Another flipping conversation…

Our common cause was that

we both knew something essential

to the task’s completion but

which we hoarded as if

sharing was toxic to our

well-being and state of mind.

But now we both understand

that withholding was always the

problem and which prevented us

succeeding instead of languishing here

now in this state of

agitated irritation, like an itch

you want to kill but can’t

cos it’ll kill you. Oh,

this is almost delicious, this

twisting deviousness created from our

opposition to cooperation, an elongated

word meant to cause apoplexy

for simple minded twerps like

you and me. And for

what? A chance of glory?

A notoriety or fame? Where’s

the reward in that? It’s

enough to make you want

to, I don’t know, cry?

Or cringe, whichever seems handiest

and closest to the tissue

box. Here, hand it to me

please: I feel a sniffle

coming on. Almost like a

bellyache but without the belly.

You find this amusing perhaps?

By all means, laugh away.

There’s no more reward for

sneering at me with humour

than me ignoring you for

your simple-minded attitude that

isn’t helping our cause right

now. But, hey, just go

ahead, I’m done here anyway.

I want my ticket out

of here. That’s right, you

heard me. I want out!

Now!. Oh for heaven’s sake,

what are you? Deaf or

what. Open the drawer and

hand me my ticket that

I know you’ve got stored

away there. There! Yes,  that

one. Now hand it to me.

No, not like you don’t

care cos I know you were

all over me moments ago

when we were as thick

as thieves in our quest.

What now. Don’t do that!

Okay. Just stop it now.

People are looking at us

funny-like. Look, there’s

some geezer looking at me.

I don’t like it. No, he’s

still watching me. Now, he’s

coming over. Stop it! He’s…

It’s okay. He was wall-eyed.

How was I to know.

Now, hand me my ticket

so I can go my

way, something we both know

was inevitable. It’s a

pity that it took this

unexpected disaster to serve us

right. Thank you. Now, if

you don’t mind, I have

to go. No, I won’t

be back. Why should I?


© 2017 L. Tafa




Author: b20f08

I enjoy solo wargaming and writing. The first caters to the boy that never grew up; the latter satisfies a deep desire to communicate. Cheers.

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