well, thanks, it’s a great offer, but I need to discuss it with Polly tonight- see what she thinks about this.

 

The End.

More humour here!

The Wicked Bitch

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I am the Wicked Bitch

No- one saw me naked

Gucci shades

Fittest legs

Pick a cat-fight each Friday.

Again! I’m arrested and at the station

Cops whisper me their numbers under the table

Swap boyfriends with my mates every full moon

Neighbour’s cats wanna sleep in my living room.

Only my cool company is an Asset on Wall Street

My name is mentioned from West to East.

So don’t be fooled by my Angel Voice

Or my almond eyes- I’ll tell you why

Cos I was born on the Street to my mamma’s luck…

And my pappas pride.

Hang around with me and they’ll look you high

But you’ll regret it if you tell a lie.

Im the Wicked Bitch

Braid my hair

My phone’s going off!

Someone needs me there.

 

The End

More humour here.

 

New Fizzy Customer Services!

 

 

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Imagine a World with no customer services?

Or maybe something in between…. AIs serving our roast beefs at the Pub?

Yes we are all watching a decline in customer services’ personality and quality, as it was a skilled role taken for granted and too often unrecognised.

You could find the rudest, stinkiest pest throwing your coffee on your shirt in the exact same perimeter where the sweetest, most loving, funny girl was greeting another customer by his name.

As there still are some big companies who do value their stock, here’s  couple of tips I  have picked up during my career.

Instead of

“How can I help you?” just ask

“How can I make your day?”

Its fresher, more engaging and has a proven impact on sales and customer loyalty.

“How can I  help ” is patronising, implying our dear customers need some kind of help- while it is the Firm that needs their flow!

During the engagement, seek out to hear the customers’ stories, be genuinely interested and remember the face and story and product sold to this customer for the next time he stops by.

The customer must leave the premises/ phone/ email conversation with his spirits uplifted for the rest of the day. This is our job.

Finally, when then customer leaves, just say

“Thanks for visiting us!”

Because I am pretty sure we flesh and bone humans can outskill the AIs…

Have a great day and hope you get visited by the funniest customers!

Comments welcome.

More jokes here.

The Puppy in Pesos

A Sign.

Kamila’s latest Designer bag acquisition had made her trip that morning and spill the coffee on her report.

Tiffany’s had only hired her because the Shorthand skills made her shine amongst all the other glamour-seekers, and they had even sponsored an accent softening course- just to add another humiliating milestone onto her CV.

To mingle with the team, online shopping with seven credit cards, along with photoshopped fake holiday snaps and jewellery bought off special bonus vouchers, all kept the adrenaline pumping and the debt collectors “bomb-mail”- as she liked to call it- coming in.

A week before one hot debt collector, Mark Stronner- she later found out this wasn’t his real name- had given in to all of her whining, crying, and quoting her dead grandmother just to carry out his plan.

Now he was hot. He told her he put his job at risk just to not spring clean her cosy bungalow. Always on time, answering whattsapps and popping by the dry cleaners’ to collect her non-matching suits, her grandmother would have been proud of her.

And he didn’t want to get intimate yet, because he “respected her so much”. The stupid strawberry blonde.

He was giving her gold-value information to dodge the bailiffs and to make her hair thicker with Organix shampoo, and crushing ice on it before using the blow-dryer. He loved this crushing ice bit on her mid-length hair, and she felt like a real cave-woman while he smashed it. That’s all the bodily interaction they got- so far.

 

A blonde with a dream, and a lazy bum with an even bigger dream. It added up to an unbalanced deal. But who was going to win?

One night Kamila’s grandmother appeared in her dreams again. She was whipping Mark with a rod like in the old days, with all her might- and Mark was giggling “don’t tickle me, stop tickling me nan!”. A Whattsapp from him woke her up- he wanted to meet by the river, at a particular place where there’s was lots of controversial graffiti. It was a CCTV dead corner.

So she called in the call centre for her first sickie. Now. Yes. She was excited. He was there talking to a hoodie who didn’t even bother to scan her and left on his bike as soon as Mark made some sort of gang-like sign.

