Fuktory

I look at people’s photos on Facebook and

I look at people’s photos on Facebook and I am sure I can smell sweaty genitalia.

I read people’s status updates on Facebook and I am sure they are lying.

I check people’s comments on Facebook and I feel like killing them.

I follow people’s post on Facebook and I feel sorry for them.

 

I read what I wrote here and I want to kill myself.

I will post this on Facebook.

 

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THIS IS FUKTORY

THIS IS FUKTORY

THIS IS FUKTORY

Stating the obvious #1

Things and our perception of things may be two entirely different things.

 

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THIS IS FUKTORY

THIS IS FUKTORY

THIS IS FUKTORY

Babies vs. Cat poo

Jack, who is nine months old, is playing with his yellow teether; a plastic duck-shaped instrument that mercifully scratches his constantly itching gums. Soon comes Danny from around the corner – Danny is seven months old and has just discovered crawling. So, that’s all he does. The two boys have been friends for ever; they live in adjacent apartments anyway.

Danny halts as he reaches Jack; it wasn’t easy stopping, it never is, but he’s getting better. The two men stared at each other for a while, until Danny, drooled first.

“‘Sup?” said Jack.

“Not much, ‘sup with you?” said Danny.

“When I say ‘sup you answer in details newbie, you hear me?” said Jack obviously upset. He wasn’t his usual self ever since this teething ordeal has started. “Stupid newbies…”

“Hey man, I thought we were friends, man” complained Danny.

“Stop calling me man, dude.”

“Stop calling me dude, man.”

“You wanna fight? Is that what you wanna do? You wanna fight? ‘Cause if you wanna fight, I’ll give you a fight, you hear me? I’ll give you a fucking fight till you spit your momma’s milk out your imperforate anus, you hear me little bitch?”

“My anus is perfectly patent, thank you very much. And fuck you – yes I wanna fight.”

“Fine!”

Then Danny ate a cookie that he found in the corner right next to Jack; it had been there for a few days and no one picked it up. Tasted funny, nothing like he’d ever tasted before. Took him a while to figure it out; not until he realized Jack had turned blue with laughter.

“Why are you laughing you son of a bitch?”

“You ate cat poo dude. Cat poo…”, said Jack and kept laughing.

“Oh fuck -“

Danny’s mother rushed onto him, picked him up and stuck her long-nailed finger in his mouth. That wasn’t pleasant. She took half of the cat poo out, but the rest got smashed in his mouth, releasing a disgusting odor of cat litter. He tried to scream, but couldn’t really. He was in shock, so all he did was cry really loud. His mother, cursing loudly at her friend left the house, while Jack’s mother was forwarding the curses to her husband over the phone. It was somehow his fault.

Jack crawled elegantly to his park, went in, and induced vomiting just in case.

Feels like my baby in the next room is all alone in the house.

Everyone Happy

I woke up in silence.

I picked myself out of bed and brushed my teeth. The Sun was up already and the sea was calm, a beautiful sight. Made myself some coffee, chewed on my nicotine gum and waited out the craving. Put on pants and shoes, a t-shirt with a skeleton stamp, and took off for the market.

My street is made of slippery stones so I take the narrow sidewalk down to the  fruit-market. Bought strawberries and bananas, some vegetables and potatoes. Onions too. The strawberries looked particularly good. Sellers were calling us to buy their stuff, and they looked happy. There were three young men dressed in black, baring an ancient symbol on their identical t-shirts fooling around at a corner. One of them was telling a joke, the others were laughing their hearts out. The cabbages were not that good, so I didn’t get any.

I brought everything back home and got in my car to drive to the super market. My favorite song played on the radio right before the news about a bombing at the other end of the world. Some three people were killed, some kid amongst them, over a hundred were injured. Some new cell phone will change everyone’s life for ever. Some leader far far away threatened the globe with annihilation, and some new theatrical play goes on stage tonight; only eleven euros for a ticket. They advertised some anti-wrinkling cream. Then there was static – no signal in the underground parking.

