Sunday, February 23, 2014

Another A-Level essay.

Right, duvet: off. My pillows, still with fresh drool: off. The other pillows, with a faint scent of her still on them: reluctantly off. The underlay, slightly creased on one side and definite signs of use on the other: off. I am going to let you in on a little secret: I have no idea what I am doing.

I collect the washables in the horrid yellow basket your mother bought us and I headed downstairs. I pass the sofa that presented your accursed treasure and enter the kitchen. This used to be your domain, you knew everything to do with everything in this room, but you never told me anything. I put the basket on the floor and start to shovel the washables into the washer. Now if only I knew which button made it go, I can  handle machines, you know I can handle machines, but this one has me stumped; all of the buttons and knobs each will present the washables in a different outcome. I fill it with powder, jab at a few of the buttons and its working, at least.

I collapse in my chair and am reunited with her once again. Her slender figure, her smooth, shiny skin and the way she always does what I want her to do. She is almost too loyal: never asking questions, never doubting my every move and always making that sweet purring sound. I can sit playing her for hours on end and with her there is no mother in law.

I’m sat shooting Nazis with my MP40 and recall that day. It was a Saturday afternoon, I was shooting some different Nazis then, or was I protecting summoners from fiends in Spira? Either way I was fixed on the game. You came in from shopping about half past four and said you felt like cleaning, what for I still don’t know. Anyway she started to clean with the vacuum and was standing in front of the TV, I shouted at her. She moved and with a flick of her hoover she had sucked up the plug from the wall and my gaming all day was in vein, I had not reached a save point. I shouted some more, she shouts back I go upstairs for a shower. Whilst upstairs I hear a scream. I come running downstairs to find her jumping up and down like a baboon. She turns around and shows me a piece of paper, which I don’t get time to read and she says she found in the sofa whilst cleaning, then starts jumping up and down again. Then she goes upstairs. Then it hit me. She was watching the lottery. She came downstairs with a suitcase packed, says she was leaving me and would be back for her stuff at a later date and leaves me, alone.

It was Monday when she came round demanding her stuff. So I try the whole “baby, don’t leave me, what did I do?” big mistake. She goes off on this huge rant about how ever since I bought my sweet games console all I ever do is play it and there is no time for her. Then there was a bit of crying, bits of things that I had done wrong which I couldn't understand due to the tears but I caught the odd word and insult to get basically what she was saying. She then said that she had won 5.6 million pounds and wouldn't be needing me so was living at Debby’s, who Debby was at this point I had no idea who Debby was. Then she got one of her bags, which my offer to carry was refused, and went. I wondered about carrying one of the other bags she had made of all her things, but thought better of it. Then she returned but this time she had brought a friend, whom I assume was Debby. Well again between you and me Debby had the world's greatest backside ever, although I think they noticed that I had noticed so I tried to busy myself in the kitchen with a cup of tea, fortunately I can use the kettle. I watched my newly ex and Debby or “The Bum” as she was referred to in my head, carry all 15 bags of what I would have labeled “crap” out of my flat. She came back up, gave one last look at me and gave me my key and the finger, what a charming person.

God only knows where she lives now, and frankly I couldn't care less. I have my console and that’s all I need. Now if you’ll excuse me I am about to start my new demonic powers and guns game.