Mark was serious. He looked like he was resisting to kiss her. They sat on the steps after he checked no one was coming by. He didn’t ask her how she was- yet even noticed the new Coach bag she got. Nor a  neon blue new streak on her forehead that cost her seventy quid.

Straight to the point. The destination was Colombia. They were going to go on a guaqueros journey, i.e digging graves for a treasure. He didn’t ask for her approval. It came across to her as a honeymoon gift from him. He marked the date and both their initials on a wall. Wow. The fool. The strawberry fool.

 

*     *     *

The journey to Cali felt as quick as a flash as he had packed little more than her blow-dryer and a desert kit. As they got to the Airport, a ridiculous hat he forced her to buy and wear was enough for her to say “for my Grandmother’s breathe!” out loud and make him laugh in a way he hadn’t before.

As they finally found their contact in the suburbs of Juanchito, Kamila and Mark stroke a connection while she took pictures of him smoking nervously and not being able to decide weather to eat gum, smoke or bite his nails. The contact called her “Mami” and Mark knew this business was going to go well.

But as Mark met him again for dinner- this time without Kamila, who wanted to defrizz her hair from the plane- Mark was tempted by the sexiest, most charming and eloquent devil-who-would-deliver.

They were going to become  Drugs Mules.

“What about the grave-digging? No time for that. Next time. Not good time of the year.”

“But that’s not what Rhonnie said?”

“You shut up you’re in my territory- if you don’t want me to get your girl pregnant with el Chupacabras.”

When he got back to the Hotel, with no cigarettes left, he found Kamila checking through his passport.

“Where’s the cigarettes?”

“Whose cigarettes? Mark Stronner’s or Adam Moland’s?”

“Don’t try to be clever because I’ve grown fond of you now. Where’s my cigarettes?”

” Mark, I just want you to tell me it’s not something nasty you’ve done before changing your name”

“We’ll have time for that. Hey! Your hair looks great. Here they are, the cigarettes. Lets go get some pics done. It’s like a boxer’s sauna in here.” He kissed her on the forehead for the first time and took that ridiculous hat off her head.

“I’m gonna teach ya how to set boundaries, Mami. You’re grandmother aint here to watch over you anymore.”

*     *     *

As she tied her hair in a messy, prove-the-point bun and showed a feather-lighe interest towards his life story, Adam- not Mark-  made a full confession, which was nothing to be seen on crime watch. Just a kiddo wanting to be Pablo Escobar in Hackney then finding his own was to pay the bills.

He stopped and bought her an indigenous necklace.

“You look great to me like this. Post it in Instagram, see how many likes you get. You don’t need that Tiffany mechanic gear no more. Here, dare to ditch that gold in the sewer.”

 

She pretended she did but with a trick her grandmother taught her she sneaked the gold inside her shoe.

 

As they got to the Hotel, and the likes on Instagram were popping, they found the door open and a stuffed Chupacabras toy.

 

“Don’t ask questions, we’re catching to first plane to London tomorrow.”He said.

“How about the grave-digging?”

“You wouldn’t like someone digging into your nan’s grave in three hundred years’ time, would you?”

They went to sleep again with no body contact. Only in the morning, she found him with his arms curled around her when the smartphone melody started off.

 

*    *    *

The events at the airport were like falling off a rollercoaster and getting caught at the last minute by a drone. At customs, a massively wide female security officer asked whose the Chupacabras was. A new alter ego emerged from the glamour-ridden girl

“It’s my grandmother’s, Mami”.

The big woman asked whose the jewels were. She said

“It’s the Chupacabras”.

 

“Aqui Ustedes se separan” Meaning in Spanish they would be split there.

 

A Shar-Pei puppy sniffing Kamila’s terror in the cell became extremely friendly with her. All charges dropped. The security officer had asked the girl if she could have the teardrop opal earrings for her granddaughter.

She also said Mark had gone into a fit while begging the officers to let “his girl free” and that the officers made a jolly good thirty minutes’s fun while torturing his mind.

 

As they ran along the gates with the officers not to miss the plane, Mark (or Adam) couldn’t stop sobbing as Kamila was dragging him “Come on, you can run!”

 

It was the last minute and as a fact of destiny the star-pei puppy sneaked onto the plane. Nobody had noticed under all that confusion.