There were a lot of new offers and discounts at the super market and a calming background music. I am not so much into that music. Bought the necessary and paid what seemed to me to be a lot. The cashier was talking about how many miles she ran on the mill while putting my staff in plastic bags. No one had claimed responsibility for the bombing yet, the other cashier mentioned. An old lady thought she talked to her and said what; the cashier said never mind.

I carried everything to the car, and it wasn’t easy because of all the cleaning products and detergents that come in ton-bottles. I recycle the plastic bottles and glass bottles too. Some say they all go to the same trash pile, but it’s not much to throw them in the blue bin, so I do it, and I stop thinking about where they go. I’m happy with what I do, my part that is; I play my part efficiently, so I am happy.

And I am always on time – if you want to hire me for anything, I am always on time, and available now.

I returned home and baked a pie while listening to the news and looking at the sea out my window. I am fortunate like that. Some politician formed a new party and is trying to explain why. It’s not easy on him I guess.

There was a man pushing a cart full of metal parts, heavy, heavier than the man himself, and he was pushing it up my street of slippery stones, against gravity. All the way against gravity, and he was whistling in his foreign whistle. The three young men in black approached him, I guess, and maybe asked him something. The weather is going to be good for the rest of the day, with a slight chance of rain, but the temperature will drop a couple of degrees towards the end of the week. It’s fine, I had no plans to go out. The three young men started pushing the thin man around, and they scattered the large metal parts on my street of slippery stones, and the thin man ran away and disappeared. The young men kicked around the metal parts and left too. Not many people were on their balconies watching, and they said hi to each other, and went back in, to take their pies out of the oven.

No one likes a burnt pie.

I have a new oven which bakes pies in half the time, so I need to be very careful not to burn my pies. It took twenty minutes – record time. There was a financial analyst on the radio, talking about the necessary changes in order for the crisis to end, but most of us know it’ll take a war. Pies are not abundant during a war, and people need them to keep smiling, so we accumulate fat in order to sleep through the winter that is coming upon us. The thin man returned and picked up the large metal parts – I could finally see it was a broken refrigerator. Or something. The analyst said that the global economy is a figment of our imagination, a study on social relations, an experiment that has lasted way too long and we need to pull the plug before the lab gets burnt to the ground. The reporter was impressed by the president’s stand and performance in the face of the bombing. She said it four times, in different words. Smart lady.

The thin man was gone in a few minutes. I had hung some clothes last night, and they must have been dry, but it started raining. It wasn’t bad at first, but it got real bad real quick. Thunders and lightning filled the horizon and the sea turned white with waves. The Sun disappeared, and rivers of water came down my slippery stone street, carrying plastic bags, cell phones, trash of all sort, some cigarette buds, a lipstick, some bananas, a refrigerator, three young men, strawberries, a pie, two cashiers, four of my neighbors, cars and bicycles, an analyst, the thin man, a reporter, the president, three dead bodies and over a hundred amputated children, my car, the clothes I had hung the previous night, and it was getting bigger, and darker, the river that is, it was rushing towards the sea, and then it brought entire houses with it, that squeezed between my building and the one across, and hundreds of thousands of pies, and money, so much money I have never seen, and banks, and terrorists, and anarchists, and communists, and racists, and politicians who formed new parties, and more reporters, and more people, and more money, and more cell phones, until everything was brought into the sea, to sink, and never to come back.

I woke up in silence.

Imaginary single-sided dialogue

I’m sorry I didn’t catch your Name. Oh, great. I’m – well, I’m the guy on the picture. Great. And what is that you do? Oh I see. Something between an artist and a journalist, but neither. Oh, no no, it doesn’t bother me at all. As long as you are not an entrepreneur, I’m fine with most professions. Ha ha ha… But what is a politician if not an entrepreneur? Yes, even the prime-minister must have been one at some point in his life.

 

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THIS IS FUKTORY

THIS IS FUKTORY

THIS IS FUKTORY

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