 

It was only when the plane was high up in the sky away from the sight of all the chupacabras that the puppy jumped onto the lucky couple’s lap and licked Mark’s tears off.

“It’s going to be a long journey, Mark.”

“Yes, and as soon as we get to London I wanna get rid of that chupacabras toy.”

“And I want to get of the blow-dryer”

“But not the puppy!” They both cried.

 

The End.

More humour here.

 

 

 

 

The Real Yo

geetanjal-khanna-81242-unsplashIt was only two weeks ago.

Shrek- the alias for this gangsta- was cursing his demons as his new BMW had been kept at the mechanic’s for another three days. Heat wave in London. Bus packed with stupid people wearing jackets in the city oasis. He wished he was the driver, sat comfortably at the wheel puffing the air conditioning. This lucky kid was going to drive all day, with no-one to disturb his blimin’ peace, and Shrek needed to get to Brixton Prison to visit that slave who messed up. Not to pay him his respects, but just to make sure he was going to keep his mouth shut.

On top of all, there was traffic, and a chubby fellow eating smelly curry.

How long until Brixton?!

The ganster was watching the traffic lights and trying to hypnotise them with rap rhymes in his head for them to turn green. “The Traffic light is giving way – I’m the Shrek and you all wait”.

Suddently the engines stopped and a young sophisticated woman broke the awkward silence.

“If you keep on staring at my toddler he won’t be able to direct the bottle to his mouth properly”.

The lady was bullying Nisha, a 24-year-old fallen star who was on a wheelchair after being given the wrong medicine in Bali, when on her Gap year. She had lost two limbs and was only surrounded by the very wrong people.

The fallen star, a mysterious dark self-controlled beauty about to explode like a mine, had abandoned her fate to Chaos’ will and only hoped her Aunt, a neurotic spinster who wanted to get credit for looking after her, would woman up and stop abusing her in public.

At this stranger’s provocation, Nisha casually said “If the bottle were filled with organic, non gluten, fair trade disgusting worms, the bloody baby would get a grip'”.

The grey Aunt stepped in “Sorry madame, but let me tell you my niece has lost it since she lost her legs, but she’s harmless, don’t worry.”

Shrek had witnessed the whole scene and his blood was pumping. Something ticked in his head. He efficiently pushed aside the old man standing on his way to the wheelchair and pram area, and took a deep breathe. Everybody was watching him.

“YOU!” he snapped. Nisha looked at him. A second and a half of eye-contact made Shrek’s unlawful life flash like a dart. She didn’t smile. Because her eyes were smiling. This was going to be the most important red carpet rolled ahead of her in her whole life.

“You two missis don’t speak to my friend no-more, and you posh lollipop fold your pram and remember to take the baby out first if you don’t want to breastfeed him with crack next time.”

People on the bus clapped around. The bus driver was watching on the CCTV and was too distracted to carry on at the green light. Cars were impatiently beeping.

 

Nisha still didn’t smile. Her eyes had the power. She had the power. Shrek was sure  a hot biscuit, and she wished she could take off his T-Shirt and see what was underneath.

 

“My name is Shrek, but you can call me Donnie, like no-one has called me since six years. Tell me now, where are you going? I’ll take you my Princess! We got all the time in the world! It’s a new beginning.

 

“Not so fast, Shrek” said Nisha. People on Bus 2 were laughing now, and he noticed a couple were recording the scene with their smartphones. “I wanna go to the Aquarium and feed this woman to the Sharks”. She pointed at her Aunt.

Shrek took a stash of cash from his pocket and handed it to the grey lady, who almost dripped saliva at the sight of it. “This is your late pay for looking after my Princess all this time. Now you go find me on Instagram, ShrekBiteTheAir and tell all her folks she’s not putting up with your crap anymore. And they better come visit everyday. Driver! To the Aquarium please!”

And as passengers cheered and some had tears in their eyes, the driver managed a C-turn, almost a U-turn to The Aquarium.

 

*     *     *

 

The night of the events was a guilty narration of Shrek and Nisha’s life, dotted with jokes among tears here and there. When Shrek told her he had been bullied and abused by his boxing trainer during the whole of his teens, and she refused to give him the pity look- the weight that flew off his shoulders came back to him like a dragon with wings, filling him with love, forgiveness, motivation, and a “I wanna to this thing and this thing and nobody ain’t stopping me now.”

“Do you wanna delete Alfred, Smurk, Hancuffer and Bigtits numbers before we get another Johnny Walker?”

“Yes my Princess, I’ll delete them even from my Soul but we ain’t getting any more Johnny Walkers. We got to get up early tomorrow cos it’s our new life. Early Bird Catch the Fish!”

 

“That’s right Donnie! Do I get a good night kiss?”

 

The End.

More humour here.

Thanks for sharing!

 

 

A Mouth To Feed

I love Children“. Here’s the childless and partnerless 30 year-old office professional trying to sound adorable and acceptable in her circle.

“What do you mean, you love All children?”

“Yes.”

Well, I reply No. Children, as innocent and defenceless as they are, should be taught to earn love and respect -and to find their individuality. You don’t just love them because they’re cute and do not pose a threat, or because they are the safest long term-investment you can make.

Most western children, in the brutest form of impulses-respondent homo sapiens, live in a world where adults submit to them in order to fulfil their broken longings for unconditional love and comfort. And this is what they’re learning. Affection traded in order to get their own way, or in the worse case a tantrum will do the job easily.

When you meet a child and your eyes instantly roll back into your skull in four-dimensional wonder, ecstasy and passion, just because of the child’s mere existence, then you are fooling the oblivious kid about the world he is going to encounter in the future, if he ever becomes a whole, healthy, respectable mouth that feeds itself.

 

The world is a fairly meritocratic place in most areas, but it can be a big bad place if you’re not vigilant. So children have to be taught to earn respect through paced effort following rules, self-control and resilience. Not because they’re cute- they’re all cute and there’s millions of them-.

 

There’s nothing wrong with not liking this one particular child. I don’t mean showing hostility towards it, but making it know why you don’t like him or her, and how he could gain your acceptance and respect. Lessons are best when learned as soon as possible.

 

It must be baffling for a kid to experience all the devoted love from adults, then a random range of different degrees of likes, dislikes and hates in the playground. They must be thinking “when I grow up everybody will love and respect me because they will all be adults by then”. Then their world crashes slowly.

 

The playground, where they are all somewhat equal in the hierarchy- teachers being bosses- is no longer there. They find a world of command and execution where the free lunch is no longer available.

 

Childhood in a civilised society is a place where energy and natural human aggressiveness must be channelled, if not mastered, for the greater wellness of the group. We teach them sports, games, crafts and knowledge. But what they can only see is the fittest kid in the playground terrorising the rest.

And the pupil who works the hardest- academically- is ridiculed, mocked and left aside.

It can take a hard hit for a child to realise that a little craftiness with cheating in exams or hacking exam questions can get him right to the doors of university which path has cost his parents seventeen years of doing a job they hated with people they loathed with a partner they couldn’t scent from a twelve-inch distance.

 

Going back to loving kids, kids must know why they are loved rather than how much they are loved. There’s something lovable in absolutely each individual, which makes the beauty of a diverse world, and if we don’t want a pot-smoking, swearing and disrespectful teenager, we should all start to be fair.

 

Roughly as fair as the world we live in.

Aliens

Just past midnight. I’venathan-anderson-292754-unsplash-3 been looking at those shiny gems out through the window, but not really looking. I was watching that nobody steals the Stars, moon, planes bats and drones from me.

When my eyes are almost shut, a bright Cyan light dances from above the local Church towards where I am. It feels very friendly, and there’s an appetizing feature within its strange and smooth colour.

Aliens.

[sociallocker][/sociallocker]

[sociallocker]

In a split second I  am grooming to suit my grandmother’ s cabaret attire- heels and all. I’m not gonna miss them.

The greenish light must now be over the roof because I can hear a very strange noise, like an AI Owl.

Getting the iced cherry cake out from the fridge- the very same cherry cake that makes all my friends have a go at me- I look around the flat to see if it’s presentable to receive my guests. It’s fine.

A silence makes my body feels unusually heavy, but yet I make my way up the forbidden stairs to the roof. I’m the lucky One. The cherry cake falls flat to the floor and the hall way is lit with light. A light I can almost taste.

I rush clumsily to the roof fearing that they have left. There was something I needed to tell them! Something I can’t tell anyone!

The aircraft shrinks fast into the distance as I fall to my knees. I wake up to reality again as I do every single morning. After clearing the cherry cake mess, I think to myself

” maybe this cherry cake wasn’t my best.”

But… oh my God. The flat has had a luxury makeover and everywhere I look there’s something new.

Like I am in a new department store, my eyes are exploring at sixty moves per second.  My old derelict flat is no more.

Have I gone into some neighbour’s flat?

No. Through a new kind of silverish window with exaggerateratedly long  red curtains runs a shy beam of light, yet cheeky enough to make the new carpet twirl.

The old furniture has been repaired and revamped and even rearranged around the room.

What are these photographs on the wall? Aliens eating cherry cake and smashing it over each ohers faces!

The same surprises pop up everywhere as I inspect every room in the flat.

My cherry cake recipe has disappeared from the fridge door!

Now I am angry for 3 seconds, but soon I realise I have been baking this cake for twenty- six years so it has become second nature.

I need to try the new futuristic bed, but I want to discover more alien presents about. So I slip into the bed.

Something hard tricks my ear.

It’ s a card. Hey! That’s me in the picture, but 20 years older…. and ten times more attractive!

It reads

“Dana Meadow. Secret Keeper. Based on Planet Kaos. ”

The End

[/sociallocker]

 

More humour here.

Thanks for sharing!

Magic Tomatoes

henk-van-der-steege-508000-unsplash

Abi was about to become the last person in Pimlico Village, London, to give up on Fix.

Yes, he was the local grocer who sold him forty small plastic bags everyday for Fix to stuff weed in, the very despicable mature man who felt that any minute Allah was to punish him with lightening for exchanging his pound coins for notes- just for the buzz he felt when being called ” boss” every night.

That very morning Abi had done his morning prayer in the same stolen t-shirt bought off from Fix, this notorious fifteen year old who had even made his mother ill.

A new stock of cherry tomatoes was dumped by the delivery man.

” These are the smaller version of myself!” said Lesly Windrum, the enlightened old schizophrenic from the third floor upstairs.

Hearing this, Abi dropped the customer’s change all over, and the lights flickered again. The electrician was four hours late already.

This was a message from Allah. So he viciously hid the tomato case behind the counter. Then he looked at his watch. It was a Hugo Boss that Fix had sold to him- and it hurt Ali’s eyes.

It was going to be a long day til Fix turned up at his shop, whispering “hello, Boss. Anything for me?”

But as Destiny has it’s own funny way of synchronizing, Fix turned up at 4 PM. He needed baby milk again for his secret son or Suzy, the betrayed mother, would give his name to the Doctor and reveal his fatherhood.

Fix had that smile on him, this different kinda a smile he only put on when he needed something off credit.

” ok I’ll give you your milk boy. Stay here, I have got something for you.”

“Thanks, said Fix. You’re a sick devil. And I’m not a boy.”

All customers were served quickly but roughly. Abi put finger on his lips as if he were about to pass on  a deadly secret:

 

” I got new stock today. “Magic Tomatoes”. They’re grown at the feet of an old volcano that has just erupted. See. You take one. It’s like gas pumping you up.”

“What?”[sociallocker][/sociallocker]

 

[sociallocker]

” Yes. You take it, you become superman. You clean the house. After you clean the house, makes you wanna write. You take paper and you write down your future.”

“Um. That’ s cool.”

” Wait I’m not finished. After you design your future plan, your heart is filled with soapy love. You love everybody again and makes you go apologise. Makes you in peace with everyone.”

“Weird.”

“You’ll never feel like this before. But you can only take one a day. Twenty quid for you.”

“Shut up and gimme some of that shit. I’ll pay you as usual.”

“No. I want the money now. This is special shit”

“What’ the matter with you today?”

” Okay. I’l give you Suzy’s  milk and the magic tomatoes, and you pay me next week in clean money. I don’ wanna have no blood on my hands.”

“Please. Give me that shit!”

Abi  said the shortest prayer he knew and popped the cherry tomato into his mouth. He was thanked with a gangster’s  twist of the eyebrow.

The electrician came in. Abi pointed out

“Not now, you’re late, got to do my prayer now.”

” I can wait.”

*   *   *

The week was this time different and unexpected; Fix was coming around everyday at a different time for his magic tomato, to not be spotted by the dealers.

Talks in the neighbourhood spoke about the young lad having started window cleaning with his elder brother, having also gotten back together with Suzy and even being seen pushing the pram in the park.

He wasn’t getting anymore plastic bags. The nasties appeared nervous while looking for him.

” You got his new number?”

As Abi was very concerned about the outcome of his trick, Fix’s father walked in on Sunday looking serious.

“I’ve got a good spanking to give you Abi. ”

Electricity through the grocer’s  body rushed. Oh, no. Had his mission failed? Had he done something terribly wrong?

Not so. The wounded father trembled and threw himself into Abi’s arms, sobbing

“My child, my man, you gave me my child back. This is for You, my dad’s Army Veteran Watch. Put it on. Take it. My wife is getting better and has asked me to bring some vegetables home from here. Magic vegetables, ha, ha, ha! You are a snake-charmer!

” and the baby is getting christened next month, we’re grandparents now!”

Abi  looked as his watch, at his tomatoes, at the plastic little bags and the lights flickered again.

A couple of dealers from Fox’s previous gang came in and looked down as they met Fox’s father’s eyes. After hesitating, one said

“Can we have three of your magic tomatoes please boss?”

 

The End

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More Humour here.

 

 

Money’s Destiny

 

 

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A twenty-pound note and an American Express card are getting all philosophical while left over the night table.

– “You are really lucky, says the note to the card. You’ve got a nice life. You get to see great new places and you’re value is unlimited. I’m just caught inside the human mainstream of Need vs. Temptation.

– I’m not sure I get what you mean, Blue Queen…

-Well, put it this way. I go round in circles.  I pay a KFC dinner, then am used to buy pesticides with, stuffed in the pockets of Dictators, then thrown onto a casino table where they swear at me and all of my sisters, and before I realise it I’m back in a KFC till.

– That’s not so bad.

Only when I get the chance to be used to purchase perfume or a cartoon film it might get slightly exciting, but other than that I don’t even get to see any daylight, find a boyfriend coin, and everything they use me for is outraging.

” If only they could finance a rocket with my help and discover alien life or some’ink, I’d get a great buzzy feeling…

– Come on, stop whining! Look at myself. I’m owned by an egocentric, impotent, boring businessman who only needs me to show off around. He even lets the edge of me show out a little to proove a point in front of the ladies.

” I can’t stand the idiot. Sometimes I block my own function for a few seconds just to embarrass him. He’s a waste of drinking water. You see, so what if I am loaded, I’m just used for petty purposes and it brakes my heart.

“I often dream that a cool gangster comes and steals me off this jerk and then I get my last few hours of hilarious Jokes cracking with the bad guys- who are actually way more noble in heart than this jerk who carries me on him like a war trophy.

– I see. Maybe you’re right! But give us some advice, Gold Prince- what can I do to change my miserable routine?

– Easy! Just let yourself drop on the floor somewhere busy and cosmopolitan. You will be frightened at first, but it could change your Destiny. Then we will not be having these chats anymore. You might be picked up by a groovy mechanic who plays reggae and flies to the Caribbean, then tip a happy mother of twelve, Blue Queen.

“But the important bit lies here- before you let yourself drop into the unknown, take a look back and make a lasting picture of all the happy memories you’ve had- you certainly should have many- and not be scared.

– Yeah! I’ll do that!

– But wait. Look at the jerk. He’s snoring with his Armani spectacles on. Now that cryptocurrency has emerged and we are thus endangered species, bear in mind that you have a chance of a very prolonged life in the distant future within collector’s treasuries or in a museum, so give it a chance and bet on survival.

-Yes you’re saying all this, so why don’t you just let yourself drop out of his wallet next chance you get?

– Well. That’s because of my nature. I got comfortable with Hating someone to the gut all the time, so I am staying here til the day I expire….”

The End

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